Page 122 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“I cannot bear the thought that you might believe I set your life on a board and moved you as if you were a piece,” he said. “Not for a day. Not for an hour. Not for the space it took you to walk from that room to the garden.”

“You did not ask nothing of me,” she said. “You asked much. You asked me to trust you.”

“I did,” he said. “And I did not say enough in return.”

He lifted one hand. The bruised one. He did not seem to notice that it hurt when he reached toward her. His fingers hovered beside her cheek without touching.

“If you wish to strike me for that,” he said, “now is the time.”

It startled a short sound from her that might have been a laugh.

“I have never wished to strike you,” she said.

He tilted his head.

“No,” he said. “That is not true. There have been moments.”

“All right,” she allowed. “Once or twice. Tonight among them.”

His mouth curled a little.

“I will accept that,” he said.

She looked up at him. The candle painted his features in lines of gold and shadow. She could see tiredness there, and a strain that touched the edges of his composure.

“I would not have done this with any other man,” she said. “Not this plan. Not this risk. Not this walk between what was real and what was show. I trusted you to be where you said you would be. To stand where Hartleigh could carry our signal. To catch him where I could not.”

His hand came closer. His knuckles brushed her cheekbone in a touch so light it barely disturbed the skin.

“And did I hold that trust?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “You did.”

He drew a breath that seemed to go deeper than the ones before it.

“I should tell you something,” he said. “While I still have sense enough to use words.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“I will keep you safe where I can,” he said. “I will stand where you ask me to stand. I will fight when you say fight and wait when you say wait. I will step back when you need space. I will bear more fear than you can see. What I will not do again is take your choice away in the name of protection. Not when it touches us both.”

She felt the words settle into her in a place that had been hollow all evening.

“Good,” she said softly. “That is what I needed.”

He lowered his hand. It rested lightly at her shoulder, fingers against the edge of her cloak.

“I have something to ask in return,” he said.

“What is that,” she asked.

“If you find you must walk away from me again,” he said, “tell me whether you mean it.”

She felt the sting behind her eyes again.

“I did not mean it tonight,” she said. “Not for a breath. Not for a step. Not even when I told you not to follow. I thought I could separate what we planned from what I felt. I was wrong. When I reached the garden I wanted only to come back.”

He swallowed.