“More than anything.” He spoke for her ears only this time.
Inside his townhouse, the noise from the street faded to a murmur, replaced by the quick, clipped steps of his boots on the stairs. His arms tightened around her as he reached his chamber and eased the door open, and then, carefully, he set her down on his bed. Underneath the ash and the dried trail of blood, her face was white as a sheet, stark against the clean, dark coverlet.
For a moment, he could only gaze down at her, feeling the need to memorize every minute detail, every fleck of color in her eyes, every angle in her face. The same reassuring words she’d been murmuring to herself echoed in his mind—she’s safeandI love her…
He tucked an unruly curl behind her ear, the strand stiff with soot and grit, and she gave him a wobbly smile in reply.
He wanted to remain here with her forever, just the two of them. But they were not alone for long.
“Water, Your Grace.” His housekeeper appeared at his elbow, placing a cup in his hand, while another maid hovered with a stack of fresh linens.
He knelt beside the bed, pressing the rim to Melanie’s lips. “Drink,” he said, his voice rough, unsteady. “Please, Melanie.”
She obeyed, her fingers brushing his hand as she drank. The touch was fleeting, but it broke something loose inside him.
He’d come so close to losing her forever. Too close.
“You came,” she said, her voice hoarse, but her eyes…
Filled with wonder.
Malum shook his head. “Of course.” And then, a wave of weakness hit him, a wave so heavy he could hardly keep his head up. “I was almost too late. God, I almost lost you.”
“You were just in time.” Her voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. She must be in shock, otherwise, she wouldn’t be speaking to him so kindly.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you last night,” he said. “I was…”
“You were trying to protect me, weren’t you?”
Malum stared at her. How could she be so understanding? “I didn’t mean it, you know. Someone was watching us, and they couldn’t know how much you meant to me.”
“In that case, you’re forgiven.” How did she do it?
From the moment they’d met, she’d seemed to see right through him. She knew him, and yet, she seemed somehow…
He didn’t deserve her.
Malum leaned forward, his hands cradling her face, oh, so tenderly. She was the most precious thing in the world.
She parted her lips, and he couldn’t help himself.
“Melanie,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against hers, not in urgency but in reverence, as though he needed to reassure them both that she was here, alive, safe.
Her hands found their way to his, trembling slightly, and his fingers tightened against her cheeks. The heat of her skin beneath his palms, the way her breath mingled with his—he needed it. He needed her.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath of… everything.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion.
“I am.” She laughed a little.
But then, when he moved his fingertips, they came away sticky. How the devil had he forgotten that she was injured? “You’re bleeding. Ah, hell. I’m a cad.” But he wasn’t sorry for kissing her. He would never, ever, be sorry for kissing her.
His sole purpose in life, he now knew, was to love this woman.
He drew back just enough to study the blood at her hairline, unable to stop touching her, though he made sure to do so gently.
When she tilted her head away with a wince, Malum hissed through his teeth. “He did this. Crossings.”
