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“He told Wes he’s not moving until he talks to you—alone. So you can understand why I’m hesitant to leave you alone here in London or anywhere else, for that matter.”
Her fingers clamped together, her nails digging into her palms. “Did Wes threaten him?”
“Most likely, knowing Wes. But Rune is still out there.”
She nodded, then silently stood and moved over to the window.
Her heart pounding in her throat, she drew aside the drapery. The mist that had permeated the day had collected on the glass, fat droplets that streaked downward in front of her eyes.
A blink, and she found Rune leaning against the black iron railing, his arms crossed in front of him, his clothes soaked and hanging limply from his strong frame. His black trousers were lumpy around the knot of the white bandage about his leg where she had stabbed him. His brown hair, dark with the wetness, dripping onto his face.
His stare found her instantly. Piercing, sending blades through her chest.
He made no motion. Not the slightest twitch.
Stubborn bugger.
All that and he didn’t even look pathetic. He looked solid. A granite boulder in a raging river, the world parting around him. Determination that wasn’t about to yield.
She let the drape fall from her fingers, blocking her view of him.
She couldn’t look at him for long without breaking.
With a step backward she inhaled, breath edging deep into her lungs, barely able to make it through the clamp that had seized onto her chest the moment she’d seen him.
Hell, she’d already broken.
“I’ll see him. I’ll talk to him.” She turned back to Des.
Des set the paper onto the ottoman in front of him and stood. “You are sure?”
“If I see him, then he’ll leave, right?”
His brow furrowed. “One never knows with Rune. He lied to us for years, so what do I know of him?”
Exactly. What did she really know of him?
Talk to him. Get him out of her life. It was all she needed to concentrate on now.
She’d had this same conversation numerous times with men during the last six years.
Rune would just be one more.
{ Chapter 26 }
One last breath to solidify her spine and Elle opened the door to the drawing room, her gaze downward as she entered the room, refusing to look up. She turned around to close the door, her look on the tips of her slippers poking out from her skirts.
A cowardly entrance, but she didn’t want to actually see Rune and retreat before she’d even entered the room.
Though ill-advised, the solidly closed door would do her good—setting a barrier against a too-early escape.
Both Des and Weston were waiting on the main stairwell, ready and anxious to charge into the room should she utter the slightest cry for them.
But she couldn’t call foul quite yet, even though every bone in her body wanted to thrash Rune, through and through. She at least needed to turn around to him first. Look at him.
Pulling her shoulders back, she exhaled and spun around.
Rune stood across the room from her, ramrod straight with his back awkwardly touching the white stone fireplace mantel as though someone had shoved him against it and he had never bounced off of it. Dark circles wrapped his eyes, but his copper-green irises were alive, fire burning in them.
