He’s almost a stranger to me, but maybe that’s been to my detriment. I’ve always spurned my family, but I might not have to be entirely alone anymore.
I have a brother.
And I have Abigail.
“Give up the title, or your murderous son will be the first thing the British public sees on the morning news.” I twist the knife, compelling my father’s compliance.
He’s almost purple now, but my mother’s complexion has gone chalk white. Even her lips are pale; they’re pressed togetherso hard that I wonder if she’ll ever be able to unlock her jaw to speak a cruel word again.
“Damn you,” Dad hisses. “Fine. James will have the title. We will go to Spain. Return to your American exile. I never want to see your face again.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I assure him. “I anticipate our renewed estrangement.”
He braces a supportive arm around my mother before her knees can buckle, and he mostly drags her out of the cramped space.
Abigail is beaming at me, as though we’ve been engaged in a thrilling game, and we’ve just won. Her giddy energy is catching, and I grin right back at her like a fool.
James sighs, but I don’t bother looking in his direction. I can’t tear my gaze from her: my perfect Abigail, my miracle.
When she found out that I killed Stephen for her, I’d thought she would never be able to live with it. Some part of me preferred prison to the prospect of seeing her disgust at my murderous capabilities. A jail sentence would’ve been easier to bear than her rejection.
But she’s not turning from me in horror. She’s choosing me. She devised a way to make my parents pay for their sins and free me at the same time.
“Come on,” she urges. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nod. “I’m ready to retract my statement.”
Wherever she goes, I’ll follow. I won’t allow anyone to separate me from her ever again.
55
ABIGAIL
Dane is stunning in the mid-morning sunlight, even if his midnight hair is slightly disheveled from the sleepless night in the police station. Once he was released, I insisted that we go on a walk instead of returning to our rented penthouse to nap. After being trapped behind bars for hours, he needs fresh air and freedom.
His untrimmed beard is a shade darker than usual, but it only adds to his rugged perfection. Despite his fatigue from the ordeal, his forest green eyes are intent on mine as ever. He studies me like he’s memorizing each of my features.
“I thought they might not let you out,” I confess, my chest tight with residual anxiety. “James promised that he could handle everything, but I wasn’t sure until we walked out of the station. It still doesn’t quite feel real that we’re walking around York.”
The setting is lush: gardens surround the ruins of a centuries-old abbey, and the public space is quiet at this early hour. It feels as though we have the entire park to ourselves. I’m grateful for the intimate time with Dane.
His hand firms around mine. “I won’t let anything separate us ever again,” he promises. “Did the police give you a hard time while I was being questioned?”
“No,” I reassure him. “The officers were nice to me once they arrested you. I think they expected me to talk if they treated me kindly. But I would never betray you,” I swear. “And I wouldn’t ask you to take anything from your parents that might come with strings attached. Thank you for accepting James’ help.”
His eyes pierce me straight to my heart. “I would do anything to be with you. Thank you for making me see reason. James doesn’t deserve my hatred.” His lips quirk in a cruelly satisfied smile. “You came up with the perfect solution. My parents will be utterly miserable spending the rest of their lives in their quiet slice of paradise, unable to return to England.”
“They deserve worse,” I assert, fiercely protective.
He drops a doting kiss on my forehead. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to make them suffer. Nothing will ever be adequate punishment for all of their sins, but you’ve ensured that they will finally face some consequences. It’s more than I ever managed.”
“You don’t have to waste one more minute of your time or energy on them,” I reply staunchly. “You’re free, Dane.”
“Thanks to you, my clever pet.”
I flush at the endearment, not remotely irked by the diminutive term. I could never feel degraded by it when Dane says it with such reverence.
“I had several long hours to think last night,” I say, considering my words carefully. “Before I was sure that they would release you, I thought I might be compelled to give evidence against you.”
