Talk Sweetly to Me (Brothers Sinister #4.5)

“Quickly,” she told him, “while nobody’s about.”


She accompanied him. Maybe she needed to make sure he arrived safely; maybe it was because he seemed strangely subdued, and she feared he’d not think properly. He unlocked his own door and then looked down at her.

“You were right,” he said. “I didn’t understand how difficult things might be for you—not until just now at the very end.”

The fear she’d been trying not to feel washed through Rose. He’d stopped her from making a declaration. Of course he had; he’d seen what Chillingsworth had said and done, had understood all the indignities she’d face, small and large. And of course he’d changed his mind. She stared up at him, stricken.

“The Irish are accounted violent drunkards,” he said. “Gamblers with no sense of responsibility, and terrible human beings, through and through. But at least we’re considered human beings.”

Rose would not let her heart break. Not here, not in the snow, not with her sister’s new child next door. She would stand here and look him in the eyes. She would…

She choked and looked down.

“But there’s something you don’t understand,” he said. “When I said I loved you, I didn’t mean that I would walk away when I realized your life was difficult. The fact that I understand how hard things can be means that I want to stand by you sooner, and try even harder to make it better.”

She could scarcely believe it. She lifted her face to his, her heart pounding.

And then he smiled at her, and all her fears took flight.

“I love you,” he said. “Let me buy you telescopes and kiss you half the night. And when things grow difficult, let me be make them a little easier.”

She looked up at him. She felt dazed, utterly worn out. And so she said the first thing that came to her mind, which happened to be…

“Did you know that Dr. Maro in Italy has calculated the likelihood that the earth will be struck by an asteroid at two hundred and fifty million to one?”

He blinked. “No. I did not know that. Is it…relevant?”

“Yes,” she heard herself say. And then she reached out and opened his door, and before her nerve left her, she stepped inside.

He followed her, scratching his head in bemusement.

“Yes,” she told him. “It’s very relevant. You see, it’s one hundred and sixty times more likely that the earth will be struck by an asteroid than that you will seduce me. And yet…” She swallowed, looking up at him. “I find myself seduced. Utterly. The only explanation is that we are all about to perish.”

He looked down at her, his breath hissing out. “Rose. Darling.”

“And since we are going to die anyway…” Her throat felt dry. “Would you…take me to bed?”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. His eyes were dark; a light danced in them. He leaned over her and drew one finger down her cheek.

“Rose,” he said. “I have just one question.”

She nodded.

“Does probability really work like that?”

Her cheeks burned and she ducked her head. “No,” she moaned, feeling rather ashamed. “It doesn’t. I’m sorry—I was going to tell you afterward. And I know that doing such a thing under false pretenses…” She let out a little laugh. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But I love you, and…and… I think that if we are to do this, I must learn to be a little outrageous.” She swallowed. “And in a few hours my parents will be here, and once we’re engaged, it’ll be four months before we’ll be left alone, and—”

“Four months! No, never mind that for now. Rose, did you just lie to me about mathematics to get me into bed?” He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so flattered.” He took her hand. His fingers were warm against hers, and her whole body thrilled at his touch. “Come, Rose.”

She followed him up the stairs.

His bed was solid wood, heaped with a quilt of shifting greens. He stopped on the threshold of his room. “Are you sure, Rose?”

Her heart was pounding. “I’m sure.”

She wasn’t sure what to expect. But he didn’t pounce on her immediately. He didn’t take off her clothing. Instead, he turned her to him, set his finger under her chin, and he kissed her.

It was a sweet, intense sort of kiss—soothing in it’s own way. And yet his hand crept around her. His fingers touched the back of her neck. Her skin felt sensitive all over.

“Hullo, there, Rose,” he murmured against her lips.

She smiled and tilted her head back. “Stephen. I love you.”

“Ah, good.”