Come soon,she thought.Please.
Chapter Thirty-One
The house hadgone quiet at last, but Faivish had sent her a message to meet her at midnight. Upstairs, doors clicked shut, and Deena’s even breathing rose through the stillness. Maisie had no rest in her. When it was finally almost twelve, she slipped through the corridor and out into the courtyard—a place walled in by brick and ivy, shut from the street, locked from both sides. Safe, at least for this hour. A sanctuary at the Pearler’s fortress.
The air was soft and damp. Ivy curled along the brick, peonies hung heavy and fragrant, their velvet heads bowed as though listening. The fountain whispered over stone, its silver ripples catching the moonlight.
Faivish was already there, waiting by the fountain like the night itself had carried him in. The lamplight from the hall had not followed—only moon and shadow—but she would have known him even in darkness. Broad shoulders, coat dark with rain, eyes lit with the same ache she felt in her heart.
She walked to him in silence, her skirts brushing the cobbles, her breath steady only because she forced it so. When she reached him, her hand rose—hesitant, trembling—before she pressed it flat to his chest.
His heart thudded against her palm.
Faivish let out a breath that sounded like surrender. He loweredhis forehead to hers. “You came.”
“I will always come when you call,” she whispered as he already leaned in.
His first kiss was soft—testing, almost unbelieving. The second lingered, her lips parting, his breath tangling with hers. Then hunger found them both, long-starved, long-denied. She kissed him like thirst meeting water, and he kissed her like a man who had walked through deserts to reach this well.
Her shawl slid from her shoulders, pooling at their feet. She didn’t care.
His hands framed her face, reverent, aching. Her fingers gripped his lapels, tugging him closer, clinging as if he might vanish if she loosened her hold.
She broke for air just long enough to murmur, “There’s nothing here but a bench and a wall.”
“And you,” he said hoarsely. “That’s everything.”
He kissed her again—deeper, unguarded, claiming. Her hands slid into his hair, damp curls catching between her fingers. His palms found the curve of her waist, then higher, skimming the silk of her gown as though to memorize the shape of her.
“I can’t lose you again,” he said against her mouth. “Not to List. Not to fear. Not to anything.”
“You won’t,” she breathed.At least not tonight.
She backed against the fountain, cool stone firm at her spine. One foot lifted to the rim, skirts shifting, baring the pale line of her calf. Faivish stilled at the sight, his breath catching, then stepped between her knees.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, though his hands already trembled against her hips.
Maisie did not answer. She caught his hand, guided it to the hem of her skirt. Her fingers brushed his, sure and unflinching. “I’ve hidden long enough.”
His throat worked. “Mayn sheyns…” My beauty.
Her smile was fragile, radiant. “Say it again.”
“You are beautiful,” he said, his voice breaking. “Brave. Mine.”
His mouth traced her jaw, her throat, the hollow where her pulse leapt. Each kiss was slower, heavier, heat coiling like banked embers. She gasped when his hand slid beneath her bodice, his thumb grazing the rise of her breast through the thin chemise.
He froze—just a heartbeat—then bent, kissing her skin there with aching reverence. She arched into him, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his waistcoat.
“I want to feel you,” she whispered, breath ragged. “I’ve lived for safety. But you—” her lips trembled against his ear, “—you make me feel alive.”
“You will,” he promised.
Her bodice loosened under his hands, silk slipping down her arms. Moonlight found her skin—warm, flushed, freckled, glistening faintly with the garden’s cool damp. His rough breeches pressed against her thighs as he leaned closer, heat sparking everywhere their bodies touched.
“Still cold?” he murmured, his voice ragged with restraint.
Her answer was only a soft, urgent sound—half gasp, half plea—as she pulled him to her again. “No,” she whispered. “Not with you.”
