“Come home with me.” He brushed his mouth against her temple. “I’m not the sort of man who picks daisies, but you’ll have my loyalty and my love.”
A breathless sound escaped her, half-laugh, half-sigh. “You’re precisely the sort of man who’d pick me daisies. But we can’t think about the future until we deal with the past.”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “The past could ruin us.”
“No, the truth will save us.” She eased out of his arms and showed him the ring in her palm. “If you don’t avenge your mother now, it will come back to haunt you.”
The thought struck like cold steel. Losing her would be worse than leaving his mother unavenged. He had endured a decade of secrets. He’d not endure another day without her.
The tenderness gave way to purpose.
“You search Mr Irving’s properties for the clerk. I’ll arrange to meet my aunt and see if she remembers my uncle acting as mediator.”
Fear prickled the back of his neck. He would leave nothing to chance. “I’ll need the name of the coffeehouse and the time you’re meeting her. Use my carriage.” The creak of the boards on the landing had him glancing at the chamber door. “I should go before Charlotte lets her butler off the leash. You’ll send the details to Mivart’s Hotel?”
Every instinct said to forbid it.
But she’d not be kept in a cage.
“You’ll know exactly when and where I’m meeting her.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. He couldn’t leave without kissing her again. Not when every moment might be their last.
He cradled her throat and swept his thumb over her lower lip. There was no need to ask permission. She met him halfway, their mouths colliding in a soft, breathless blur of heat and desperation.
He kissed her as though committing the feel of her to memory, so deep it drowned every thought in his head.
“Get dressed,” he said, his body so hard it pained him. “Come with me to the hotel.”
Her palms flattened against his chest, fingers curling in the fabric as though she might pull him back for another kiss. “One moment,” she breathed. “Let me speak to Charlotte.”
The room felt wrong without her. Last night he’d sat in his throne-like chair at Shadowmere, lust and laughter filling the house, and felt nothing but the absence of one woman.
His woman.
She loved him. She’d said so. And still he couldn’t believe it. After years spent wielding power, he had no defence against something he couldn’t control. Love was a door left unlocked. Happiness a thing that could be taken. He’d not survive another decade kneeling at a graveside.
Perhaps when Templeton had confessed and Harland’s killer was caught, he might have faith. When the past was buried, he might think to the future. For now, these moments with her were all he had.
Daphne returned and closed the door gently behind her, as if she feared waking the house. Her smile confirmed they were leaving.
Beneath the glow of the lamp, he could see the flare of her hips through the thin cotton nightgown. He’d seen the swell of her breasts but not their fullness, not the rosy peaks grazing the material now.
The desire to peel it off her was almost unbearable.
“You’ll come to Mivart’s?” he asked.
“Charlotte thinks I shouldn’t be seen entering a hotel.”
Sod Charlotte.
“We stayed at the Carroway and spent the night at Mrs Flavell’s.” A place no more respectable than a bordello.
She closed the gap between them. “Charlotte said you can stay the night here.” Slipping her hands beneath his coat, she pushed it off his shoulders.
“In the guest room?”
“In bed with me.”
