I smiled. “Likewise. I’ll reach out with some days and times, and we’ll find a moment.”
We walked down the elongated steps just in time for Lucien to offer Helena a hand up into the carriage. He paused after and jabbed a finger into James’s shoulder. “And you. Do not go three months without any contact aside from a letter here or there. How dare you.”
“Yes, yes, I’m a terrible friend.”
“You are. Do better.”
James laughed and made a show of helping Lucien up into the carriage, then dodged a foot as Lucien kicked at him for doing so. Yes, these two were definitely friends.
James looked at me after the carriage took off, curiosity written in bold letters all over his face. “What were you two talking about?”
“He wanted me to know he has our backs if anyone tries to separate the two of us. I see why you like him so much. Lucien is a very loyal friend.”
“Oh, he’s that in spades. Also a deucedly good fighter.”
The way he said this… “Did he fight alongside you in the war?”
“More times than I can count. He’s deadly with a rapier. At any rate, might I stay with you tonight?”
“Of course you may.” I had half expected the question. My house was much closer than the palace, and James had been giving me signals all evening that he was quite in the mood for sex. I was too, so truly, my house was the better choice tonight.
We loaded into the carriage, James giving me a hand up as always. It still amused me, this habit of his, but I didn’t argue. He liked to find ways to put his hands on me, that’s all it really amounted to, so I let him.
Once we were ensconced in the privacy of the carriage, I snuggled in against his side and leisurely kissed him. James was a pleasure to kiss. Whenever he kissed me, I felt his full attention, his desire, his affection. It made for a heady cocktail I basked in.
Truthfully, out of the rather few men I’d dated, none compared to James in terms of affection or…anything, really. This man had so much to give, and he chose me to give it to. It was humbling as well as baffling.
Not for the first time, I wondered why, and since I finally had him alone with a few minutes to spare, I chose to ask. I had asked before, but it had been in front of an audience and he’d given a teasing response. Right now, I wanted a real answer.
“James?”
He tried to snuggle in more. Impossible, really. You couldn’t squeeze air between us just then. “Hmm?”
“Why me?”
His head jerked back so he could see my face. “What do you mean?”
“What did I do, in our first life together, that made you love me so ardently?”
“What did you…do?” he repeated with a blank expression, as if my words were nonsensical.
I canted my head to the side, bemused all over again. Surely he had some reason—at least a moment in which he’d realized his feelings. James, seriously, give mesomething. “I must have done something? Or you had a moment when you realized it was me you were in love with?”
The first question confused him, clearly, but he had no problem answering the second.
“It was the first night you helped me sleep, actually.” James’s expression turned almost sad; nostalgic, but not in the best of ways. Like the memory of getting to that point somehow pained him. “I’d been through a hellish month. I was beyond stressed, beyond tired, but I was so filled with tension I couldn’t rest. I was going on three days of not sleeping more than the occasional catnap when you intervened. In the sternest tone I’d heard from you—at the time, at least—you ordered me into my own bed, then sat next to me and started reading from a book. I was so flummoxed by the whole thing, I did as bid. I think I was too exhausted to really argue, in hindsight. But I lay there, watching your face as you read to me, and realized I loved you. You made me incredibly happy in one breath, pained in the next, because here I was engaged to another and couldn’t even imagine confessing my heart to you.”
This made perfect sense to me. “Your love language is acts of service, I know. Did my many acts of service to you do it?”
“I don’t think it was just that, although I will say it brought you to my attention.”
Also perfectly reasonable.
It did make me wonder, had I loved him in return? Had my love been more platonic in nature, or had I felt the same romantic call to my own heart? It was impossible to know, of course; past me wasn’t someone I could confer with. Still, I had died trying to keep this man alive and sane. Which said a lot. I couldn’t imagine myself doing all of that because of a job. I had gone beyond the call of duty multiple times from his account. If I had to guess…I had loved him just as ardently.
“What were we, star-crossed lovers?” I muttered.
“Not in this life. I won’t stand for it.”
