Rosemary and Rue

“I had to.”


“What’s it going to cost me?”

“It’s a gift.”

“A gift.”

Hearing the disbelief in my tone, Devin frowned. “Yes, a gift. Is that so hard to believe?”

This time, when he kissed me, I resisted less, letting him pull me close before I broke away and said, “You’ve never given away anything in your life. Everything goes on someone’s bill.”

“Things change.” He kissed the side of my jaw. “People change. I’ve changed.”

“That much?”

“Maybe,” he said, and pulled back enough to look at me. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t identify, some weird blend of love and fear and gnawing need. “I thought you were dead, Toby. Do you understand that? Have you fully grasped how close you came? I don’t think you have.”

“Devin . . .”

“You’d almost stopped bleeding by the time they brought you here, because you had no blood left to lose. You were leaving me. You were leaving me again, and this time, you weren’t coming back. There was no way I was letting that happen, Toby. Not if there was something I could do to stop it.” He almost smiled, stroking his fingers down the sides of my face. “I couldn’t let you leave me yet. You just came Home.”

If I’d actually lost that much blood, he was probably right. Nothing short of divine intervention could have saved me. “So you went to the Luidaeg,” I said, again. If I said it enough times, maybe his reply would change.

“I did. And I’d do it again.”

“Devin, I . . .”

“Don’t.” We’d been careful before, both of us aware of my injuries and how poor my condition really was. There was no caution now, as he abandoned all efforts at gentleness, pulled me close, and kissed me hard. When he broke away, he whispered, “Just don’t. You can’t thank me and I wouldn’t let you if you tried, so let’s leave it at this: I won’t let you die. I’m not finished with you. You have something I need too much for that.”

His hands were sliding lower and lower on my sides, now cupping the curve of my hips. I put my own hands over them, and shook my head. “There isn’t time for this, Devin,” I said, regret coloring my voice. “I have to call Sylvester and let him know that I’m all right, and then I need to go. It’s not finished.”

“You don’t need to call Sylvester,” said Devin, with a little smile. “I’m not entirely thoughtless. I called him while you were still recovering.”

I blinked. “You did?”

“Yes. Which he promptly rewarded by accusing me of being the one who got you injured in the first place.” Devin’s smile turned wry. “He doesn’t care for me much, does he?”

That sounded like Sylvester. I relaxed, shrugging. “He thinks you’ll lure me away from him.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “And will I?”

“The possibility exists. For now . . . where, exactly, are my clothes?”

“Your closet? That seems like a reasonable location.”

“You brought me here without bringing anything for me to wear?”

“The kids were a little too busy keeping you alive to stop for dainties, Toby. Besides, that nightgown looks good on you.”

“It makes me look like an underpaid hooker.”

Smirking, Devin said, “Well, as I was saying . . .”

“Devin!” I stepped backward, out of his hands, and shook my head. “Is there anything else I can wear? I’m not going out dressed like this.”

“As I’ve failed to convince you not to go out at all, I suppose I’ll have to provide assistance.” Devin walked over to his desk, pressing the button for the intercom. “Dare, get Ms. Daye’s things and bring them to my office.” He looked back to me as he released the button. “I’m afraid that puts an end to our privacy. She’ll be here quickly. Kids are always in such a hurry.”

“Well, you do teach us that we should never slow down if we can help it.”