Page 280 of Eight of Swords, Part One

‘Are you?’

‘I’m sorry that you’re upset.’

‘That’s such bullshit.’

‘Blaire.’

‘What? What have you to say, Lachlan? He’s…’ She trails off, shaking her head and then says, quieter, ‘You are many things, but not unintelligent.’

‘That’s up for debate.’

‘Sex complicates everything.’

‘I won’t let it.’

Blaire’s hand is wrapped around the necklace.

He’s terrified she’ll yank it off, break the chain and throw it at him.

‘You’ve already let too much happen.’

‘I love you so much, Blaire. Please.’

Her gaze darkens.

‘It’s not that. You and I walk the knife’s edge, Lachlan. For you to fuck with the balance is reckless, and for it to be selfishly done is hard for me to swallow but swallow I must.’ She looks away. ‘We’ve adjusted before. We will again.’

‘I’m sorry. I…’ He trails off.

‘“I… I…” You what? Hollow apologies and nothing to say. Fucking men,’ she mutters, mouth twisting. ‘Don’t be sorry. Be careful.’

‘You know I will.’

‘I don’t know that.’

‘Yes, you do.’ He steps away, hand in his hair. ‘I know it’s…’ Wrong. Bad. Complicated. ‘Not the best idea, but it’s not like the old man forbade it.’

‘Can you hear yourself?’

‘I’m just saying—’

‘You sound like Fenwick.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Because you decided it. Do you think my concern is Penhalyx? Are you really so blind?’

‘I must be, because yeah, that’s what I think,’ he says quietly.

‘I’m worried about you.’

‘You never need to worry about me.’

‘Well I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I got you...’ She cuts herself off sharply, anger icing over into control so fast it almost looks painful. Blaire always seems furious with herself for feeling things at all, let alone showing them. Staring hard at the wall ahead, she says, quieter now, ‘You’re already far too involved with them. The more people you love, the less your own wellbeing matters to you, I fear.’