“It’s yours by right,” he said. “And I believe you’ve earned it back.”
Leticia took it carefully. “Thank you.”
“Keep it close.” His smile was faint but real. “History has a habit of trying again.”
Gabriel offered his arm. She laid her hand upon it with quiet pride. Together, they walked up the long stone staircase and stepped out into the castle ward. Ahead lay winter sunlight, a paved path, the promise of peace beyond the castle walls.
Gabriel did not remove his arm from around Leticia’s waist until they’d crossed the drawbridge completely, as if he trusted her safety only when the portcullis had lowered behind them.
Beyond the walls lay Barrington’s residence, not far, but far enough that the sharpness in his jaw had time to ease. They took the gravel path slowly. His thumb drifted over the back of her gloved hand.
“You planned to throw yourself into the heart of it, even if I hadn’t found you,” he said at last.
“If it meant protecting people I love… yes.” Leticia’s chin lifted. “I am not ashamed of that.”
He stopped walking.
When she turned, he was watching her in a way he hadn’t since the night before the world changed. He wasn’t evaluating risks, norplanning angles, but simply seeing her.
“I was terrified,” he said plainly. The honesty of it tore through the distance between them. “More than in battle. More than when any blade has come for me. Because I…” he drew a sharp breath. “…I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time. And that…I could not have borne.”
Leticia blinked. The brooch in her palm caught the sunlight, warm again at last. She slid it carefully into her reticule and stepped closer, settling her hands at the breast of his coat.
“I chose you,” she whispered. “Not because you are safe. Because I would not choose a life without you.”
His breath left him in a rush. “Letty.”
She half-smiled. “I am not so easily broken, Gabriel.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “No. But I am breakable without you.”
Her fingers curled behind his neck, soft, deep when he groaned against her mouth and gathered her closer as if only blood and bone could keep her there.
When they broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. She kept her hands fisted lightly in his lapels and did not let him move away.
“So,” she said, breathless but steady. “It’s been two weeks. Do you intend to marry me?”
He brushed his thumb across her jaw, reverently. “I intend to marry you before the week is out, if Barrington will lend me a priest.”
A throat cleared discreetly behind them.
They turned to find Kenworth, Barrington’s long-suffering valet, appearing much as though he had been waiting for the proper moment to intrude.
“My lord,” Kenworth said to Gabriel, “Lady Leticia… I hesitate to interrupt, but the cake has arrived. As have the first of the wedding guests. Lord Barrington begs to know if the ceremony is, in fact, to occur as scheduled next week.”
Leticia’s cheeks flushed pink. Gabriel did not release her hand.
“Tell him,” Leticia said, straightening her spine with the poise of a woman who had just defeated a secret society, “that it had better. I have no intention of stopping it this time.”
Kenworth beamed. “Very good, my lady.”
He departed with all the solemnity of a man delivering state secrets to a king.
Gabriel leaned close to Leticia’s ear, his voice a promise and a vow all at once. “Before winter,” he said, “you’ll be mine.”
She turned toward him, eyes bright, lip caught between her teeth in a smile she could no longer hide, and whispered, “Only if you are mine, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
