Chapter 15

Dominic hummed softly to himself as he climbed the stairs two a time. He hadn't envisioned the night going so far with Marie, but he was glad that it had. The sweet scent of vanilla on his shirt brought a smile to his face as he reached the gallery. He was about to turn down the corridor that led to his room when his grandmother stopped him in his tracks.

"You're home late," she called to him from the doorway of her bedroom.

Heaving a sigh after nearly escaping, he turned to greet her with a forced smile. "Good evening, Grandmamma. I didn't think you would be awake at this hour."

"Nor did I think that you would be sneaking in at this hour." She narrowed her eyes at him and leaned heavily on her cane. Her silk robe and curls that had been set beneath a head scarf indicated to him that she had been in the process of turning in.

"I am a grown man and a duke; I didn't think I needed to report back to my grandmother." He stood his ground despite withering beneath her stare. The woman possessed the annoying ability to stare a hole into a brick wall if she found herself in the right mood.

"Watch your cheek. You seem to have been robbed of your coat, and may I ask what happened to your arm?" She placed both hands on the top of the cane and wrapped it sharply in the carpet at her feet.

Dominic shook his head and relented after realizing that he wouldn't escape without a fight. "If you must know, I was with Marie Webster. There was a small altercation outside her shop, but we got away unscathed, and this is just a flesh wound. My coat was ruined, but it's merely a matter of having another one made."

His grandmother seemed taken aback by his statement as her mouth tilted down into an expression of intrigue. "Have you found a match that is agreeable to you?" She seemed to ignore everything else he had said.

"As a matter of fact, I have, and I have asked her to marry me. Marie Webster will become my wife." He delivered the news swiftly, not knowing how his grandmother would react. Her departure from participating in all the social norms was little indication of how she would react to the news. Having a granddaughter-in-law who wasn't part of the nobility would affect the family's reputation for a short while at least.

Elizabeth Harding's mouth fell open before she tilted her head to the side with an expression of shock. "Do you mean to say that you have asked the matchmaker to be your wife?"

"I have." He let out a tired sigh, admiring her ability to skim over everything else he had said and hone in on the matter that intrigued her the most.

Tilting her head back, his grandmother began to laugh, letting out a cackle that filled the air with mirth as she tapped her cane repeatedly against the carpet. "This is wonderful news!" She finally managed to stop laughing as she shook her head.

"Why are you laughing?" A deep frown creased his brow as he felt his irritation rising. Out of all the reactions he could have envisioned, he hadn't expected his grandmother to laugh.

"Never mind me, I'm just a silly old woman. Now tell me, when are you getting married? I want to see some grandchildren before I leave this earth. There is a way of rebellion that I need to instill in them before the ton corrupts their minds." She took a deep breath that seemed to bring her a great deal of satisfaction.

His jaw clenched unintentionally as his muscles stiffened. "My stance on having children hasn't changed. I will marry Marie Webster, but I will not sire an heir."

Elizabeth's face changed to one of pity. "Dom, you know what happened to your parents is unlikely to happen to you." Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh.

"I may not perish in a freak accident, but I refuse to bring children into this world with even the slightest possibility of having their hearts broken," he snapped at her unintentionally as he took a step forward and gestured with his finger thrust in the air as he put his foot down.

His grandmother stood in her doorway without flinching, her expression of pity unchanged by his outburst. "I will forgive you for this little outburst, Dominic. I know how much you still struggle with the death of your parents. I will ask you one thing before I let the matter rest. Does Miss Webster know that you never wish to sire an heir?"

His anger faded as he lowered his hand and stared into the eyes of the woman who had raised him. "That is a matter that shouldn't concern anyone else," he answered vaguely, feeling the sting of realization at the back of his mind.

Does she want to have children?

He hadn't considered the fact up until now. One of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place was the fact that she hadn't wanted marriage to begin with. Yet he found himself wondering now if her unwillingness to be married extended to having children.

"I see," Elizabeth answered quietly with a nod. "The only advice I can give you as your grandmother is to sort the matter out before too long. A matter like this could prove to be the end of something good. I will support your decision to marry the matchmaker however I cannot help you if you choose to be silent and bungle things up."

Her words hit home as lightning struck the ground somewhere in the distance. His body went rigid as the sound cracked through the sky.

"There is a nasty storm brewing out there. I know you are not a child, but you know where to find me if you need me." Elizabeth gave him another sad look before pursing her lips and retreating to her room.

I can do this on my own.

Dominic braced himself as a second flash of light lit up the sky. Hurrying to his room, he quickly shut the door behind his back and leaned against the wood as sweat began to bead his palms. He had never liked storms, especially since that fateful night. His heart pounded against the walls of his chest as he braced himself against the door.

It's just a storm.

It's just a storm.

Dominic's chubby little hands gripped the edge of the seat as the carriage warred against the storm that split the sky with blue light. The horses neighed every time a bolt of lightning kissed the earth, yet the creatures raced ahead, hell-bent on reaching shelter wherever that may have been.

"It's just a storm; there is nothing to fear." His mother placed her arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to her side. Her long blonde hair brushed his cheek as he settled into her embrace. The silk gown she had been wearing enveloped him in warmth as he gladly sidled closer.

"You're not scared, are you boy?" His father winked at him, smoothing his thick black hair to the side. The deep timbre of the older man's voice had always represented the standard of courage to him against the backdrop of his youth.

The sense of safety and comfort he felt inside the confines of that bustling carriage brought a smile to his lips. "No, Papa, I know that it's just a storm. It will pass soon enough; I just don't like the sickness inside my belly with all the bumps in the road." Dominic feigned a brave face as he tried to look strong for his father, yet he couldn't bring himself to move away from his mother's loving embrace.

His father nodded approvingly as he gripped the edge of his seat across from his son and wife. His dark brown eyes sparkled with pride as he let out a breath. He had endeavored to raise his son with a strong will that matched his own with every ounce of fearlessness. The Harding family along with his grandmother always stood tall in the face of ridicule and fear.

Leaning in closer when his father looked out of the window at a falling tree, his mother whispered in his ear so that only he would hear. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid once in a while. We all get scared from time to time; what matters most is that we don't allow those fears to take us captive. Own your fears so that they don't own you." She winked at him with her ice-blue eyes and brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers.

Her words brought a grateful smile to his lips as he rested his head against her chest. Iris Harding was a sweet woman without a nasty bone in her body.

Fat drops of rain beat against the carriage as they traveled on an unknown road. The driver had suggested an alternative route that he thought would cut their journey in half. Not knowing that a fierce storm was about to hit, his father had agreed to travel the unknown road instead of stopping over in a small town.

"Do you think we should be traveling in weather like this? Perhaps we should pull over and spend the night somewhere," Iris Harding suggested as she pulled her eight-year-old son closer to her side, making sure he stayed securely in his seat.

His father frowned and clenched his jaw as he looked out of the window again. Nothing of the landscape was visible as fierce winds battered the earth, whipping the trees and greenery about with little effort. "I don't know where we are, but I'm sure the driver will pull over if he sees a town."

"I hope he finds one soon." His mother scooted a little closer and placed her arm protectively over his chest.

The expression on his father's face when the world suddenly uprooted itself and turned upside down burned in the back of his mind as his mother's scream filled the air.

Warmth turned to cold. Bright light faded to black as his father looked scared for the first time in his life, and his gaping mouth formed a silent scream of terror.

Dominic sat up straight in his bed as fat drops of rain beat against his bedroom window. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, yet the sweat that had drenched his pillow let him know that it had been a while.

He hated storms more than anything else in life. That fateful night played on a loop in his mind, night after night and year after year. Storms made the memories worse, but they came in the dead of night even when the sky was clear. A great deal of his adolescent life had been spent trying to block those final moments from memory. He knew that they had died that night, but how he had escaped was something he had taught himself to forget.

All he knew beyond the fear in his father's eyes was the fact that he never wanted to sire an heir. The world was far too cruel of a place to raise innocent children.

Running his fingers through his hair, he looked around the semi-dark room and spotted the shirt he had been wearing with Marie. Swinging his legs from the bed, he pushed himself up and crossed to room before reaching for the shirt and bringing it to his face. The sweet scent of vanilla filled his lungs as he shut his eyes and pictured her smooth skin.

Whether or not she wanted to have children, Marie Webster was the shining bright star in the middle of a raging storm.