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I was angry enough to wonder if I should plan another assassination attempt—but this time with Cael as the target. I hated the bastard.
But Graham, on the other hand . . . I could hardly wait for more of him.
I didn’t know what I intended with him. I was leaving. I wouldn’t get to be with him. Just because he’d kissed me didn’t mean he was suddenly going to pardon me of all my crimes and rewrite Cambrian law so we could be together.
But the truth was that I wished he would. He was the one thing that could still keep me here—if he wanted me.
I felt ashamed at the thought. I didn’t want one man’s love to be enough to alter all my desires. It didn’t seem right, or strong, or wise. I should be a person of conviction, someone who knows what she wants and would do anything to get it.
More like Cael—but with a whole different personality. The part of him with conviction. Not the throat-grabbing part of him.
The rattle of the key in the lock outside startled me back to the moment.
Was Cael back?
I braced myself, about to run downstairs, when the door opened to reveal the person I wanted to see most in this world.
Graham looked at me from the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, a lantern in the other, his hair and clothing rain-soaked.
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
One side of his mouth lifted, the light catching the dimple on his cheek that I’d fallen in love with before I knew I loved Graham.
He started to close the door.
“No,” I said, “please. I need to feel the rain.”
“Promise you won’t run?” he asked.
“Why would I?” I said. “You’re the only thing worth running to.”
His smile widened. He wasn’t free of conflict, that was clear, but he did seem free from self-control and that was good enough for me.
“Why’d you come so late? It’s going to be curfew soon.” I took the lantern from his stalled hand, putting it on the ground inside the shed to set his hands free for me.
“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes searching my face. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but . . . here I am.”
I slipped my hand under his jacket, sliding my fingers up his chest.
He let out a breath, reaching for my hand. “I . . . I’m sorry for questioning your motives earlier,” he said. “I should’ve thanked you instead of accusing you when you said you’d be willing to confess for me.”
“I meant it,” I said. “I want you to be king.”
“Thank you,” he said. “And I promise to do everything in my power to ensure your freedom, as much as I’d hate to see you go.”
Our foreheads rested against each other, the occasional raindrop landing on our faces and hair, but it was anything but restful. My heart raced.
“Kiss me again,” I said.
“What about your father?”
I shook my head. “He’s sound asleep. You’re free to put your hands on me.”
He didn’t waste a moment. His arms reached around me, pulling me in closer than I’d ever been to him. His hands moved up and down my body, restless and eager.
“I’ve been dreaming of nothing else,” he said into my ear, his voice soft.
He moved from my ear to my cheek to my mouth, his perfect lips undoing me. The kiss started slow and sweet, intensifying as we grew hungry with passion.
