“I have returned many times, Ester, but Clancy won’t let me past the door. You haven’t returned a single note.”
“Notes?” She shook her head. “I haven’t received any.”
“I sent Jonesy. I know he wouldn’t deceive me.”
His voice sounded accusatory, as if she had, but only one person hadn’t been truthful. “Clancy must be trying to protect me, sort of like you, omitting everything to protect me.”
“It’s not the same. He doesn’t love you like I do, and he’s never lost everything. At least, I hope that’s not his plight. I did want to protect you, and I still am. I’ve let the dogs have at me, to keep the Croome name out of the papers. There’ve been only a few lines about the warehouse fire. Nothing at all about our marriage.”
“Bex, I look every day for a cartoon or interview about you. I’ve seen the horrible articles.”
He put his arms on her shoulders. “I’ve sacrificed my privacy for you and the Croomes. It was the least I could do. I want no more harm to touch you. Just me.”
His fingers sent a jolt through her limbs. His palms were warm, and she wanted so badly to go back to the night they’d loved each other.
But there was no going back, not for her. She couldn’t trust her heart. “Why are you here, Bex?”
“It’s after midnight. Our marriage still exists. No legal papers have come, Ester.” He brushed a curl of her unbraided hair about his thumb. “I hoped that was a small sign you’d reconsidered. Perhaps you could love me again.”
His eyes, hungry and hurt, stole what air she could breathe. He was too close, towering over her.
“Ester, I know we didn’t start this marriage right. I should’ve told you everything. But do you know what it has been like to live in fear that I will say the wrong thing to the wrong person and then be judged to be just like my uncle. I’m still paying for his crimes.”
“You know how I live, Bex. I know the fear of saying the wrong thing, but I know more the fear of hoping my loved one comes home. I want to be safe. I want you safe. We can’t work.”
“But we’ve found each other, Ester. Can you deny the love that is between us?” He took her palm and placed it against his chest, smoothing it against his leather vest. “I can’t sleep without reaching for you. I don’t want us to end.”
He took the candle from her icy fingers and put it on the sill. “I love you, Ester. Love should conquer all. You’re my heart’s dearest love.”
Oh, no he didn’t… Coming here, looking dreamy, twisting up lines of Shakespeare to confuse her—she could do that, too. “Bex-Bexeley? This love is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden. It had no choice to be like lightning, to be a flash then cease to be.”
His brow popped above a dark, cobalt-blue gaze. “Why do you want to leave me so unsatisfied?”
She wasn’t about to ask, as Juliet would, what satisfaction he wanted, not with him standing so near, so touchable, so desiring of another chance. Ester inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of sandalwood and ivy vines on his person. “Will you give up rallies and danger? And be a man that I can depend upon? That’s the price for my love.”
“That’s a fine price.” He hoisted her high in his arms and kissed her, gently at first, then with an almost ruthless passion that made her cling to him. He was dangerous with two hands, so dangerous.
Clutching at his neck as if nothing in her world was solid or true, she couldn’t help but return his kiss. Maybe she wouldn’t fret this one night, not like she had without him. “I love you, too.”
He scooped her up and made her float in the air. His mouth, so sweet, so set on teasing her lips, never relented. Not a complaint could be uttered, not with his ardor sweeping her away.
With a kiss to her jaw, he settled her on the mattress, his finger dipping into her tresses. “You are beautiful. I’ve missed you. I love my wife.”
Her eyes were wide, anticipating and waiting. “Then commit to me, Bex, and let’s live without danger. No more rallies or burning buildings. Then I’m yours. London knows your secret. We don’t have to hide. We can build again.”
“Is it that easy? I say no rallies, no more fights, and I’ll have a wife who loves me?”
“Yes, Bex. Yes.” She reached up and took his mouth, wrapped her hands about his neck, intending to never let go.
His kiss was deep, soul stirring, tying tighter the bonds between them, but he stopped and stepped away from her embrace, her bed. “No.”
“Bex?”
“It’s Arthur.” Heaving as much as she from their denied passion, he moved to the window. One leg was out the opening before she could sit up.
“Bex, wait.”
“I can’t, Ester. I’m not a couch husband, as you defined it, passive, waiting to be told what to do with my passions.”
