Chapter 37
It was late. Only darkness could be seen among the cracks in the heavy velvet drapes, and the few candles in the room guttered as they fought to stay alive.
Emerald’s whole body was sore from disuse. The side where she’d been shot pulsed. A tangle of soft, earth-brown curls tickled her wrist where it lay limp next to her hip. She watched the steady rise and fall of Beau’s back, a little enthralled with the controlled power she knew was coiled in the peaceful body in front of her, the etched muscles of his form, the scars telling their own stories—two halves of a whole.
Her right arm shook as she brought it across her body. The movement of her finger was slow and uncertain, and with breaths uneven from exertion or excitement, she touched one of the thick, mussed locks. It was silky against her skin and coiled around her like it had been waiting for the moment as long as she.
She slid her fingers into his hair, making a slow combing motion and luxuriating in the feel of her hand nestled there. Against the hand upon which he lay, she could feel his low moan of contentment. Back and forth, she raked her fingertips, and when his head tipped, she brushed aside a tendril that had fallen forward. Even in the near-dark, his long curling lashes could not hide the pronounced hallows under his eyes. Her own drifted closed for a faraway second as she imagined a life not yet hers.
When she opened them again, he was watching her. His clear eyes, sober and uncertain, seemed to ask her a question.
‘Are you aware you drool while sleeping?’ Her voice sounded like two sticks rubbing together, but he smiled, pure and bright and so full of happiness she felt her own lips curling upwards.
He retrieved a water glass from the table, tipping it against her lips until she turned her head. ‘How do you feel?’
She tried to lift a shoulder. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘About three days.’
Emerald started, overcome by the sudden awareness she could see every part of him. She knew the answer before she asked the question. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘About three days.’
He was a dear, dear man. ‘You have not gone to bed?’
‘And miss this opportunity?’
Sudden weariness enveloped her, and tears welled in her eyes. ‘I could’ve got you killed.’
‘I almost did get you killed, so on that score you may rest easy,’ he replied, dabbing her cheeks with a piece of clean linen.
‘If I hadn’t gone with him. If I hadn’t run.’
‘If I hadn’t come home. If I hadn’t upset his plans. If I had simply shot him where he stood. No one wins in this game, so let us agree not to play it. You are alive, as am I. What more can matter?’
‘What happened? I don’t recall—’ She sucked in a breath, wishing her tired arms could lift her hands and cover her mouth.
The laughing look in his eyes suggested he knew which memory had just come rushing back, much as her dinner had at the theatre. He asked, his voice vibrating with mirth, ‘Would you rather we go on as if it never happened?’
‘I was sick.’ Had Emerald the energy to pull the covers over her head, she would have.
‘Indeed.’
She groaned and closed her eyes against this beautiful man who had watched her experience her dinner for a second time.
‘Let it be some consolation that you made his arrest even more uncomfortable. He’ll be sitting in those dirty clothes awhile. Maybe even until he’s hanged for treason. And really, it was quite mild compared to much of what I’ve seen in my line of work.’
‘Oh! Yes. Your work. I’ve gathered you’re a spy for the government.’
‘A specialist in espionage, yes. I mentioned something of it at Gunter’s—’ He was running the length of linen through his fingers.
‘You alluded. Called it complicated.’
‘It is. Was.’
What was it he had said? ‘Your hands are not clean.’
There was a long pause, and one of the candles finally died out.
‘No. It is impossible they should be so. I understand if that’s—if that’s unacceptable to you.’
Never before had Emerald considered Beau may feel nervous about how she would perceive his work. She felt she should be bothered but could not manage to be anything more than curious.
‘A lot of men?’
There was no hesitation in his answer. ‘Enough.’
‘Any—any—women?’
She heard the breath in his chest hitch.
‘Inconvenienced?’ he asked, using her word from the day she applied arnica to his eye. ‘Or—or.’
Emerald frowned, confused at first by his own apparent confusion. And then, because she couldn’t resist teasing him, she said, ‘Oh. I was thinking only of the former, but you mentioning the latter I think indicates you’ve flirted, flattered, and seduced to get your way. And now I know from my own experience how capable you are of such things.’
Beau veritably flung himself away from her, his countenance a mix of horror and panic. ‘You cannot think— I would have you know— I never— You are so much more to me?—’
She had done it, fully unravelled the man, but she pocketed her amusement for another time. Taking pity on him, she reached her hand out, accompanied by a cheeky smile.
‘You tease me?’
‘Shocking, I know. What was it you said? What else would you have me do? Cut up at you? Faint away out of maidenly horror? A trifle excessive, do not you think?’
His lips pinched into a tight line, but he couldn’t hide his amusement. She knew him too well for that.
‘There is so much I want to say to you,’ he said, gliding his fingers back and forth over the top of her hand where it rested on the bed covers. ‘Something I so badly wish to ask.’
‘And yet?’
‘And yet tonight, you are still my ward.’
‘But tomorrow?’
He lifted her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘Your birthday.’
‘I’ll reach my majority.’
‘You’ll reach your majority. Take over control. It seems only fair you should. I’ve held your future in my hands. Tomorrow, you will hold mine.’