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He’d strayed too far.
And now he was lost.
Absently, he realized he’d lost control of his bowels then… and he gazed into Rowan’s eyes before the world went black. He found pity there. A cold, hard, black pity. Then he fell into that blackness.
And the abyss stared back at him.
* * *
Rowan pushed open the door, which communicated between Mary’s chamber and his solar. She’d fallen asleep within minutes of being moved there. Now, as the world outside the window hung black and cold, he stood before her bed and watched her sleep.
His heart ached and tightened at the sight of her small body curled up, the cut on her neck slick with a salve. The wooden wolf toy was clasped in her hand and nestled against her heart.
He saw so much of Blanchette in her. For a moment, it frightened him.
She’s not my blood, but she’s my daughter all the same.
He sat beside her for what felt like an eternity. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her side.
Finally, the pain in his arm was too much to bear. He’d received prompt help to stop the bleeding, but the cut throbbed. Holding his arm, he came to his feet and leaned over Mary. Warmth filled him, and he released a long breath of true contentment.
He swept away her curls and gently kissed her forehead. His heart ached with the love he felt for her.
“I’m so sorry, Mary,” he whispered next to her ear. “No one shall ever hurt you again. I promise…”
* * *
I promise…
Rowan came to Blanchette’s chamber as the sun climbed over the castle. A blood-red tinted the horizon. She stood on the balcony, watching as the dead were looted and carried away in carts. Pyres for the fallen men burned just outside the curtain wall. Absently, she fiddled with her signet ring, watching as the burst of light set it aglow. Her other hand gripped Governess Agnes’s cross.
“Rowan! Oh, thank God,” she exclaimed, crossing herself in a clumsy motion. “I’ve been waiting for you, watching for you. God is Good…” She raced to him and threw her arms around his waist. He winced at the pressure on his wound. “Oh, my love. Is it bad?”
He gazed deeply into her eyes. “No, not so bad. Not any longer. But you were supposed to escape, Blanchette. Damn you,” he said, grasping her hands.
“I shall never leave you. I am yours, Rowan. Remember?” She smiled and felt tears tumble down her cheeks. Knuckling them away, she led him to the writing desk, where she’d prepared bandages, ointments, and a needle and thread. A chair stood before it. He sank down into it, his gaze never parting from her.
His fingers went to the laces on his shirt. Deftly, Blanchette moved them out of the way. “Here, let me care for you. Just relax now.”
She dunked a cloth in the warm water and herbs basin, wrung it out, and lightly slid it over the wound. He grimaced and audibly ground his teeth together.
Once she finished cleaning and sewing the wound, Blanchette wrapped it with a cloth.
“So much death,” she whispered. He stood, and she felt his muscular arms envelop her waist. She leaned against him and released a long-suffering sigh, feeling the knots loosen in her chest.
“Thanks to you, not nearly as much as there might have been. You saved the city and thousands of lives.”
She smiled wearily. Pushed her head against his chest so she could look up at him. “My sister did, really… We shall sup with her and King Adam tomorrow, before they return to Demrov.” He nodded, then kissed the crown of her forehead. “Is Mary well?”
“Well enough. I fear the questions she’ll ask when she wakes.” He sounded exhausted.
“I’m so sorry. About Smoke and Jonas. I?—”
His mouth crashed against hers and swallowed her words. Her small hands came up between them, fisting in the loose material of his linen shirt. His hair was damp, and he smelled freshly bathed—the scents of lemon and sandalwood aroused her senses. His lips worked against hers, and she felt the pressure of his strong hands spanning her back. She moaned into his mouth as one palm formed around the shape of her behind. The other wedged between their bodies. Long fingers grazed her cheek, her neck, and finally, the top of her breasts, where they strained against her soft cotton dress. Their mouths moved with raw desperation. Her thrashing heart knocked in her ears.
She longed to lose herself in him… to feel him on her, inside her, until the rest of the world faded, and there was only them.
Rowan scooped her off her feet, cradling her in his arms like a doll. She stared up at his handsome features and hazel eyes… into the face she’d grown to know and understand and love. He crossed the chamber with quick steps, his gaze never parting from hers. Plush wolfskin pressed against her back. He laid her on the four-poster bed and stared down at her, his eyes heavy with affection and desire. Brittle shafts of sunlight came in from the balcony and shone in the black of his hair as he visibly took her in.
