James’s mouth tightened. “Everything.”
Roderick waited.
James forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Eleanor.”
Roderick blinked. “Eleanor?”
James turned his face toward the window again. “If I do not finish this, I cannot protect her.”
Roderick’s tone sharpened. “Protect her from what?”
James hesitated, then said the thing he had not allowed himself to voice clearly. “From being used.”
Roderick’s brow furrowed. “Used how?”
“The man who killed my parents did it because he wanted something,” James said. “Power. Access. Control. He will not stop simply because I married.”
Roderick studied him. “And you believe Eleanor is in danger.”
James’s chest tightened. “She is my wife.”
“That is not an answer,” Roderick said. “Do you believe she is in danger?”
James held his gaze. “Yes.”
Roderick exhaled. “Why did you not say that sooner?”
James’s mouth hardened. “Because it sounds like weakness.”
“It sounds like love,” Roderick corrected.
James flinched as if struck.
“Do not,” James said harshly.
Roderick did not back down. “You did not care about anyone’s safety when you started this. You cared about punishment. Now you are speaking about her like she is the only thing keeping you upright.”
James swallowed hard. “That is not true.”
Roderick’s expression was quietly relentless. “Is it not?”
James’s mind betrayed him. Eleanor at Blackmere’s gates, steadying Arabella’s hand. Eleanor in the kitchen, eyes bright with defiance. Eleanor in the attic, thumb against his cheek, forgiving him when he did not deserve it.
His stomach tightened with a fear he had not known existed before her. Not fear of death. Fear of loss.
“I did not expect her,” James admitted, voice low.
Roderick nodded once. “There it is.”
James’s jaw tightened. “I care about her safety more than revenge now.”
The words landed like a verdict.
He hated them for their truth. He hated them for what they revealed.
Roderick’s voice gentled. “That does not make you weak.”
“It makes me compromised,” James said.
