“I thought of you,” she whispered.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Monty wanted to tell her to be quiet. He didn’t think about those days. Didn’t go back there, but this woman had known him before. She was part of his life when he’d still had an innocent hope for a future. If anyone had the right to speak of that time, it was her.
“I am no longer that boy, Iris.”
“You had no one, didn’t you?” Tears filled her lovely eyes. “No one held you when you cried or helped you grieve.”
“I am well,” he got out around the lump in his throat. Her tears were for him and rolled silently down her cheeks. They made his chest hurt. “Stop crying.” He moved to cup her face, and she flinched.
“What did he do to you?” Theo’s words were hoarse as he touched her cheeks.
“Who?”
“Your husband. What did he do to you?”
Her laugh was humorless. “He did not beat me if that’s what you mean. Once, he slapped me. I learned after that, and he never had a reason to do so again. But Henry…” Her words broke on a sob. “He hurt my son.”
Monty’s hand found its way to her back and pulled her closer. He held her as if she was made of fragile spun glass.
“I h-hated him, Theo.”
“With good reason, no doubt.”
She laid her cheek on his chest, and his chin sat on her head, like they were made to fit together this way. In that moment, they were both defenseless.
“I’m sorry you suffered, Theo.”
“As I am sorry you suffered too, Iris.” He let his eyes sweep her bedroom. The grand bed with its four posts and gossamer drapes. The deep green velvet cover stitched with her late husband’s crest. Everywhere he looked he saw luxury and grandness.
“Tell me you hate this room.”
Her laugh made him smile. “I do, but as yet have done nothing about it.”
“From memory, you loved peach.”
“I did.”
“Then decorate it that color.”
She sighed. “I want the truth about my husband, Theo. And if that comes with the realization that he had something to do with your parents’ deaths, I want to know that too.”
“I know.” And he did. She wanted justice for him, and for his parents who she had loved. “Iris, I need to let you go now and walk away.” Because he wanted this. Wanted to hold her and feel her in his arms. Wanted to give and receive comfort like other people did in their lives.
Not him, however. He’d chosen another path.
“For the first time in a long while, I feel safe,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming for me tonight, Theo. I know you had someone watching me because my late husband could be a link to your parents’ murders, but—”
“That wasn’t the only reason, Iris.” He eased her off his chest. His hand once again cupped her face. “I did it because I… I care that you and Henry are safe.”
She looked up at him, her eyes damp with tears, and something inside Monty released. He couldn’t fight this anymore.
He moved slowly, so she could pull back if she wanted, and placed his lips on hers. Just a soft brush. Iris tensed but did not pull away.
“You say he didn’t hurt you, but—”
“He didn’t hurt me, Theo. I promise. I was simply a chattel to him.”
