She understood that. It was the same hollow aftertaste she’d known with Rafferty. That aftertaste hadn’t fully left, even now. Though, since their marriage, it had lost a lot of its punch. But that didn’t mean the hurt disappeared. In fact, at times, it made her even more angry that he hadn’t gotten his comeuppance.
“Because he is still in your old house? I’m surprised you didn’t drag him off.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Because he is still breathing.”
Her chest tightened. Without thinking, she reached out beneath the sheet and found his hand. He froze, but his fingers closed around hers, warm and steady. “I’d want him dead, too,” she murmured. “There is nothing wrong with that.”
He let out a soft laugh. “We’re a pair of rogues, then.”
She surprised herself by answering with a grin that felt dangerously like admission. “Some rogues do the world a service.”
He tightened his hand once more, and she could almost,almost, forget her own rules she’d set for this marriage. In that moment, holding his hand felt perilously close to temptation. The truestinconvenience when it came to this man, and the exact opposite of her aim.
He could breatheagain.
Ever since he’d walked from his uncle’s house, despite the satisfaction of watching their faces blanch, there had been a hollowness that no triumph seemed able to fill. It had begun as a small, ignorable pinch and, over the hours, grown into a pressure that settled on each of his temples in a pounding throb.
The moment he saw her, all that pressure lifted, and the pain all but disappeared.
Some rogues do the world a service.
She hadn’t changed all that much. This was something the old Alyssia would have said as well. Only the tone with which she said it had changed. Life had taken a girl and sharpened her. She still challenged him. Could still ruffle him with a look. Could still make him question his every life choice.
And he couldn’t stop from wondering about hers.
He should have kept abreast of her doings these past years. That was his second biggest regret in life. The thought tightened something in his gut. Without thinking, he leaned in, close enough to feel her breath hitch, and brushed his nose against hers. Just a touch. Just toknow she was real.
For a second, she froze, before she reared back, her hand yanking from his.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, rubbing her nose. “Are you still a little boy?”
“All men are little boys,” he countered with a grin. “Well, parts of us. And this is our thing, isn’t it?”
“Wasour thing, and it doesn’t count if we don’t mutually agree to do it!”
“Mutually?” He arched a brow. “You make it sound like a treaty we signed.”
“It may as well be one,” she shot back. “Boundaries exist for a reason, Giles, which you probably don’t know since you are so bad at keeping to them!”
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “And yet, every time I find one of yours, you redraw it closer.”
Her mouth fell open. “I do not!”
“You do,” he said, the last of his earlier mood vanishing. “You just moved this one an inch closer to my nose.”
She swatted his shoulder. “You’re impossible! Get out of my bed!”
“But I’ve grown quite fond of this bed.” He grinned, unrepentant. “How could I ever leave it?”
Her glare turned feral before she scoffed and turned on her side, back to him. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”
“Ah, come now, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Liss, then. I’m also partial to wife.”
“Shouldn’t you be focused on more serious things, like what your uncle might do now that he knows you are alive?”
