“I have something else to say.”
Rhys’s heart throbbed and threatened to break free of his chest. His heart knew what words it hoped she would speak.
And he knew he would say them back to her.
“Thank you,” she said.
His brow formed a deep trench in his forehead from which it might never recover. “Thank you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re thanking me?”
She nodded. “For last night and the night before, actually.”
He was trying to get this straight, truly. But he was having a devil of a time… “You’re thanking me for…what?… Tupping you?” He might feel a hair insulted.
A blush staining her cheeks, she shook her head. “I’m thanking you for introducing me to parts of myself that I didn’t know existed.”
“Like?” What was he hearing, anyway?
“Well, desire, for one. And pleasure, for another.” The tips of her ears had gone red.
But Rhys had no interest in sparing her blushes. “And that’s all I introduced you to?”
She blinked.
He shouldn’t have said it, but those hopes of his had embedded deep into his heart, he now understood.
“Have a happy Christmas, Rhys.”
And with that, she made her way to the door and, this time, through it.
She was gone.
He shoved to his feet and crossed the room, only stopping when he was within reaching distance of the ring. He lifted and held it to the meager light.
This ring had a lot to answer for.
It had first been the unmaking of him.
Then the making.
And now the unmaking again.
The loss of it had brought Tilly to him.
And now with the attainment of it, he’d lost her.
In truth, he felt piqued and slightly swindled.
In giving him the ring, Tilly had denied him more time with her.
Time, he realized now, he’d been counting on.
But what she’d done, he also saw, she’d done out of selflessness—out of that good in her heart.
Return it to your pa, Rhys, and make your amends.
