He wanted to kiss the lines of worry from her forehead. To gather her in his arms and hold her softness to him, to lose himself in the benediction that was this wondrous woman he had married.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his voice hoarse from the tumult within. “It is I who should be apologizing, for dragging you into this hellish mess. Your name will be run through the mud along with mine, and you do not deserve such brutal treatment.”
Indeed, she only deserved the best.
She shook her head. “I should not have requested the newspaper after what Mr. Barlowe said last night at dinner. Had I known the story would be on the front page, I never would have done so.”
There was something indefinable sparkling in the gold-brown depths of her beautiful eyes. He hoped to Christ it was not pity, for he could not bear it. Loathing would be preferable. After the manner in which he had conducted their marriage thus far, it would certainly be understandable.
“You need not protect me, Ellie,” he said, and it was true. “I am aware that I have become the talk of the town and that all London suspects I murdered Mrs. Ainsley. Everyone seems to have an opinion on the matter. Some suspect I murdered her because I missed the ability to solve cases. Others because we had a lovers’ spat. The speculation is as endless as it is wrong.”
She stepped closer and reached for him again, cupping his cheek with such tenderness he could have wept were he not so inured to tears from all his years in Scotland Yard. “This is not a battle you need to fight on your own, Hudson. Let me fight it with you.”
He did not hesitate. “No.”
“But Hudson—”
“No,” he said again, more firmly this time. “I’ll not bring you into this any more than you have already suffered.”
“That decision should be mine, do you not think?” Her thumb stroked his cheek. “You have not shaved again today.”
He swallowed, wanting her to keep touching him forever yet feeling as if he ought to push her away and put a necessary distance between them. “Perhaps I ought to look the part of the monster they believe me to be.”
“You do not look like a monster at all.” The tenderness in her expression hit him in the chest. “You look like the man I married, only with a rakish shadow of whiskers on his jaw. I rather prefer it, actually.”
“You do?” For a moment, he forgot the threats of the outside world, determined to crush him. Instead, she was the entire focus. Pleasing her. Doing whatever he must to ensure she continued to look at him in exactly this fashion.
As if he were a man worthy of her.
As if she desired him.
Her thumb traveled lower, brushing over his mouth. “I do.”
“I will never shave again,” he vowed, kissing the velvet pad of that lone digit.
Her smile was slow and sweet and made his cock twitch to life. “Just to please me?”
“Anything to please you. Whatever you want, Ellie. Say the word, and it is yours.”
“I want you to let me help you,” she said. “Let me assist in your investigations. I am your wife, and I do not want you to face this alone.”
Assist in his investigations?Christ.She was asking too much of him, though it warmed his heart that she was willing to do that. Forhim.
He caught her wrist in a gentle grip, holding her hand in place, and pressed a kiss to the silken skin. “I will not expose you to danger.”
“I am hardly fashioned of glass, Hudson,” she countered stubbornly. “I will not shatter or break. You should not face this on your own.”
His resolve was fading, foolish though he knew it was. “Ellie.”
“Please.” Her other hand came up to frame his face, her gaze searching his.
How could he deny her? He thought he would happily pluck the sun from the sky and deliver it to her on a silver salver if he could.
He nodded, relenting. “Very well. Within reason.”
Her smile blossomed, stealing his breath. “Thank you, Hudson.”
He took her mouth with his then, the words he meant to say unraveling themselves in his heart instead.
