“Stay.”
Raven stood at the window, looking out at the dark gardens. He’d removed his jacket; the pale moonlight outlined his broad shoulders and slim waist and when he turned to her the fire glow laved the angle of his cheek and the straight line of his jaw.
Heloise let her hand drop from the doorknob and just stood there, tongue-tied and stupid. He stalked forward and reached past without touching her, just a faint disturbance in the air, then closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He took the pomegranate from her nerveless fingers and placed it gently on the bedside table, then casually unbuttoned the silver studs at his wrists. He placed them on the side table then loosened his cravat, tugged it off, and laid it carefully over the back of the armchair by the fire. Then he shrugged out of his shirt.
He still hadn’t looked at her.
Heloise couldn’t look away. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, roving his body to ensure his injuries had healed. The bandage was gone from his head, and there had been no sign of a limp when he’d crossed the room. Her pulse beat strongly in her throat as he withdrew a pistol and a knife from the small of his back and laid them next to the pomegranate. He sat on the edge of the bed. There was a metallic clatter as he picked something up and Heloise drew in a shocked breath as she recognized the handcuffs.
His eyes caught hers.
Chapter 44
Raven’s heart was racing as if he’d just mounted the steps to the guillotine.
He snapped one end of the cuffs around his wrist and pushed down the spurt of panic that assailed him. Thesnickas they snapped shut sounded like the slam of a prison door; he kept his eyes fixed on her for courage. If he looked away from her he’d be lost.
Without breaking eye contact he attached the other end to the bedpost and leaned back against the headboard, forcing his reluctant muscles to obey. His skin felt too tight, every sinew screamed with tension. He’d rather swim naked across an alligator-infested swamp than do this, but it had to be done. He had to prove the depths of his love.
Heloise found her voice. “What are you doing?”
He managed to summon a faint, self-mocking smile. “Proving you’re the only thing I’ve never wanted to escape from.”
—
Heloise couldn’t breathe.
What did he mean by that? Just because he didn’t want to escape from her didn’t mean he wanted her forever. But at least he was admitting he cared for her, which was more than he’d ever done before. Raven hated being trapped. And yet he’d voluntarily placed himself in the worst situation he could devise, simply for her.
A reluctant smile curved her lips. A normal man would have used soft words and flowers. Raven sent her strange fruit, locked them together in a darkened room, placed his weapons out of reach, and chained himself to a bed. Lunatic.
She swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat and aimed for a wry tone. “The fact that you need to attach yourself to a heavy piece of furniture to endure my presence is hardly flattering.”
“I thought you might appreciate the gesture.”
She adopted a pitying, superior expression. “I can’t believe you actually trust me to release you. After all you did to me?” She glanced at his pistol on the nightstand. “I should just shoot you right now and have done with it.”
“I trust you,” he said solemnly. “With my life.”
Oh, goodness.
Heloise took a step toward the bed. “This isn’t the same situation at all, you know.”
Raven’s lips quirked. “You’re right. I’m awillingprisoner.” A hint of his usual wickedness returned as he raised his cuffed wrist a fraction for emphasis.
“Where’s the key?”
He motioned across the room. “Over there, on the desk.”
She nodded, but made no move to retrieve it. She’d spent the past three weeks moping around, alternating between righteous fury and abject misery. She wasn’t letting him go until she’d made him suffer, just a little bit.
As if sensing her resolve, Raven eyed her warily as she approached the bed. When her knees hit the side she reached out and traced the veins on the inside of his exposed wrist with her fingertips. He hissed through his teeth and gave an involuntary jerk.
She traced up his arm to his shoulder, enjoying the way his muscles leaped and twitched under her gentle touch. She glanced at him from under her lashes. “I hate to say it, Ravenwood, but it sounds as if you can’t live without me.”
“I could live without you,” he said softly. “I just wouldn’t want to.”
The room wavered and dimmed. She’d waited six long years to hear him say something like that, but now, after everything that had happened, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more than a temporary carte blanche. Nothing less than complete surrender would do. He didn’t have to live without her. He had to want to livewithher. Permanently.