This is my entry for the Forbidden Love Blog Hop held on the beautiful Ruth Long's blog.
Should you wish to enter (and you should), the details of the contest are here.
Sebastian touched the tender back of his head and swallowed prayers as his fingers found the swell of flesh-embedded shrapnel.
He’d been branded the lucky one; the only of his friends to survive Waterloo.
But Marcus had been so close. He’d almost come back with him. He’d held the pain, each excruciating second that promised return, but breath had fallen and under a sky of gunfire, he'd entrusted Sebastian with his sister’s safety.
The sister, Sara, walked towards him dressed for the evening ball, her gown embracing her kindly. He turned at the sight.
Soon she’d walk down a different path, white over skin and smile on her face as she pledged herself to another.
And if he still was, he’d give her away.
Hand all which he coveted to another.
That the rakehell had fallen in love when his time was knelling to a close.
“Sebastian, why don’t you marry me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It isn’t ridiculous.” The distance shrank between them. “I need a husband and you need a wife. Marry me, Sebastian.”
His hand curled in a fist. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Yes. I love you,” she said softly.
Heaven help him.
Her hands sat on his shoulders and he stilled, his mind flickering warnings, his blood burning veins.
She leaned in, and to kiss her was a dream unlike others. Pure, chaste Sara in his arms could absolve the sins he had lived. She poured light over his soul and struck hope in his barren heart.
But she deserved more than his truncated life.
“No!” he tore out, pushing her back.
“Sebastian?” her voice broke in question.
“Leave, Sara. Now!” he thundered.
Her lips settled, disheartened. “I thought you loved me too.”
Sebastian quelled the urge to confess. “Well, you were wrong.”