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Laurel lowered her head and the tears spilled. She made an impatient gesture, brushed the back of her hand across her cheek and he could stand it no longer.
‘Laurel. My love.’ Giles knelt beside her, dug in his pocket for a handkerchief and began to dry her cheeks.
This was Laurel—the tears stopped immediately and she gave an inelegant, defiant little sniff. ‘Don’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t think when you touch me,’ she said shakily. ‘I need to think. I had worked it all out that all I needed was to trust you this time and it would all be perfect again. I didn’t realise that I needed to understand as well.’
‘Neither did I.’ Giles sat back on his heels to give her distance. Not too far. He was beginning to hope again. ‘It wasn’t you I needed to understand, it was myself. Why I had left the country like that, why I didn’t come back before. Why, when I did, I felt so damn guilty. I am not certain it is all clear now, too much adolescent emotion at the time, too much pride, too much selfishly enjoying myself. I know why I felt guilty about my father and that guilt spilled over into the way I was thinking about you.’
He reached out his hand and she put hers into it, without hesitation. ‘I don’t know why you should believe a word I say,’ he said, holding on to the lifeline of her fingers.
‘I always believe you.’ It was definitely a smile now. A little shaky, a trifle watery, but a smile. ‘I know you never lie to me, I just have to get better at understanding this cunning male skill of avoiding the truth. Cousin Anthony has it, too, now I recall how he told me about Malden.’
‘Laurel, come to bed.’
‘Now?’ The clock struck eleven.
‘Now. I want to make l
ove to you and I have something to give you.’
‘But—’
‘This is part two of the honeymoon. The part where the blushing bride is convinced, quite rightly, that the staff know exactly what is going on every time she and her husband disappear.’
‘Idiot,’ she said shakily and leaned towards him for his kiss.
* * *
Giles locked the door behind them and kissed her. Kissed her while he undressed her, kissed her while he fought off his own clothes, kissed her as they stood, naked in each other’s arms.
Laurel began to back towards the bed, but he stopped her, lifted his head. ‘I have something to give you. Something of yours to return.’
‘Mine?’ Intrigued and impatient she followed him to the dresser and watched as he opened the leather box with his studs and pins and rings. A small, grey, crudely shaped lump of metal sat amongst the gems and the gold.
‘What is it?’ Laurel took it when he held it out, flat on his palm.
‘You gave it to me to look after for you, that night at the fair. I’ve looked after it ever since.’
Laurel rubbed her thumb across it. ‘It is the heart, the golden heart I wanted so much and Stepmama refused to buy for me. So you bought it and I realised I couldn’t keep it. But, Giles, that was years ago.’ It had been gold then, all those years ago, gilded with cheap paint that had rubbed off to reveal the pewter beneath.
‘You gave me your heart to keep safe and I have.’ He took her hand and pressed her fingers to the callouses she had noticed on his right hand. ‘I kept it in my pocket, tried to wear it out, but it was too strong for that. I wanted to keep it, but it is right that you have it again. Besides, I have you now, I have your real heart beating against mine.’
There were too many things to say, none of them that she had the words for. He had kept her heart safe.
‘Make love to me, Giles.’ Her hand closed around the token as he lifted her high against his chest.
His arms felt strong and safe and his weight as he came down over her on the bed was a claiming as positive as his kiss. Giles rested his forehead against hers as they lay, not moving, simply breathing each other in, letting the fear and the anger ebb away and the love and the trust fill them again.
Laurel opened her hand. ‘Will you take it back and look after it for me again?’
Giles took the heart, closed his fingers tight on it. ‘Shall I have it gilded again? Real gold this time.’
‘No.’ Laurel looked into the lapis-blue eyes and shook her head. ‘That heart is how you shaped it. How I feel about you has shaped me. Neither the heart nor I am perfect, but we are true to you, just as we are.’
‘And I have come home,’ Giles said as he moved against her, sheathed himself in her. ‘Not to a house or an estate or a title. But to you. And to love.’
