“Camelia.” His voice was raw. “You and Pamela opened my eyes.”
“But… how?”
“I rode to Josephine’s grave this morning, fully intending to finish it. Then, I found Pamela’s drawing in my pocket. It was a portrait of us beneath a willow tree. I struggled to keep both of you out of my mind; it was unbearable.” His eyes glistened. “Until I decided that I just could not do it. I could not leave her, and I could not leave you.”
Camelia stared at him through swollen eyes. “Raph, I thought I lost you.”
“I know, I thought I lost myself, too. But the truth is, I found the real me when I met you. The me that wants to live and love.”
“Love?” Camelia’s eyes widened.
“Yes, Camelia. I love you.” He spoke the words roughly and reverently as though they had been locked inside him for years. “I love you so fiercely it terrifies me more than any bullet ever could. When I thought of you, I couldn’t go ahead with the duel.”
Camelia made a broken sound and reached for him. “Raph, I love you too.”
He caught her hands and pressed desperate kisses to her knuckles.
“Forgive me,” he whispered against her skin. “Forgive me for every minute of terror I caused you today. I will spend the rest of my life making it right.”
“I forgave you as soon as I walked through those doors and saw you alive with no more bullet wounds adorning you.”
“I’m here, Camelia. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“What about Montague?” she asked. “Will he threaten us forever?”
Raph’s jaw clenched. “We do not have to worry about him.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, I have evidence. Letters, witnesses, and debts. It’s enough to see him hanged or exiled.”
“Why haven’t you used it before?”
“I never used it because a trial would drag Pamela’s name through every courtroom and scandal sheet in England. I was afraid.” He met her eyes. “But I am not afraid anymore. Because I have you and Pamela. That is all that matters to me.”
She cupped his face in her hand. He was rough under her soft touch. “Oh, how I prayed for your safe return, Raph. We figured out that he tried to trap you!”
“Let him try, and let him speak. I will destroy him with truth instead of blood.”
Camelia slipped from the sofa and rose, her hands sliding up Raph’s arms to close around his shoulders. She pulled him up slowly, as though the weight of the day still clung to him. When he stood before her, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.
It was not soft or gentle. It was a kiss forged in terror and relief, in hours of dread and the sudden, blinding miracle of his breath against her lips. It tasted of salt and smoke and the sharp edge of near loss.
Her fingernails dug into the nape of his neck, anchoring him to her as if he might still vanish. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, trembling with the same fierce gratitude.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads still pressed together, both of them were shaking, breathing ragged in the quiet room, Camelia’s body aching for him.
They held each other desperately.
“We have to tell Pamela,” she whispered.
“When should we?”
“Tonight. We will tell her everything. And we’ll do it together.”
Raph closed his eyes and exhaled like a man finally surfacing from deep water. “Together,” he echoed.
Camelia took his hand, lacing their fingers tight. “Yes. And she has waited long enough for herfatherto come home.”
