Page 52 of Dagger’s Shield

“Oui,” she whispered, leaving her hand where it was.

When Madame Nolette brought the check, I put down enough money to cover our dinner three times over. Maëlle’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to argue.

“She fed the woman I love when she was a girl,” I said. “I’m settling a debt, not paying for a meal.”

She closed her mouth. She didn’t correct the word I’d used, either. Had she not heard me? Was she choosing to ignore it, believing it was a slip?

The air was cold, and Maëlle was quiet on the walk to the cottage. Her arm was through mine, but it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted to pull her under one of the streetlamps and promise her I’d fix all of it—her mother’s illness, and whatever her father had done. Except I couldn’t. So I shortened my stride to match hers, kept my mouth shut, and hated every person who’d ever taught her to keep her pain to herself.

When we walked in the door, it didn’t feel any warmer inside than it had out. The fire had burned down to coals, and I knelt at the hearth to stoke it, mostly because I needed something to do with my hands. When I finished and stood, Maëlle hadn’t moved from the middle of the room. Her coat was still on, and her chin was up.

“We should think about heading back. Your family⁠—”

“No.”

I stood and approached her. “No?”

“I’m not ready to return to Valais.”

“Why not?”

She crossed the room, wound her arms around my neck, rose up on her toes, but stopped when her mouth was still an inch from mine.

God help me, I wanted that kiss more than I’d wanted anything in my life, but I leaned away from it anyway. “Maëlle⁠—”

“You said if you ever touched me again, it would be for one reason only. That I would beg.” Her arms stayed where they were. “I’m begging.”

I’d imagined her saying those words for more than a year. Hearing them made me hard in about a second.

“I said that in anger. It was a rotten thing to say, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“I don’t care.”

“But I do. You’re upset about your mother, and rightfully so. If we do this tonight, tomorrow you’ll wake up convinced I took advantage of you.”

“Is that what you think this is?” She stepped away from me, and I braced for her to walk out.

She didn’t.

“I can’t give you the speech you’re waiting for, Dagger. I don’t know what this is. What I do know is that being sensible has gotten me nothing except distance from everyone I love. Tonight, I’m finished being sensible.” She raised her chin. “Don’t ask me for more than that.”

When she reached behind her for the zipper of her dress, I crossed the room and covered her hand with mine before she could lower it.

“Don’t.” The word cost me more than she would ever know.

Her eyes flashed. “You want me. Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I want you so badly I can hardly breathe. That’s never been the question.” I cupped her face. “Ask me on an ordinary day, Maëlle. A day when the ground isn’t caving in underneath you. Ask me then, and God help you, because I will never let you go. But I won’t take you to bed tonight so you can wake up tomorrow hating both of us.”

“Unbelievable.” Her voice shook. “The great Dagger Curran, and the one woman he refuses⁠—”

“Is the only one who has ever mattered.”

She tried to turn away from me. I didn’t let her. “We should return to Valais,” she said.

“No. We’re not going anywhere.”

Her brow furrowed. “You said⁠—”