Lucien(61)

Luc snorted to himself. That still didn’t explain or justify why his father had subscribed to absentee parenting weekly. That unforgivable truth had done more damage to Luc’s sisters than he could ever forgive his father for. Add that to the emotional baggage his mother carried and tried to pass off to her daughters… hell, it was a wonder he and his sisters had any sort of normalcy in their life at all.



Flipping another page in the magazine, he wondered if his mother had forgiven him yet for inviting his father to the wedding. It’d been a calculated risk, but one he knew had to happen. Not for his sake, but his mother’s. She needed closure. To finally open her eyes and look beyond her own bitterness towards her past mistakes and accept the truth. Then maybe she’d practice some ‘live and learn’ philosophy, get over it, and stop letting her fears of repeating the past from poisoning his sisters’ outlook on life.



The burden of keeping the dream alive for his sisters was heavy enough without having to continually fight his mother’s demons. But the battle would be waged. Not for him, but for Lucy, Cindi, and Eleanor. It was—as his grandfather continually reminded and occasionally used to blackmail him—Luc’s duty to see to his sisters’ health, welfare, and happiness. Something that unfortunately included preventing them from running from every man who dared tempt their fragile romantic hearts with a perfectly good happily ever after.



Just the thought of that daunting task was enough to make him put alcoholism on his daily to do list. Which reminded him. He was overdue for a call in to Eleanor to find out how Lucy and Cindi were handling the subconscious grenade he’d lobbed at them with during the wedding. Luc smirked to himself. Knowing the two groomsmen he’s convinced to give Lucy and Cindi another chance—Rafe Winters and Michael Brand—he fully expected there to be another round of weddings in the Masters clan by the year’s end.



Which left him with only one more sister to deal with. Eleanor and the target of her obsession, Ben. Hell, thinking back on all the misery he’d endured watching Ben and Eleanor dance their way through skirmish after skirmish only to end up alone should be enough to make Luc hate his mother for her irrational need to make sure her daughters didn’t repeat her mistakes.



But he couldn’t hate her. She was his mother. He was alive because of her. She’d given him life and in a bizarre way… a purpose for his life. Granted, she’d hugged him a total of twelve times in his life and he’d never quite understood why in her opinion he was to blame for something he’d had no control over. And God knew he’d spent plenty of time going out of his way to make her so proud of him that she would say the words or give him some affection, but… for crying out loud, he was thirty years old and she still hadn’t told him.



But Elise had. Repeatedly. And with much vigor.



Luc closed the magazine and tossed it on the table to his right, then leaned his head back and, closing his eyes, faced the truth. All he had to do was think of his sweet wife and the weight of duty to his sisters faded into oblivion.



No doubt about it. He’d made the right choice marrying Elise. She meant more to him than he could fathom. If he had his way, he’d keep his wife behind closed doors and naked all day, every day, for the rest of their lives. He was addicted to everything about her—smile, laugh, touch, taste. He stifled a groan and adjusted his shrinking trousers. He wanted her again. He always wanted her. No wonder there was a good chance she might be pregnant. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. He’d never experienced—in his entire life—the kind of obsession he felt for his wife. It was like he was afraid to let her out of his sight or reach for fear that she might disappear or leave him.



He couldn’t lose her. She was everything to him. She was the light to his days and nights. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her and—



“Luc?”



He opened his eyes and Elise stood in front of him, her hands clasped in front of her. She glowed with happiness, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. One glimpse at her smile of pure joy and he knew.



Holy hell, I’m gonna be a daddy.



Right on the heels of that whopper came the answer to why he’d fought like hell against telling her everything in his grandfather’s ultimatum.



Holy hell, I’m in love with my wife. And I’m gonna be a daddy.



That was promptly followed by another more sobering thought.



Holy hell, I need to tell her about the broodmare clause.



And how the hell was he going to accomplish that feat such that it wouldn’t drive a wedge between them, cause her to doubt his feelings for her, and make her regret ever deeming his sorry ass worthy?