Blake raked back his hair. “More than capable. She used him to get the Ring, no doubt promised to love him forever”—as she had done with Blake—“and after he was of no further use, she did away with him.”
“Heartless,” Emeline breathed out.
“Now you understand her.”
“I believe she is a witch.” Emeline hugged herself. “I have no doubt your illness was a result of some vile spell she cast upon you.”
“A witch?” He shook his head. “Indeed, that makes more sense than I care to admit.”
“Poor Maston.” Moisture glazed her eyes. “I am sorry he was willing to betray you.”
Grabbing his glass, Blake pushed from the desk and went to refill it. “Maston lived for himself. He was driven by a lust for every pleasure he could find.”
“Hmm. Similar to your lust for power,” she countered sarcastically.
Blake faced her, drink in hand. One of her adorable brows quirked in jest. Yet was it a jest? More truth than jest, for her words pricked his heart. Was he no different than Maston? They both sought things in this life that would satisfy and protect. Maston yearned for love in the arms of women. Perhaps because, like Blake, he’d been tossed to the streets by one. And Blake sought power to prevent such a tragedy from occurring again.
As the last vestiges of light dipped over the horizon, shadows crept out of hiding. Blake could no longer see the exquisite details of her face. After taking a gulp of rum, he set down his glass, then struck flint to steel and lit the lantern on his desk. Threads of golden light spread outward, landing on Emeline and circling her in a golden glow—a heavenly glow. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t hail from that eternal city, sent down to Earth to set him aright.
Her eyes searched his, a look in them he’d not seen before. A look that stirred his heart, making him want to promise her the world if she’d only continue gazing at him like that.
“I should leave.” She backed away. “Am I to lodge in the same cabin?”
He reached for her hand and stayed her. “Don’t go.”
She faced him but said nothing.
“Pedro told me what you did,” he said.
The slightest catch of her breath sounded, barely noticeable, and she lowered her gaze.
“That you were about to escape, indeed,couldhave escaped. But when you discovered how ill I was, you forsook your only opportunity and returned.” He still could not believe it…that anyone would put the needs of others ahead of themselves. Scads! The needs of her captor! What kind of creature stood before him? Angel? Saint? A true lady with the heart of a queen.
She gave him a tender smile. “I couldn’t very well allow you to die, could I?”
“Why not? I’ve kept you prisoner against your will for nigh a month. There’s not a person on Earth who would not have taken the chance to get away. But not you.” Reaching up, he brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. Always so soft.
At first, she closed her eyes at his touch, then snapped them open and took a step back, her breathing coming fast. “Human life is far more important than my freedom.”
“Any human life?” He longed to hear that she cared, that she had returned because she felt affection for him.
“Any.” She would not meet his gaze.
“I don’t believe you.”
Confusion wrinkled her brow. “Why would I lie?”
“Because you feel something for me. I see it in your eyes. I felt it in your kiss.”
Red flushed across her face. From anger or shame, he couldn’t tell. “You insufferable, lecherous toad! Do you think every female fawns over your affections?”
“Perhaps.” He grinned. “But I care that only a particular one does.”
With a humph, she turned to leave.
“A wager, then?”
She spun, eyes aflame.
