“What?” he said.
“You.” She licked her lips, her brain repeating his words over and over, unable to stop her heart from beating wildly. “You called me an idiot.”
“You deserved it.”
She gazed up into his face, seeing the softness in his expression as he gazed back. He’d come for her. “You love me.”
“More than anything.”
“But—” Why? How?
“After everything, you doubt me?”
“No.” She doubted herself. He’d gone to the Pony, believing someone there knew about his past secrets. “You went to Madam’s?” That was how Nic had lured him to the Pony. There hadn’t been a peep of claims or interest since she’d shown her face back in St. Giles. Ren had told Madam about his past to buy off the creditors, she was sure of it. “You told her to pay off the remaining balance. You really do love me.”
He lifted her chin with his knuckle, his eyes dancing with amusement and exasperation. “For a woman who remembers everything, you don’t listen well. I’ve been confessing my feelings practically since I met you.”
“That’s not fair,” she said. “Men say poetic nonsense all the time. How was I to know you meant a word of it?”
He huffed. “I baked you tarts, woman! What else do you want? A sign? A carriage? I’ll buy you ten of everything.” He held her close. “I see it’s going to take a lifetime to get through that stubborn head of yours.” He smiled. “Rely on me, trust me. You take care of everyone else. Let me take care of you for a change. And one day, you’ll learn to love me back.”
Her heart soared. Her husband, her friend and partner, loved her, wanted her, believed in her. Against all of fate’s tests and the machinations of a sadistic killer, they were here, together.
She slipped her hands into his, the last traces of doubt and fear slipping away. “Renard, I do love you. I’ve loved you since the alley.”
Renard’s startled expression broke into a smile that took up his entire face. “You love me—”
The tavern door opened.
They whirled together.
Camille snatched the letter opener out of her skirts and held it at the ready.
Syd strolled in. Her whistling cut off abruptly upon seeing their intertwined fingers and the weapon in Camille’s hand.
She could only imagine the image they posed, the intimacy as they stood side by side, covered in blood.
Syd grimaced. “Guess I should have knocked.”
Camille put down the knife but kept Renard’s hand firmly in her own. She asked, even though they all knew the answer. “Any sign of him?”
Syd shook her head. “We’ll check the banks after the next storm to see if any bodies show up.”
Camille wouldn’t dare to hope. “You think he’s dead?”
Syd shrugged. “If the current doesn’t do him in, the sickness in the water will.” She ran a finger down her cheek. “I imagine those cuts on his face will turn to sepsis being in all that filth.I’d say I’m proud, Cam, but I wanted to be the one to send the bastard to a painful grave.”
Camille squeezed Renard’s hand before releasing it—letting him know she’d heard what he’d said and would give him her answer when they were alone—and flung her arms around her friend.
“I know I owe you apology after apology and you’re probably still irked with me for leaving, but I’m so glad you’re all right.”
Syd squealed. “Ew, you smell awful. Wash before you hug people.” Her easy laughter after everything that had happened sounded like music from the heavens. “You could rival Scarlet with the dramatics.”
Camille pulled back and took a moment to search her friend’s face, seeing the changes and maturity.
“Got something on my face?” Syd teased.
Camille smiled. Knowing the words ‘you’ve grown up’ wouldn’t go well, she settled for a safer, “You called for backup this time.”
