Chapter Seventeen
R osilee felt a rush of emotion as she followed Blake through the halls of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s Den. His grip was firm, protective, and she was grateful because her heart was still racing from all that had happened. When she first looked down over the balustrade and saw him staring up at her...
Lord, her heart.
He’d come for her.
He’d stormed in and come for her despite distancing himself from her. Despite telling her they had no future—that he was not the man for her. She still couldn’t entirely wrap her mind around what had occurred.
She’s my heart, my everything. And I won’t leave here without her.
Did he truly mean it? Or rather, did that mean he wouldn’t send her away again?
She snuck a glance at him.
No, he would not.
Whatever had happened after she’d left the townhouse had made him have a change of heart. Dear heavens! She wanted to leap into his arms, but behind them, she could hear Reaper’s footsteps following. She resisted the urge to glance back, focusing instead on the breathtaking presence of Blake beside her.
But if it hadn’t been for that man...
Each time she had wanted to tell Mrs. Dove-Lyon her request, Reaper had interrupted her. He hadn’t given her a chance to speak up until the moment Blake had barged in. Which, now, she was rather grateful for. Only now did she truly understand that Mrs. Dove-Lyon did not show mercy!
A rush of brisk air met her the moment they stepped outside, a cleansing balm to the stifling smell of cigar that clung to the club. Blake released his hold on her just long enough to turn toward his horse, which had very efficiently been brought around and was waiting for them with a stable boy. He hoisted her sideways onto the saddle with ease, her skirts bunching awkwardly under her, but there was no time to adjust, except to try to twist mostly forward.
Wait, were they just going to . . .?
He mounted up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, securing her against him. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “Hold on.”
Rosilee gripped his arms, doing just that.
The horse lurched forward, hooves clattering against the uneven cobblestones. The movement jolted her, but she barely registered it. She couldn’t focus on the noise of the streets, the blur of the city around them, or even the narrow alleys they wound through—none of it mattered.
All she could feel was him.
The solid weight of Blake behind her, his body caging her in, his heat bleeding through their clothes. She leaned back, letting herself settle into his chest, and the faint, erratic thump beneath her cheek.
He smelled so good.
She should have felt pure happiness. After all, this was what she had wanted—Blake had come for her, had chosen her. But her thoughts kept circling back to the same question: why now? After he had practically pushed her toward another man, why had he changed his mind? Her heart demanded answers. The pain had burrowed too deeply to go without them.
She turned her head to try to catch a glimpse of his face. “Why did you come?”
His eyes lowered before returning to focus on the path ahead and guiding the horse through a busy crossing. “You left.”
Oh.
“Without a word,” he continued. She felt the rise and fall of his chest against her back. “That terrified me.”
Her gaze returned to the street as well, the clatter of hooves oddly reassuring—just as much as his arms around her. “You pushed me away.” She could practically feel the protest rising up within him. “Did you expect me to stay after saying those things to me?”
“I thought...” He hesitated, lowering his head until his lips brushed her ear, his voice dropping. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong.”
Rosilee’s heart ached at the rawness in his words. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to,” she said softly. “I left because I didn’t want to trap you.”
“You’ve never trapped me.” Blake’s legs shifted against her as he adjusted his grip on the reins, his movements tight, almost uneasy.
“And yet it seems that way. I didn’t want to put you in a cage, Blake. A cage of expectation where you felt obligated to protect me, to rescue me. I thought if I left, we could both be free—free of whatever... this is.”
Blake let out a slow breath, tickling her ears. His arms tightened around her. “You were never a cage, Rosilee,” he said quietly. “If anything, I’ve been the one trapping myself.”
His words took her by surprise, and she turned her head to look at him again. Their eyes met fleetingly, and she caught the sincerity in the depth of those green pools. He didn’t seem to be a man who spoke of his feelings often, not that she’d had many opportunities to test that theory, but Lord, when he did, his words always seemed to pack a heavy blow to her heart.
Lord, she loved him.
Loved him beyond reason.
“It hurt, pushing me away,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Then sighed in her ear. “Stagbourne is a better man than me. He can give you a normal life. A life you deserve.”
“No,” Rosilee denied. “He can’t. Only you can do that. In any event, this situation was never normal, and I never wanted normal to begin with or else I would have married long ago.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” the mutter came and she jabbed her elbow in his stomach, causing him to grunt.
“That is for hurting me.”
A chuckle sounded in her ear, rough and low. “You can hit me as many times as you want, love. I’m a fool, I admit. I can’t let you go. I was foolish to think I could.”
The horse slowed as they neared a quieter street, and Rosilee nestled deeper into him. “You came after me,” she said softly. “That’s all that matters.”
And now with Baston being dealt with by Mrs. Dove-Lyon, they had an opportunity to retrieve her brother, if the duke’s men—who had apparently already been given the task—hadn’t done so already. For the first time in a long time, Rosilee felt truly at peace. The confusion that had plagued her disappeared, replaced by the certainty that Blake had chosen her not out of obligation, and not out of duty, but because he wanted her.
Just her.
And that was all she needed.
Blake drew Beast to a halt in front of their townhouse.
He didn’t move, didn’t want to. Rosilee was his now. After all that had happened, after everything he had almost lost, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go—not yet.
She fit so perfectly against him. She made him feel complete, like the part of him that had always been missing was finally where it belonged. He held her tighter, squeezed her against him, lowering his chin to her shoulder. The scent of her hair filled his lungs, a soft blend of sweetness and the faintest hint of smoke from the Den. God, he didn’t deserve her, but he’d be damned if he ever let her slip away again.
“I was a fool,” he admitted softly. “But I swear to you, love, I will never push you away again. You are the only person who can make me whole. Without you, I am nothing.” She turned her head to look at him. “I love you, Rosilee. I love you to death.”
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, Blake saw the brave girl who had saved him, the face he’d sketched a thousand times. Somewhere along the way, somehow, he had fallen in love with her, or rather the idea of her, only to discover she was so much more than he’d dreamed. A woman who saw his flaws and wanted him anyway.
“I love you, too,” she answered, equally softly. “More than you could ever imagine.
God, my heart.
Blake captured her lips with his. Not kissing her in this moment—he would regret that all his life. He didn’t care that they were in public. It didn’t matter if the papers were filled with gossip. The world could turn upside down on its axis for all he cared.
His already had.
His senses flooded with her—the soft brush of her lips, the slight taste of sweetness lingering from the tea she’d had earlier. She twisted toward him, and her hand slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He shivered when her fingers pushed into his hair.
I don’t have to let her go.
She was his.
He was hers.
And he could touch and kiss her whenever he wanted. Forever. He would no longer have to settle for memories, dreams, and drawing her lovely face. He—
Someone cleared their throat.
Blake furrowed his brows, slowly pulling away from Rosilee to glance over his shoulder, the shallow lines turning into a deep scowl when he spotted his half-brother atop his own horse, staring at them with a sheepish look on his face. The sweetness of the moment shattered like glass.
“What the devil are you doing here?” Blake growled, irritation clawing its way up his throat.
Reaper scratched the back of his head. “I followed you.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Blake snapped. And just what in the blazes was this suspicious half-brother of his really up to? The man had a way of appearing at the worst possible moments, always stirring up trouble.
“He helped me, Blake,” came Rosilee’s soft response.
“He helped you?” Blake repeated, his voice low, incredulous. “How?”
“Well, for one,” she murmured, her gaze turning to his half-brother. “He tried to stop me from entering the Lyon’s Den. He also didn’t give me any time to speak with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, always interrupting me when I tried.”
Reaper crossed his arms, a smirk forming on his lips. “I also sent you the note.”
“Note?” Rosilee murmured. “So that’s how you knew where I’d gone.”
Blake nodded. Still, there was something he didn’t understand. “Why would you help me?”
“Because we’re brothers,” Reaper said simply, sounding unbothered. Almost too unbothered for a man who had thrown himself into Blake’s life without an invitation.
Blake let out a bitter laugh. “Brothers or not, we don’t know each other.”
“Know each other or not, we are brothers,” Reaper countered.
Bloody infuriating man.
“I sent word to our other brothers as well.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you do that?”
Reaper shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. “Because we share blood. Because you needed our help. Oh, and I was the one who informed Baston where to find your lady love. You can thank me with a bottle of French brandy.”
Blake’s face went blank. Thank, my arse! “For what? Causing more trouble? What are you playing at?”
“I’d like to know that, too,” Rosilee murmured.
Blake turned his horse around, facing Reaper head on, arching a brow.
The man gave a dramatic sigh. “What else? I helped you deal with Baston in a manner that clears you of having any blood on your hands. Maxen and the rest will deal with his men and help free the Viscount Leopold.”
“And what do you want in exchange for this help?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? What shite. Men like you always want something.”
Reaper lifted his hands. “No need to be so suspicious. Contrary to what you might believe, like I told you before, I’m here on other business. I happened to cross paths with Baston, then you, and offered aid. That’s all.”
“Because we are brothers,” Blake said flatly. “Why did you follow me here?”
“To receive my thanks.” At Blake’s darkened look he changed his song a bit. “And to inform you that your lady love’s brother, once freed, if he hasn’t been freed already, will be escorted home.”
Blake wanted to argue with the man, wanted to tell him that blood didn’t make them family—that Reaper had no right to meddle in his life, in Rosilee’s life. But the words stuck in his throat. There was something disarming about Reaper’s quiet confidence, about the way he spoke of family as if it meant something real. Something true.
Blake had never had that.
Not with his father, not with anyone. Bishop had come the closest, and Rosilee was the very definition of home, family. But he’d only just truly found her.
“My brother is saved?” Rosilee asked Reaper.
The man nodded. “Should be. I haven’t heard from Maxen, but that is a good sign, not a bad one.”
“I had everything under control,” Blake muttered.
Reaper grinned. “You had your eyes only on your lady. Not that I blame you, she is quite pretty.”
“Keep your eyes off her.”
“How can I, when you can’t even manage?”
Rosilee suddenly laughed, giving Blake pause. “He does have a point,” she said lightly. “I fear I suffer from the same affliction as you. I find myself unable to stop gazing at the one I love.”
Blake’s eyes flicked to Rosilee and stayed there. “That might become a problem, if we both suffer from this affliction.”
She smiled. “I don’t think so. It might just be thrilling.”
“I don’t think I can survive more thrill,” he said. “Should we return to your home?”
She nodded. “But tomorrow. Let’s not go anywhere else today.”
God, yes.
Blake dismounted and—ignoring his half-brother—lifted Rosilee into his arms, carrying her back to the house. The man had said he only had eyes for Rosilee.
It was the truth.
Don’t blame him for being impolite.
He wasn’t taking his eyes off her for the rest of the day—and night.
For the rest of their lives.