Page 111

A laugh escaped him—unexpected, genuine. "God forbid."

He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. The lavender smell of her soap enveloped him and he drank it in. The delicate bones of her wrist beneath his fingers felt like the most precious thing he'd ever held.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, "that if I close my eyes, I'll sleep until next week."

"Then perhaps," Graham murmured against her skin, "we should stay awake."

He bent his head, claiming her mouth with his. This kiss held none of the desperate relief of the courtroom. It was slow, deliberate—a promise rather than a celebration. Abigail's hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, and he felt her sigh against him as she melted into his embrace.

Graham gathered her closer, one arm at her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Her hair tangled around his fingers as he deepened the kiss, tasting tea and honey and exhaustion and joy all mingled together.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "Abigail," he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.

Before she could respond, he swept her into his arms. She gave a small sound of surprise, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"Graham! What are you?—"

He crossed to her bed in three long strides and laid her gently upon it, following to kneel beside her. The lamplight cast her in gold and amber, her hair spread across the pillows like spilled silk.

Graham caught her hand again, pressing a kiss to each fingertip. "Do you know," he said between kisses, "that I've imagined touching you like this since that first day at Beacon House? When you stood in that storage room fighting with that ridiculous chest?"

Abigail's eyes widened. "Even then?"

"Especially then." His mouth quirked. "Though I was loath to admit it, even to myself."

He lowered himself beside her, propped on one elbow so he could watch her face. The back of his hand brushed along her cheek, down the column of her throat, lingering at the pulse point where her heartbeat fluttered beneath his touch.

"I was terrified today," he admitted. "Not of Hollan or the asylum or even the court. I was terrified of losing you. Ofwatching them strip away everything that makes you shine, and being powerless to stop it."

"They didn't succeed." Abigail's voice was soft but firm. "We're still here. We won."

"You were so brave." His fingers stroked the silk at her shoulder.

She shook her head. "I was falling apart inside."

"But you didn't break." Graham's voice roughened with emotion. "Do you have any idea how extraordinary you are?"

Abigail's eyes filled with tears. "Graham?—"

He kissed her again, not to silence her, but because he couldn't bear another moment without tasting her. Her hands slid into his damp hair, holding him to her as the kiss deepened, urgent now with need too long denied.

Outside, London continued its afternoon bustle. Carriages clattered over cobblestones. Lamplight bloomed against the gathering dark. But within the sanctuary of their room, time slowed to the rhythm of shared breaths and whispered promises.

For that moment, there was no past to haunt them, no future to fear. There was only this—this moment, this connection, this love that had endured trials by fire and emerged stronger for the tempering.

And when at last they lay together in the quiet aftermath, Abigail's head rested on his chest. His hands were steady now, strong and sure as they traced patterns on her skin.

"I love you," he murmured against her temple. "I should have told you sooner."

Abigail lifted her head, giving him a sleepy smile. "You did tell me," she said, pressing a kiss to his chin. "Every time you stayed when you wanted to run.

Lincoln was right. The next chapter is going to be full of light —and her name is Abigail.

She laid her palm over his heart. "And I love you. Not because you're a duke or a doctor or because of the girls. I love you because you're Graham. Because you try.”

He gathered her to him and, for once, Graham did not fear what was waiting in the darkness of his dreams.

A soft moan escaped Abigail's lips as Graham's mouth moved from hers to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him closer, savoring the warmth of his breath against her skin.