She made a sound of disgust.
Perversely, he found comfort in her reaction. “My target was having a house party—”
“You were going to sneak in and kill a man during a house party?”
“No, I wanted a lay of the building—the rooms, where the staff slept, that sort of thing. I charmed an invitation.”
Later he would sneak in and kill him.
“It was night. The guests were drinking champagne in the ballroom.” Bought, he remembered, at the cost of four good lives. “I checked on the children, saw they were asleep, the governess next, and then the tutor.” His jaw clenched. “He was awake still, at his desk, his door open.” The sickness and anger had boiled up in him and spilled over. “He hadn’t seen me. I could have walked away, come back, and completed my mission.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t.” He thought of the sleeping children. And he remembered that hard, dark shelf. “I killed him. I compromised the mission for personal revenge and walked away.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t suppose I want to know how.”
He’d slit his throat in one long, clean slice. “No.”
“Are you sorry for it?”
“Not as sorry as I should be.”
“You condemn yourself for this,” she said softly. “Do you look for me to condemn you, as well?”
“I—”
“Because I’ll not. I’ll not offer condemnation for doing what you thought was right.” She lifted a hand to his face. “I love you. The man you are today and the man I think you will be in time to come. I can’t offer anything but that.”
It was enough. It was more than enough. It was his every dream come true. “You’ll not regret this. I swear to you—”
“A moment, if you please.” She held up her hand. “There is still the matter of my needing keeping.”
He winced. “I apologized for that.”
“In a roundabout sort of way,” she allowed. “And I accept that apology. But how am I to know it won’t happen again? How—”
He’d known she would ask. “When do you next go to meet a woman in Benton?”
She started at that non sequitur. “What? Why?”
“I would prefer…I would much prefer you allow me to be a part of what you do. But…” He steeled himself for what he was about to offer. “If you ask it of me, I will give you my word that I will not follow, defend, or assist you in any way.”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You told me once before that I wasn’t to trust your word.”
He hadn’t a sound argument against that, but he tried to find one anyway. “I wanted to push—”
“That will have to change once you’re a member of the Cole family.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Coles keep their words. As my husband, you will be expected to—”
She cut off when he laughed and stepped forward to sweep her off the settee and into his arms.
“Your wound,” she gasped.
“It’s fine.” He hadn’t thought of it in days. “You’re in earnest? You’ll marry me?”
“Are you in earnest? Do you love me? Because—”
“I’ve loved you for eight years.”
“—that’s all I needed to…Eight?”
“I’ve loved you since the first time I heard you laugh.”
“Oh…well…” She gave a perfunctory smile. “That’s nice.”
His mouth quirked with amusement. “But?”
“It’s nothing. It’s only…it’s only that…I wouldn’t have minded if you’d fallen in love at the first sight of me…fallen in love with the way I look.”
“Ah, well, I didn’t.” He bent his head slowly to hers. “I fell into lust.”
Her mouth curved into a smile right before he took it in a long, lingering kiss.
There it was, lemons and mint. He followed the taste of it across her jaw.
Her voice sounded tremulously in his ear. “McAlistair?”
He caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth, making her gasp. “Hmm?”
“I…” She sighed heavily as he trailed hot kisses down the side of her neck. “I…the wedding. About the wedding…” She sighed again. “The vows.”
He brushed his lips across her collarbone. “Yes?”
“I’ll promise to always love you. And—” His tongue darted out to taste the hollow at the base of her neck. “Oh, my.”
“Always love me,” he prompted.
“Yes, and…and always honor you.”
“Mm-hm.”
“And obey you on those occasions when I am in agreement with—”
Evie broke off at the hard puff of breath against her neck. McAlistair’s shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. “Evie. Sweetheart.” He lifted his head and took her face in his hands. “It would be my great misfortune to be saddled with a gentle, delicate, naive wife. Just give me the promise of love.”
She grinned, lifted her hands to frame his face in turn, and pressed her lips to his. “You have it.”