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When he asked for it, her eyes went wide with surprise, as though it was the last thing in the world she’d expected him to ask, but she didn’t hesitate. Finding her spectacles on the side table, she slid out of bed, leaving him aching for her as she crossed the room to fetch it.
“You could have taken it from me at any point,” he said as she returned to him.
“Would you believe I have been distracted by other things?”
He smiled, a thrum of arrogant pleasure coursing through him. “By me.” He’d seen the tears in her eyes when he woke, though. Had held her in his arms as she’d shaken with relief. This woman felt something for him. And he was not about to turn it away.
She extended the box to him, and he shook his head. “You do it. I’ll teach you.”
The wary look in her eyes was unmistakable and he knew she was worried about what truths he might demand in exchange for tips about the cube, but before he could speak, she gave him a little, uncertain smile and said, “As I said when we began it, I am an open book.”
Henry was through with the game, despite desperately wanting to play it. He’d been drinking in the little bits of her, tiny moments of revelation, filled with skirts tied with beautiful ribbons and secret passageways behind paintings of shield-maidens and kisses on bridges. She liked Westminster Bridge. He’d buy it for her, dammit.
But the little sips of her were no longer enough. He wanted to bathe in her.
First, he’d show her that he would never ask for more than she was willing to give. That he would be the only person with whom she did not have to perform. He lifted his chin in the direction of the box she held. “Show me what you remember.”
She made quick work of the mechanism, remembering each step without hesitation, until she landed where she’d been before, a narrow cylinder in her hand. “It doesn’t open,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I thought it might be a key.”
“It’s not so simple,” he replied, wanting her to keep talking. Wild about the way she turned the puzzle over in her mind.
And then, his brilliant lady touched the tip of the obsidian cylinder to the exterior of the box. And gasped. “It’s a magnet!”
He wanted to kiss the delight from her lips. “It is.”
With supreme focus, she ran it across the box. “It sticks in some places, but not others.” Her eyes found his, bright with triumph. “It’s a maze. The key isinside.”
It took her no time to find the place where the magnet collected an item on the inside of the cube, nor to trace the large letter C that filled one side of the cube with slow, sure patience, until she reached the bottom of the curve and a littleclicksounded. Her lips twisted into the prettiest smile he’d ever seen, triumphant and sweet and enough to make him want to toss the box across the room and take her back to bed.
She’d found another latch, a seam along the edge of the box popping open, allowing her to slide a piece of wood from its mooring there, releasing what appeared to be the top of the cube.
“Be careful now.” He couldn’t stop himself from helping.
She looked to him, her gaze tangling with his for amoment and searching for clues. He didn’t give them to her. Instead, he gave her a dozen other things—hoping she would understand them. Pride. Pleasure. Adoration. Desire. A promise that when she was through with the puzzle, if she set the box aside and asked him to make love to her, he would do it without question.
Because in that moment, he belonged to her. She was discovering his secrets just as much as she was discovering the secrets of the box. And for the first time in his life, Henry felt clear to share them. She worked on the box, her touch gentle and seeking and soft—enough to make him wish she was working on him instead. When she lifted the panel, it revealed a second wall inside, a smooth piece of oak painted like a starfield, that looked at first glance as though it was a red herring.
Except it wasn’t. There were three small circles inlaid in the painted wood, beautifully decorated: a sun marked with a swirling L, a moon with a C, a planet surrounded by rings with an H. Not just circles. Buttons.
“Careful,” he said again, steel in the word.
She understood immediately. “The wrong button will destroy the contents.”
His blue eyes found hers and his pride was overpowered with something else. Admiration.Fire.She thought for a moment, one fingertip coming to tap at her lower lip, making him want to lean forward and take it between his teeth, to kiss her until she was panting with pleasure. Unaware of the direction of his thoughts, she quickly understood what she faced. “Ink?”
He nodded. “Clever girl.”
“The benefit to being a lifelong thief. I’ve seen traps like this before.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you not wish to ask me a question?”
“I wish to ask you a thousand of them.” The truth. “But not now.”
“And what, I will owe you?”
The question made him want to rage. Who had taught her this? That every moment with another person was a transaction? Who had made her believe that she had to give up pieces of herself for others? “Adelaide,” he said, quietly. “You owe me nothing. Do you understand? You saved my life. You healed me and sat vigil as I mended and you still think I will ask you payment for a piece of me. You owe menothing.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He did kiss her then, stealing the caress, licking into her mouth, stroking deep before retreating to send a slow, lingering lick along her bottom lip. “You’re so close,” he whispered. “Finish it.”
