“B-but it’s too long and too far away!” The words scraped out of her.
His shoulders shifted. “Until I’ve built something they can’t take. Until I can return as a man they can’t deny.”
“You shouldn’t have done it,” she said, sharper than she meant. Fear gave her tongue its edge. “They watch you always.”
“He was in agony. I had the skill. Why shouldn’t porcelain on gold be for anyone who suffers? Why should comfort be a privilege?” His voice was low but fierce.
She stepped nearer. “Because you’re exactly the man they want to break. And now they’ll drag Father down with you.”
His jaw set hard. “That’s why I’m leaving. To spare him. To spare you. I just wish—” his voice roughened—“I wish you could come.”
Her arms locked around herself. “I can’t. He needs me. Deena needs me.”
The silence between them pulsed.
At last he turned, and the look in his eyes stole her breath. “You shouldn’t have to carry it all alone.”
Her throat burned. “I will. For them. But not without you.”
They faced each other, words useless, the air alive with what neither dared say. Then she moved, drawn by something unstoppable. He caught her, hands steady on her, and their mouths met—urgent, consuming, a kiss against time itself.
Her cloak slid to the floor. His fingers framed her face, trembled once, then steadied, memorizing her. The kiss deepened, carrying the vow neither dared speak: no exile, no ocean, no distance could unmake this fire.
*
Outside, Vienna stirred.A vendor cart creaked down the lane. A bell fromStephansdomtolled, heavy and insistent. Morning was on its way—but not yet. Not for them.
Her gown slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her ankles with a whisper. Candlelight gilded her skin in amber and shadow. She stood barefoot, trembling—but it was not fear. It was certainty. This was the threshold. Once crossed, there would be no going back.
Faivish stilled, as though struck. He let his gaze drink her in, every curve, every trembling breath—not with hunger alone, but with reverence, memorizing her like the gorgeous image could carry her across the sea inside his chest. At last, he stepped forward, lifted her hand between both of his, and kissed it. Not a kiss—a seal.
“You’re sure?” His voice rasped low.
“I am.” Her eyes held his, steady. “I promise I’ll wait.”
The words felt like vows. Not said lightly. Not for them. They bound hearts as surely as if a canopy had been raised above them and the blessing spoken aloud.
A sharp breath left him. He pressed his forehead to hers. Whatever oceans lay ahead, she was his, and he hers.
They moved together then. Linen against linen, the whisper of garments loosening, of skin bared and discovered. Thought gave way to touch—the brush of her hair against his jaw, the heat blooming wherever her hands found him. She clutched his shoulders and he kissed her, deeper, until nothing remained but vow, warmth, and the aching sweetness of her mouth.
He drew back just far enough to see her face, flushed and unguarded in the candlelight. Her chest rose unevenly, her shift clinging sheer to her form, revealing and concealing at once. Her tremor undid him—not weakness, but raw trust.
“You’re so very perfect,” he murmured, and kissed her again.
She rose on her toes, pulling him closer. He lifted her easily and set her on his narrow cot. Her shift slipped higher along her thighs; she made a soft sound that melted into anticipation.
He knelt beside her, breathing hard, tracing a reverent hand up her leg. “May I?”
Maisie nodded, hair spilling wild over his pillow.
He lifted the shift, revealing pale skin inch by inch, until she lay before him, arching ever so slightly in invitation. He bent his head, kissed her, and her breath broke into a sound he knew would haunt him if he lived to be a hundred.
When he moved lower, her hands hesitated at her hips. Her eyes went wide. “I’ve never—no one has ever…”
He froze, searching her face. “We don’t have to.”
Slowly, she moved her hands aside. That act alone felt like the greatest gift of his life.
