Page 99 of Rules for Ruin

Gabriel was up from his seat in an instant. He took the empty seat beside her and, without preamble, hauled her onto his lap. He held her there until her arms circled his neck and her body relaxed with a trembling breath. He removed her bonnet and tossed it aside. His hand cradled her head against his shoulder.

He was fully aware of the impropriety of his actions. Not even husbands and wives engaged in this degree of intimacy in public. It was vulgar. Unseemly. But Gabriel cared nothing for social rules at the best of times. And now…Well.

He cared only for her.

“Parents,” he said. “They’re always a disappointment.”

She struggled to contain her tears. “What does her behavior say about me?”

“Not a blasted thing. You’re no different now than when we walked into that cottage. All that’s changed is that you’ve discovered your mother was a heartless tart. There’s no point crying over it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m not. I’m done with weeping.”

“Good,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“How could she—?”

“Because people are mad. Most can’t be trusted with a dog, let alone a child. Yet still they produce them, year after year. Legions of starving, miserable wretches left to roam the streets with no guidance.” His hand moved over her silk-encased back in a reassuring caress. Her bodice was fashionably tight, the hard seams of her corset rigid beneath his palm. “I speak from experience, sweetheart.”

Her breath gradually grew quiet and regular under his ministrations. “You remember your childhood.”

“Regrettably.”

“What do you recall?”

“Hunger,” he said without hesitation.

“Yes,” she agreed. “And not only for food.”

He turned his face against her silken, sweet-smelling hair. Honey and black currants. The fragrance filled his lungs, stirring untold longings within his jaded soul.

“You have no other recollections?” he asked.

“Only impressions. I’d hoped…But I couldn’t remember.” Her voice grew husky with emotion. “I had imagined the feeling of despair came later, but it’s been there all long, hasn’t it?”

Gabriel’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to think of her hungry and despairing. She wasn’t made to suffer. She was made to be adored.

“I don’t know about despair,” he said. “But I know about want. When you start life without, you never lose the emptiness of it. If you’re lucky, you can use it. It keeps you sharp. Helps you survive.”

“Survival isn’t the same as living.”

“No?” He huffed a cynical laugh. “I never had the luxury of the distinction.”

Her arms remained around his neck, her body pliant and trusting against him if only for this fleeting, precious moment. The full skirts of her black silk dress spilled about his legs in a profusion of starched petticoats and wire crinoline.

Mine. The word reverberated through Gabriel’s veins, even as he counseled himself not to hold her too tightly, not to be too precipitous. It was dangerous to reveal the innermost desires of one’s heart. A surefire way to guarantee those desires were left unfulfilled. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to frighten her away.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “After all these years, I thought I’d finally find the place I belonged.”

“You have,” he assured her. “It’s here. Right here, with me.”

So much for not being precipitous.

Her arms loosed from his neck. She slowly pulled back to look at him, hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Her troubled eyes were glistening, but true to her resolve, no tears spilled. “Gabriel—”

“I mean it,” he said. “Nothing else matters.”

Her brows knit. “How can you say that? Aren’t you at all dismayed to discover I’m not who I’ve pretended to be?”