Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(49)
Now it was my turn to go very still.
Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it. I watched a range of emotions play out across his features—he was too rattled to bother with masking them or adopting that cool exterior. Or maybe he didn’t choose to do so in front of me and his sister. We were the only two people in the entire world he could be himself around. He nibbled on his thumb.
“It’s not ideal by any means,” he said at last. “And I’d much prefer to gouge an eye out with a rusty spoon, but it might be the only way for us all to live as we choose. I’d gift you with the Bucharest house; you’d never permit Miss Whitehall to enter.”
“I’d be more than happy to uphold that bargain.”
Both Cresswell siblings looked at me, brows raised. I stared at each of them, taking careful pains to mind my tone. Their matching expressions of hope were going to be hard to break. I glanced at my ruined wedding dress. The smeared
ink looked like dried blood and seemed to portend a promising future that died a violent death. “You’d have me as your mistress, then?”
Thomas blanched. “Not—n-not in my heart. You’ll forever remain—”
My look silenced him. Strange, considering I hadn’t meant it to. My tenuous grip on my emotions was slipping; I needed to try harder to replace my own mask.
“I’ll forever remain a blight in society. Not that I particularly care what others think, but what about my family?” I asked quietly. “What of my father? Or Uncle? And especially Liza? Will my stain of bedding a married man leach out and dirty her prospects? Should I condemn her to a life of scorn as well?” I shook my head sadly. “I might not care what the world whispers behind my back, but how could I forsake everyone I love?” I pushed myself off the bed, moving unsteadily toward him, pausing as he got to his feet, eyes glistening. I could see he knew I was right, though he loathed it. “The reason you have to marry Miss Whitehall is the very same reason I must decline your offer. No matter how much I wish not to. I cannot curse my family any more than you can curse yours.
I am many things, but to be that selfish? It’s inconceivable.”
A tear slipped down his cheek. I reached up, brushing it away first with my hand, then with a kiss. He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair, my neck, his breath warm and ragged on my flesh. He whispered his deepest fear. “Do you not love me?”
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, trying to memorize how good his body felt so near mine. The coffee and sugar and cinnamon scent that was so Thomas. These were only a few of the things I’d miss terribly once they were gone. But they must be cut away, sliced like a tumor before it could grow.
Though it killed me, I had to push him away. For both of our sakes. If not, we’d both travel down a path of hurting the ones we loved. I would not let him turn into a devil, no more than I’d allow my own darkness to take control.
“I will love you until the world stops spinning or my heart ceases to beat, Thomas Cresswell. Even then I’m not sure my love will ever be content to leave you. But I won’t ever share a bed with someone who belongs to another. No matter how much I long to. Please do not ask that of me.”
I heard the rustling of skirts—a reminder that Daciana was still present—and went to pull out of his embrace. Thomas held fast, unwilling to have this moment end.
“I’ll leave you two.” Daciana’s footsteps moved across the room, pausing. “If you need me, Audrey Rose, please don’t hesitate to find me. No matter what
time.”
The soft click of the door indicated we were alone again. Together in our shared misery. Thomas’s tears dampened the collar of my robe, causing tiny goose bumps to rise with each of his unsteady exhalations.
His hand moved from my waist to my hair, knotting itself in a most pleasant manner. He kept it there, not quite pulling my head back, but his meaning was clear. He was asking for us to spend the night together, wrapped in a cocoon of covers and a tangle of limbs. He wished to pour our worries into kisses and caresses, pushing them away for tomorrow. Putting off the inevitable, when we’d have to say good-bye to our romance.
He was pretending no one had invaded our world and flipped it upside down.
I wanted nothing more than to join him in his fantasy. To go to bed and wake up as if today had never happened. It would be so easy, returning to how we used to be. I curled my fingers around his collar, fighting what felt natural. It was hard to recall that only a few hours had passed since we’d laughed and kissed in this very bed. Back when our world was blissfully simple.
All I had to do was lift my chin and his lips would be on mine, claiming me as I’d claimed him. I wanted it. More than anything. I wanted to hold him and feel safe in our embrace—sheltered from the outside world and each invasion that threatened to wrest us apart. But it would only make our separation harder, and it was already unbearable. Because no matter how much I wished for it to be different, we must separate. The thought was enough to have me dig my fingers into his suit jacket. Imagining my world without his crooked smile and his sweet kisses… I buried my head against him.
We’d forever be bound—through our work and Uncle—and sharing any more of myself would tear my soul out. I wanted him, but I needed to take care of myself. I brought my palm to his chest, resting it against his heart for a few precious beats, imagining the tattoo there, then pushed myself away. I swallowed my own tears, relieved in a sense that I’d cried so hard earlier. It seemed I was finally empty now. Thomas made to reach for me again, his own tears only just beginning, but I stepped back, shaking my head.