“I cannot,” he agreed, “but I don’t wish to confess it.”
“Then you’re a coward,” Argyle said with a shrug of his scarred shoulders. “And I never thought you to be a coward.”
“Do not speak to me of cowardice,” he pointed out. “You’re the one who hides yours—”
Argyle gave him a look that would have slayed a lesser man. “I protect people by hiding myself away. I don’t wish to make children sick in the streets and cause women to cry.”
He’d done so. Garret knew it.
It was no small thing. Garret had seen it happen, and he wished he could take back his ill-advised comment.
Children had cried at the sight of Argyle’s face. Women had winced and turned their backs. It was a hard thing to see because Argyle had given his physical perfection up in the name of protecting women and children, of protecting the weak.
And when he needed protecting, he had been left out to wither in the cold. The cruelty and the blatant thanklessness of society had been breathtaking.
But that was how society was.
He and Argyle had come to accept it years ago when they had returned home from the war. Society would not thank them for keeping them safe. No, society would judge them harshly for the things that they did, for how they were, and that was simply how it was.
And it was the price that they both were willing to pay to leave the world better and safer for those who did not wish to thank them for it.
“A young woman came to me for aid,” he ground out.
“That is not uncommon,” Argyle said easily.
“Yes, but what she asked me for…”
“What did she ask you for?” Argyle teased, laughing. “Your innocence?”
“No,” he replied, folding his arms over his chest. “She asked me to take hers.”
Argyle stilled, his face twisted, his scars whitening. “And did you take it?”
“Yes,” he stated without attempting to justify himself.
“Well, you did what she asked.” Argyle crossed to his desk and began arranging his books. “What’s the dilemma?”
“You can see the problem,” he snapped.
Argyle folded his arms over his bare chest, mirroring Garret’s stance, though he winced as the move caused his muscles to spasm.
“Yes, I can see the cause,” Argyle said. “She has made you feel something that you were not prepared to feel.”
“She’s not just a cause,” he snapped.
“Clearly.”
He blew out a breath. “She’s a remarkable person, a wonderful woman, and I should not be near her.”
“Why?” Argyle demanded. “Can you not help a remarkable, wonderful woman?”
He shook his head, trying to explain his growing sense of concern. “I cannot be with someone who might awaken something in me that I cannot control, or it will cause me so much agony that I cannot—”
Argyle stopped him. “I understand. You do not wish the monster to be pulled out of the darkness. You do not wish that monster to be awakened to devour you whole.”
He gave a tight nod.
“When you feel it,” Argyle said, “come to me, and I’ll thrash him back into his place. Do you not feel better now?”