When he’d come outside, Malum had intended to speak with her about serious matters, the things Northwoods had implied, about her and about Crossings’ plans. Would they have noticed her at all if Malum hadn’t taken her for his fiancée? And now that they had, would she be safer at his side or away from him?
Her reputation, her family’s reputation, the rumors surrounding Standish—and then this cloak and dagger business with Crossings and the tea-for-opium trade. A single misstep could lead to severe—possibly dire—consequences.
He should never have been caught alone with her in that damned library at that damned ball. But what was done was done. And he… could not make the two align, what he wanted and what he should want.
When he’d buried himself deep inside her—that had had nothing to do with duty. It hadn’t been about protection or propriety. It had been raw, unbridled need. In that moment, it had felt…
Meaningful—fated, even.
His jaw tightened as he stared up at the stars, their pale light doing nothing to soothe the storm brewing inside him. He’d complicated everything terribly.
And yet, all of that aside…
Did he deserve someone like her?
No.
But he wanted her—had fantasized about it, in fact. But not like this.
She deserved better than a tumble in the grass and the risk of discovery. She deserved silk sheets and candlelight and every ounce of reverence he could muster.
Melanie, with her adorably crooked smile and curious eyes…
Damnit, she deserved to be safe from scheming old dukes and earls.
Malum shifted, propping himself up so his gaze could simply drink her in.
Dark locks of hair spilled across the ground in luxurious waves, and her skin seemed to glow. She looked content, and that, more than anything else, unsettled him.
“Melanie,” he murmured, his voice rough.
Her lashes fluttered, and she turned to stare back at him, her expression thoughtful, but also open. Just as she went to speak, however, the sound of a creaking door drifted across the lawn.
Malum's head snapped toward it, the instinct to shield her overriding every other thought. He moved swiftly, tugging his coat closed and buttoning his trousers with methodical efficiency.
Melanie, on the other hand, was flustered in a way that tugged at something deep inside him. Her fingers trembled as she readjusted her bodice, her cheeks flushed pink, and as she searched the ground for the pins he’d removed, her hair draped around her face in a way that made her look... ethereal. And yet,there was an undeniable vulnerability in her wide eyes, and he knew he’d protect her at all costs.
“Mel, are you out here?” One of her sisters, no doubt, called across the courtyard, voice tinged with curiosity but thankfully free of suspicion.
Malum felt Melanie tense, her breath catching audibly before she called back, her voice high but steady. “I’ll be right there!”
“Go on,” he murmured, offering her a hand to help her up. “I’ll slip out unseen.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, searching her expression. She was ruffled but resolute, and the look in her eyes mirrored his own now.
“Harry…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We’ll sort this out,” he said, his tone firm but low, an edge of promise woven through the words. There was too much to untangle tonight, too many thoughts crashing into each other. He needed to get his head straight before saying anything he couldn’t take back. He owed her that much. “Go.”
She hesitated, her lips parting and then closing again as though there was more she wanted to say, but then nodded and darted through the hedges to greet her sister. Malum waited in the shadows, watching as Lady Josephine met her at the doorway, her silhouette briefly illuminated before the door closed behind them.
The courtyard fell silent once more, save for the faint trickle of the fountain. Malum exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he straightened his coat. The night air was cool against his skin, but it did little to temper the heat still coursing through him.
What the hell had he done?
He crossed the lawn swiftly, slipping out through a side gate into the stillness of the night. Finding his driver waiting, he dismissed the man with a curt nod—walking would clear his head better than a carriage ride.
The hour was late, the streets quieter than usual, but his thoughts churned relentlessly as he made his way toward Regent Street. His body still hummed from his release, but his mind cut through the haze with ruthless precision.
This charade of theirs was over, that much was clear. Whether he should end their engagement or make it real, once and for all… that was the question that remained.
