“But that wasn’t the case,” she said, voice rising in question as she likely remembered how tensions had run high between the Duchelini brothers throughout the games.
“No. It was just the opposite, so Father charged me to intervene and get him back on track,” he said, feeling removed from himself now, as if he were talking about a stranger instead of himself. “Julian was the reckless one without ties or obligations while I accepted my duty and became a champion skier and suitably married man with a day-to-day hand in the family business.”
And perhaps he would have remained content in that role if his marriage hadn’t crumbled in his hands.
“Did you resent your role?” she asked calmly reminding him of counselors he’d seen to no avail.
If she only knew the details, Luc thought sourly. But she couldn’t and it wasn’t a subject he wished to go into great detail.
“I did after my ex-wife died,” he admitted, hungry for the punishment a free, grueling lifestyle promised.
She swallowed, going still. “You loved her.”
“Very much so.” He pressed his head against the seat, eyes closed as he allowed old memories and their pain to intrude. “With a bit of pressure, I was able to secure Julian a spot on the Italian ski team. But he didn’t care about Alpine. Extreme ski drove him. Challenged him.”
“Then why did he agree to participate in Alpine?”
“Father exerted his muscle,” Luc said. “Adding to the pressure, the sports world jumped on Julian’s natural ability, touting him as the faster and more daring Duchelini. It was a challenge few men could walk away from.”
“Was he really that good?” she asked.
“Better than good. Off the record, he beat me most of the time.” He fisted his hands on the chair, remembering how jealous he’d been of his brother’s bravado and skill. His freedom. “All champions know it is a matter of time before their records will be broken. I shattered my father’s records and Julian had the potential to best mine, but his heart remained in extreme ski, which is why he turned in such a poor performance at the World Cup.”
“Is that why Julian seemed so upset the day I left?”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his knuckles along his jawline, glaring at the ceiling as the jet leveled off at cruising altitude. “No. I realized he got a tremendous high from extreme skiing and told him I, too, was going to compete against him there. He threw a fit. Said I wasn’t prepared. That I hadn’t practiced the quicksilver moves needed to attempt the extreme ski.”
She wet her lips, eyes narrowed and breathing shallow, looking vulnerable, pensive, concerned. That last one got him in the gut like a blow.
“Why? You were a four-time Alpine champion, skilled in tackling the toughest slopes in ungodly conditions. At the World Cup I remember you attacking the slopes with reckless abandon, earning gold in everything you entered.”
He loosed a bitter laugh at his carnal failings then and now, recalling that dark period in his life. If only he could alter time and go back, he might have been able to prevent the tragedy.
“Why doesn’t matter,” he said bitterly. “Alpine no longer thrilled me. But Julian refused to let up. So I challenged him to a race to decide my future. If he won, I would bow out of extreme ski.”
“And if you won, you would compete against your brother in the sport he excelled in.”