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I love you too, Raphael Charles Sinclair.
Rafe didn’t have words for the way that lit him up inside.
For the way the silk of her lips sliding over his revived the failing organ in his chest.
He pulled her closer, wishing he could pull her right into his lap. He cursed his bloody thigh and forearm.
Her tongue slipped over his lips, and he immediately opened for her. He couldn’t get enough of the way she unapologetically asked for what she wanted. Not just asked—no, she went out and seized it. The kiss took on a life of its own, a riot of raging emotions. Tongues lashed with anger and anguish, teeth nipped with frustration and fear. Her fingers gripped him tight in a painful hold, deliberately painful.
“How dare you?” she whispered before falling back into kissing him again. The words were sharp with accusation, with torment. And then her body started to shake. She pulled away, burying herself in his shoulder.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight to his side as best he could with his awkward splint. Hitched, uneven breaths burst over his neck and ear as she clutched him, body rigid and trembling while she fought for the control she always needed to possess. It was what made her feel safe, he realized. The minute she gave up any of it, fear overwhelmed her. She would not be vulnerable. Even with him.
Could he blame her? After their row, he was starting to see where she was coming from. He wanted to be offended that she didn’t trust him, but what had he truly expected? Her to throw away her life for a man she’d known a little over a fortnight? A man who’d been so quick to throw out barbs with the intention of hurting her like he’d been hurt. Fuck, he was the biggest arse known to man. He wouldn’t want to put his life in his own hands either.
Her tremors gradually faded, and he met her swollen, red-rimmed gaze. “How dare you scare me like that, Rafe?” Her beautiful brown eyes were as broken as her whisper.
“It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
A hiccupped laugh burst from her. A small amount of fire bloomed back to life in her gaze. “That makes it all better, does it?”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a smile ghosting at his lips. “I merely mean to say, I’m not to blame. So, I believe that exempts me from your ire.”
She pulled back, eyebrows lifting. “That so?”
“Absolves me entirely.” His heart leaped at the smile that spread her luscious pink lips. He didn’t think anything could possibly compare to her smile.
“The running off without a word was on purpose,” she said pointedly. And it was quite the point. He’d been a coward. A wounded dog running away, tail between his legs.
“You’ve forgiven me for that already, though.”
“I have, have I?”
“Yes, just moments ago. Somewhere before the declaration of love. I’m sure of it.”
She sighed and nestled into his side. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not happy about it. But I understand it.”
He chewed on his cheek. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it?
Because he wasn’t happy that she wouldn’t marry him. But he understood it.
And he had no idea where that left them.
“What happens now?” His question settled around them, hovering like a specter.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly.
He turned toward her and arched a brow. “You don’t know? You—Miss Theodora Dawson, who always has a plan—don’t know?”
Her expression turned flat, and he chuckled.
“Will you stay…” he asked hesitantly. “Here, at Ironcrest House, for a bit?”
She worried her lip. “That doesn’t seem very professional.”
“You barging in on my best mate’s wedding, brandishing a pistol, is hardly professional.”
“You make an excellent point.”
