“My right,” he repeated, softly. The red rim around his eyes darkened.
No. If he cried, she would break. Not just her resistance, but whatever remained of her heart.
With her gloved hand, she reached up and cupped his cheek. “Giles.”
“Can you forgive me?”
The simple answer was no. Her heart huddled in a dark corner, aching and bruised and wanting desperately to keep its tormentor at bay. But her other parts sang at his touch. She wanted more than anything to sing.
“Have I ever met the true Giles?” she asked slowly.
“I judged my mother for her secret,” he said. “I judged you for yours.” His cheek twitched. “It is not fair of me to ask that you do not judge me.” He shuddered as he inhaled. “But, hellion, youknowme,” he touched her heart, “here.”
Perhaps her heart hadn’t been huddling. Perhaps it had been waiting to twirl. Twirl so fast, she was dizzy.
“Do I know you?” Her voice was oddly flat.
With his eyes, he started a thousand sentences. He left them all unfinished.
“May I hold you?” he finally asked.
Her gaze fell to his chest, her body remembered the security she’d found when she’d rested her cheek against his shoulder and demanded she find it again.
“Yes,” she said finally.
Instantly, she was engulfed in his coat. His familiar arms encircled her with strength. His labored breath lifted the curls on her neck. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t trust herself when he was near.
“I cannot think when you are holding me,” she said.
“I do not want you to think,” he whispered against her ear. “I want you to feel.”
“Feeling,” she said, breathless, “is not the problem.” She pulled back. “Ifeel. I feel…everything.”
She opened the door to her chambers and strode inside. Like a lost puppy, he followed.
She froze. This room was unlike any of the others. This room was warm and inviting. And the walls had been painted to reveal a familiar scene—the view of Southford from her mother’s folly.
“The painters have worked through the nights to finish,” he said.
Her eyes traveled over the hemlocks to the columns to the meadow, replete with tiny sheep. Slowly, her gaze moved about the room from table to table, spotting pieces she recognized. Her mother’s keepsake box, her father’s favorite lamp. It was as if he’d sprinkled the room with her most cherished memories.
“How?” she stuttered.
“Markham and Julia helped. One more surprise awaits.” He looked down at his feet. “You’ll sleep in a familiar bed tonight.”
His thoughtfulness moved her beyond words. How could she reconcile this man with the one who’d hurt her so deeply?
She turned away. Her hand shook as she touched one wall. She faced him. She stared for a long moment, searching his face as if she could discern the answer to some riddle. Why was it that he’d lied, and she was the one coming apart?
“Please come back to me,” he pleaded.
“My mind says no, but my heart says…”
“Yes?” He caressed her face with worshipful tenderness.
She did not respond.
“What more can I do?” he asked.
