He let her go and sat back, cold and drained and aching. The chilly mist drifted down around them, sinking like midnight into his bones. His arm hurt, and his heart felt like an open wound in his chest. He stared at the crushed grass beneath his knees.
Please—spare me that, he thought, and wondered what would happen to him if she didn't. He couldn't go back now to the numb denial; he'd put himself in the open with no way to retreat. He was too tired to move; if she turned away from him, he would just give up. He would sit here on his knees with the rain and the gray mist and the sky and never get up again.
He gazed up into the low clouds above him, pale gray between the black towers, his hands locked gently together, resting between his legs. With clean rain and salty tears sliding down his temples he waited for his fate.
A long time passed.
A long, long time.
He felt himself vanishing, fading away like the mist that drifted over the gargoyles and monsters carved on his father's house.
And then something touched him: a soft touch on his hand, and then on his face. He turned toward her, trying to swallow down the emotion. She came into his arms. He couldn't speak; he knelt on the ground and held her against him.
"Sheridan." Her lips were trembling, her voice a feeble breath next to his ear. "My terrible lonely wolf." Her arms tightened, and he could feel the wetness on her face against his throat.
He stroked her hair with shaking hands.
"I'm here," she said into his shoulder. "I'm here, and I love you. I love you no matter what."
Biography
* * *
Laura Kinsale
Laura Kinsale, a former petroleum engineer, is the New York Times bestselling author of THE SHADOW AND THE STAR, SEIZE THE FIRE, THE PRINCE OF MIDNIGHT, FLOWERS FROM THE STORM, FOR MY LADY'S HEART, and THE DREAM HUNTER. She and her husband divide their time Santa Fe and Dallas.
Laura Kinsale, Seize the Fire
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