"From threatening castration to stolen kisses," she joked.
"From doing everything to avoid going home, to trying to find where in my house my wife is hidden," he said, his mouth softening into a smile.
"Preferably in your bed."
"Preferably," he agreed.
"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered, biting her lip.
"I have an entire network of spies at my behest. There's nothing I enjoy more than secrets."
You might not enjoy this one. Adele closed her eyes. "I love you."
He drew back sharply, the humor fleeing from his eyes. "Don't tempt fate—"
She put a finger to his lips, shaking her head. It was time to be brave. "I know why you don't want me to tell you that. You see it as a burden, as one more weight on your shoulders should I fall."
"Adele—"
"You said it yourself," she whispered. "This is our last chance to be together before we confront him. And I cannot help thinking, what if I don't ever get a chance to say it? I love you, and I'm not afraid to say it. I want to say it."
"It's not a burden," he whispered, cupping her face between his hands. "Never that."
And then he kissed her again.
There was a desperation to his actions; not merely hunger or desire, but something almost frantic.
One hand cupped her bottom, dragging her firmly against him until they were chest to chest, groin to groin.
"You're not going to lose me," Adele promised, the moment he let her come up for air. It haunted every line of him, his hands clinging to her as if he was afraid to let her go, even for an instant. "We are going to defeat Balfour and make him wish he'd never happened upon either of us."
"I just wish he was dead." A shudder ran through him as he stroked his thumb longingly down her side. "I've carried that bastard like a noose around my throat for almost seventeen years. I want to live in a world where his ghost no longer haunts me. I want to...." He clearly sought the right words. "I want to tell my wife how much she means to me."
Those words.
They ricocheted through her like an arrow given flight.
"Does she?" Adele's heart hammered. "Does she mean something to you?"
Malloryn stared down at her, his heart splayed wide in his eyes. And she realized he could not say it. Could not force the words past his lips.
"Everything," he said simply.
Just that.
A word that held so much more in it.
She'd thought him cold, once upon a time, but it was merely a mask. One she recognized, for she'd worn it too. If you didn't let anyone in, then you couldn't be hurt again.
It didn't mean you didn't feel deeply.
It didn't mean you couldn't be hurt.
And it didn't mean you couldn't love somebody, even if you couldn't bring yourself to say it.
"I love you," she whispered, saying the words he couldn't. It set her free in some way. Unfurled something within her that had been so tightly guarded for so long. Adele leaned onto her toes and pressed her lips gently against his. "And I will love you for as long as we both live. I will love you, even if you think you are not worthy of it. I will love you even when you are too afraid to tell me the same."
A shudder tore through him. "Adele."
"I will love you when you push me against bookcases. And throw me over your shoulder." She felt his mouth soften against hers, and eased her tongue against his. A soft, petting caress as she breathed into his mouth, "I will love you when you threaten to lock me away for my own good. And I will even love you when you are being your arrogant best and clearly wrong."
His eyelashes stirred against her cheeks as he drew back, cupping her face with an expression she couldn't name. "And when you throw books at my head?"
"Especially then."
He breathed out a laugh. "I'll consider myself a lucky man as I'm dodging glassware and curses."
"That's the spirit," Adele whispered, and then smiled. She felt the smile blaze within her, lighting her from within. Happy. In this moment, all she knew was happiness.
Malloryn's breath caught in his chest, as if she'd somehow knocked him for six. "You ruin me. You always have. You're like a cannonball that's obliterated every aspect of my life."
"We're going to have to work on your delivery," she said. "You're severely lacking in poetry."
"Adele."
She bit his finger. "I know."
And then he was laughing helplessly, as if her happiness was contagious. He stole another kiss, and the roughness of his hands was a little unsteady on her skin.
This time it was long and slow and deep, holding the promise of everything he wanted to do to her. He pushed her back, toward the bed, and Adele went with a shiver.
"Are you planning to ravish me in the queen's suite?"
"Yes." He captured her mouth again, hands stroking down her sides. "A thousand times, yes."
"Do you—" She gasped. "—think I could wear the crown?"
Malloryn bit her lip sharply, a growl echoing in his throat as she burst into a cascade of laughter.
Reaching down, he slung her up over his shoulder and strode toward the bed. "Why did I ever think you were going to be a cool, biddable bride?"
"I don't know," she replied. "The idea baffles me too."
And then she gave a squeal of laughter as he tossed her onto her back in the middle of the queen's bed and followed her down with a smile.
Chapter 33
The day of the queen's parade arrived.
This was it.
Adele nervously smoothed her borrowed finery into place as Malloryn barked orders and snapped commands.
Tension etched his hard frame as he sent the Rogues scurrying. Gemma saw her watching and rolled her eyes behind his back. Far below them, the carriage was brought out, its gilt edges twinkling in the sunlight, and Adele could hear people chanting the queen's name, the sound floating up to the heights of the tower on the breeze.
"Are you ready?" Malloryn asked, finally turning to her.
No.