Page 54 of His Beauty
Such a blow hurt.
He should know.
It was Keith’s pitying wince which made Lyon realize what he’d said, and he blew out a breath as he stared down at the water. “I remember it well,” he whispered.
“I do as well,” Keith reminded him. “I was there when ye woke up. I was the one who told ye about…”
“About Rose, aye.” Lyon held his brother’s stare. “I’ve never thanked ye for that. For staying with me.”
“And ye’ll never have to.”
The answer was immediate, certain, and Lyon appreciated it. He nodded gratefully.
Keith took a deep breath. “I remember thinking I’d do anything I could to alleviate yer pain, but there was nothing. Drugs for yer physical pain, aye, but the pain in yer heart…?” He shook his head. “I watched ye struggle with the knowledge Rose was gone, and I watched it slowly eat away at ye, until ye had this backward notion it was somehowyerfault?—”
Holding up a hand to interrupt him, Lyon shook his head. “Bonnie has, at long last I believe, gotten it through my head Rose’s choice wasnae my fault.”
The younger man’s eyes went wide, and he slumped back against the chair. “Well, bless me,finally. Was this when ye realized ye loved her?”
Lyon’s lips twitched at the not-so-subtle hint. “Nay, it took her running into a burning building for me to figure that one out. But it was when she told me she lovedme.”
Nodding, as if he’d always known this truth, Keith’s familiar lopsided smile pulled up one side of his lips. “So the woman ye love is in pain, and ye came down here to drink away the fact ye cannae help her?”
“Something like that,” muttered Lyon, lifting the water to his lips once more.
His brother was silent for a long moment, studying him. Finally, he pushed himself upright and took a deep breath.
“Lyon, have I ever told ye about the last time I got drunk?”
Frowning, Lyon considered it. Now he thought of it, Keith drank as infrequently as he did, preferring to keep his body as pure as possible as they pushed themselves to extremes.
“Nay, I dinnae think so.”
“It was the day I told ye about Rose.” Keith nodded when Lyon’s brow rose questioningly. “We—me, the doctors, everyone—we kenned ye were out of danger and were improving. We thought it was time for ye to ken the truth of her death, so we started to decrease the amount of laudanum ye took until ye were coherent for longer amounts of time each day.”
His brother took another deep breath and stared down at his hands.
“When I told ye Rose was dead and long buried, there was suchpainin yer eyes, in yer voice, that I kenned I’d do anything to take it away. Only…” He shook his head and met Lyon’s gaze. “I couldnae. She was gone, and nothing I could do would bring her back. So I came down here, and I finished one of yer bottles of whiskey.”
“Did it help?” Lyon asked quietly.
“I puked my guts out and stayed abed for two days.” Keith’s lips twitched. “Sonay, it didnae help.”
Scowling, Lyon gulped at the cool water. “Ye’re saying I shouldnae have poured myself that brandy?”
“I’m saying the situations arenae completely similar.”
Lyon finished the water and carefully placed the water glass beside the spilled brandy. “Speak some sense, before my head starts to ache too much to understand.”
“I would’ve done anything to help ye, but there was nothing I could do. Is that how ye feel about Bonnie’s pain? She’s lost her dream, and ye said that’s what’s caused her sorrow?”
Slowly, Lyon nodded. “Aye,” he drawled, considering the words. “And I suppose thatiswhy I poured that drink. Because I couldnae take away her pain. Her dream literally burned around her.”
“Her dream was owning a publishing house, Lyon. No’ necessarilythatpublishing house.”
“What are ye saying?” Lyon growled.
Keith’s freckled cheeks pushed upward as his smile bloomed. “I’m saying, Lyon, that ye live in a great bloodycastle. With a huge, unused open space downstairs, just waiting to be filled.”
