“It is concluded. It belongs to the past. Dismiss it from your thoughts.”
“Tell me, how is it possible to disengage one's heart from it?”
"Because holding onto it was nearly the death of me.me. Because forgiveness isn't for them, it's for us.”
"You're far too wise."
"I'm far too tired to be anything else."
They sat in comfortable silence, the fire dying to embers. Gabriel played with her hair, pulling pins until it tumbled around her shoulders.
"You're going to make it impossible for me to leave," Clara said quietly.
“It is what I wish.”
“I must leave.
"Why?"
"Because this is temporary. Because you're a duke and I'm…"
"Mine," he interrupted. "For one month, you're mine."
"That's not how it works."
"It is how it will work."
She turned to look at him. "What happens when the month ends?"
“I cannot say.”
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
“Gabriel…”
He didn’t let her finish. His mouth found hers, fierce and unrestrained, the kind of kiss that stripped language from the world. It was all breath and heat and ache, every unsaid word translated into touch. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing as though they’d run for miles.
“Stay,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I am staying.”
“No,” he said, cupping her face. “I mean tonight. Stay with me.”
Her lashes fluttered. “Gabriel…”
“Not for... improper acts,” he managed, the words dragged out of him with visible effort. “Just stay. Sleep beside me. Let me hold you.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Everything about this is dangerous.”
"The servants are certain to talk.”
“Let them amuse themselves. I am prepared to suffer their discourse.”
“Your aunt…”
