“You… um, I… I mean, I…” It was such a novel experience to watch her flounder that Delgado allowed himself a few more moments, watching as she picked at the white bedspread.
“About that,” Delgado said, and her gaze flew to his face, the color draining from her cheeks.He didn’t have the heart to play with her, not when he wanted her this badly.“I meant every word, Rowan.”
The color rushed back into her cheeks, she dropped her eyes again.What do you know?I have an effect on her.
It was unexpectedly sweet.He wanted to savor it.
“It’s just… I… I mean, I…” She coughed, uneasily.“You…”
What exactly do you mean?He searched through every scenario he’d planned for and couldn’t quite figure out where this one fit.“It’s all right,” he said, trying not to look as if he was enjoying himself.“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll?—”
“You said we had to talk.”
“We do.”
“What about?”Her hands twisted together.
“Us,” he said, and watched her gaze fly up to meet his.
“Why are you doing this?Everything?”
“I want to,” he said.Wait a minute, what are we talking about?
“I really like you,” Her eyes fixed on the floor, her cheeks crimson.“I really do.”
“I’m sorry this happened,” he said finally.“If I could have stopped it, I would have.I’d give anything to have your father back, and Hilary.For your sake.”
I should be talking to her about how dangerous it is to have everyone know what kind of magic she worked on Sheila.The thought went clean out of his head when she looked up, a tear-track showing on her pale cheek.
“Thank you.”
It was one of the few times in his life Delgado was speechless.Silence stretched between them, a not-quite-uncomfortable quiet.Finally, Rowan sighed and pushed herself up from the bed.“Henderson wants you for a briefing after lunch.And I want to check on?—”
“Screw him.”Delgado sighed, raking his fingers back through his hair.“Look, Rowan, I?—”
She smiled down at him.It literally took his breath away, made his chest feel tight.Outside the window, winter sunlight bounced off a hard frost and the light blanket of snow covering the fields, the sky a depthless gray promising the storm the weather-sensitives had been muttering about.The light was good for her.
Hell, any light’s good for her.She’d even look good dipped in mud.
“He’s been tearing his hair out without you.”She shook her hair down from the messy knot.“How about I bring you some lunch?”
“Hey.”He caught her wrist as she moved past him.Immediately, his skin ran with an even sharper awareness of her.“I don’t want to talk to Henderson; I want to talk to you.”
She went still, her extraordinary eyes wide and fixed on him.“Justin.”Just the one word.Then she blinked.“Did you tell me your name?”
He shrugged.I don’t care, angel.“Call me what you like.”He made sure his fingers were gentle, controlled the impulse to pull on her arm and tumble her onto his lap.I’ve been a fucking saint, I deserve it.What do you say, God?I deservesomething, don’t I?
The instant he thought it, he wanted to curse.He didn’t deserve a goddamn thing.
Rowan sank down slowly until she was crouched next to his chair, her wrist in his hand.“What’s wrong?”she asked, the shiny tear-track on her cheek mocking him.
“Nothing.”He lifted her hand and used his other fingers to trace a line in her palm.His calluses scraped against her softer skin.He touched her sensitive fingertips, the hollow of her palm.Her eyes half-lidded, she took a deep shuddering breath.“Forgive me?”
She looked stunned.“For what?”
“I didn’t guess the Sigs would move so fast.I should have.”He let out a long breath.I didn’t even know I was going to say that.
“It’s all right.”Her mouth drew down bitterly at the corners.“I forgive you.”
