“And why is that?” Jasmine asked innocently.
“He’s depraved. He likes to play with women, and that’s putting it lightly. A delicate flower like you will be eaten alive.”
Depraved? Delicate flower?!
Jasmine laughed. “Lady Ravenshaw, you don’t know me at all.”
“And you don’t knowMatthew,” Lady Ravenshaw hissed.
“I know Matthew better than you do. He’s a good man.”
Lady Ravenshaw gave a bitter laugh. “A good man might have disarmed an assailant, rather than taking his life.”
Sick of hearing it, Jasmine straightened her spine. She formed her hands into fists, ignoring the pain.
“Matthew did what he had to.”
“Yes, that is the rhetoric. Have you seen him shoot?” Lady Ravenshaw scoffed. “Of course you have—he showsallof his exploits that trick. Be smart. With his aim, he could have handled that situation much differently. He killed him because he wanted to.”
“It was pitch black—”
“Why would that matter to a man who can shoot blindfolded?”
Lady Ravenshaw might have seen Matthew shoot, but not likeJasmine had. If she had seen him with a pistol in his hand, shaking, blind, and scared for his family, she would know what Jasmine did.
And maybe Lady Ravenshaw knew Matthew differently, but nobody truly knew him. He hid bits and pieces of himself from others. In one evening, she saw him capable of cruelty, conquest, and ruthlessness. But also comfort, care, and protection. His hands may be bloodstained, but they held her with love. When he was defeated, he rose up.
And he defended his family.
“You’re wrong.” Jasmine held her chin high and strode away. Before she reached for the door, she spoke over her shoulder. “And by the way, Lady Ravenshaw, the next time you strike my fiancé, I’ll return the favor.”
Jasmine exited the room, allowing the door to close behind her with asnapthat shook the hinges. If Lady Ravenshaw intended to scare her away—she failed.
For once, Jasmine knewexactlywhat she wanted. Reentering the ballroom, she made a beeline for Matthew. His eyes widened, and a gasp left him when—without a word—Jasmine grabbed his arm and led him to the middle.
Right in front of everyone.
The back of his neck turned red. He laughed and gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s good to see you too.”
The candles above dimmed as they neared the end of their wicks, casting a faint glow over the two of them. As they eased into movement, the rest of the ballroom faded. Matthew led her with his fingertips. As if returning to her after a long day’s work, his face shifted into a lazy, tender smile. They worked tirelessly this evening, and she wanted him to hold her.
Surely, she must love him now.
What else would explain her heart racing at the thought of him? Thisdesire to fight the world for him? Or the slow crawl of time when they were apart? Every moment with him felt like stepping off a cliff, and she didn’t know if she was on the rocks, in the ocean, or somewhere in the middle. She wanted to wait at home for him, tobelievein him…
Because, by God, Matthew Cooper neededsomeoneto believe in him.
She waited until his eyes were on hers, and because she knew he needed to hear it, “I want to marry you, Matthew.Onlyyou.”
His hold on her tightened only slightly. His lips parted, and he almost tripped on his next step, but she righted their movements.
“I want that too,” he whispered back.
“Then let’s stopfightingthis. Whatever this is between us,” she said, as much to herself as to him. “I’ll be yours, you’ll be mine, and we’ll figure the rest out along the way.”
“Jasmine, I’ll always be yours,” he promised.
He brought her a fraction closer, and she wanted to melt into him. Time escaped them, and she tried to be here, in the moment with him. A man she should have marriedyearsago, had she not been so blind. But her eyes were open now, and she saw the full picture of Matthew Cooper.
