Unraveled (Turner #3)(99)

Someone else might have blinked an eye at that. But Ash simply shrugged his shoulders. “There,” he said. “You see? I was just saying that I needed to consider more charity.”

IT WAS ALMOST DAWN by the time Smite brought Miranda home—home to the house he’d bought for her. The rooms seemed too quiet to her; the servants, not expecting her to return, were in bed for the evening.

He brought her up to her bedchamber, helped her strip off clothing made sodden and cold. They rubbed each other dry with towels, then slipped into wrappers that should have been warm.

They weren’t.

A fire in the bedchamber upstairs didn’t help. Huddling under the covers brought no warmth. The rain beat against the roof, hard at first, and then more softly. It was only when he drew her to him that Miranda stopped shaking. He pressed his body full-length against hers, and Miranda began to warm.

But even though he stroked her skin, he did not attempt anything so tame as a kiss. It was just warmth they shared: nothing more. He’d not tried anything more since…since that night in the inn. It seemed so long in the past. It was the only time he’d actually spent the night with her.

Through her window, the gray sky tinted first pink, then orange. The rain stopped and the clouds drifted apart, letting through ragged strains of early morning sunlight.

Smite sat up beside her. His gaze focused on some far vista. Just beyond the flotilla of masts on the Floating Harbour she saw a rainbow. It glimmered ephemerally, and then disappeared.

“You know,” Smite said softly beside her, “even in the Bible, there was just that one flood.”

“One seems more than enough.”

He stood. “Mine comes back. It’s a recurrent promise, one that I’ve held to all these years. It wasn’t the flood that drove away every living thing. It was me, afterward.”

She sat very still, but her heart thundered inside her. He turned to her. He seemed so solemn. “I don’t know how to do anything by halves, Miranda.”

He was going to send her away after all. She could scarcely breathe.

“So,” he concluded, “you’re going to have to marry me.”

She choked. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeated.

She stared at him. He sounded perfectly rational. His hair was disordered, true, and he needed to shave. But there was no outward indication that he’d gone mad.

“You can’t marry me,” she said finally. “I’m your mistress. Nobody in polite society will ever see you again.”

He blinked at her for a few moments, and then drew a deep breath. “That possibility had never occurred to me,” he said stiffly. “In that case, I retract my offer. My overcrowded social calendar must be protected at all costs.”

She stifled a grin.

“Give over, Miranda,” he said. “That’s not a serious objection.”

“You still can’t marry me,” she told him. “There’s no need. We can continue on—”

He set his hand over her lips, stopping her words. “I sent you away once.” His fingers trailed down her cheek. “There are some things that cannot be made right by simple apology. It’s not simply marriage I intend. It’s a promise. I will never be without you again.”

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest.

“I was hoping I could avoid the bit in the proposal where I lay out all the advantages of the match to you. There aren’t nearly enough of them. The truth is simply this: you can find a better man than I. God knows you wouldn’t have to look very hard. But I don’t believe you can find one who loves you more.”

She sucked in her breath.

“Love will never magically make me whole. It won’t heal old wounds. But when I’m around you, I do not feel as if I must be alone. I smile when you’re in the room and I laugh when you’re happy. I feel as if I’ve come home to you.” He slid his fingers up her arm, around her back. “There isn’t one part of me that you’ve flinched from. I don’t know why you’d marry me, but I know why I’m desperate for you. Nobody else on earth would bring me to myself as you have.”

“Oh, don’t you know why I love you?”

He turned to her. His hands closed roughly about her wrists. “Say it again.”

“You anchor me without holding me down. You frighten me without threatening my future. You’re unflinchingly devoted. I love you.”

It had been days since he’d so much as kissed her. He made up for that now, with a hard, demanding possession. But his kiss was belied by the soft touch of his hands on her, stroking her arms, then her ribs. His fingers trailed up her sides as he kissed her, sliding up until he cupped her face.

“How will we live? What will we tell people?” she asked.

“I don’t know. As long as it’s with you…” He kissed her again. “If it matters, I can—”

“We,” she corrected. “When it matters, we will find a way.” She gave him a long, slow smile.

He echoed it back at her.

“And we’ll start right here. With this.” She leaned in and slowly, tenderly, kissed his shoulder, and then down his neck.

After a moment, his arms came around her. “Yes,” he murmured, pulling her close and slowly peeling back her wrapper. “This is an excellent place to start.”