Page 6 of Absolution (Favorite Malady Trilogy #3)

DANE

I ’m relieved that the street “performer” on the purple bike isn’t stationed beside the Minster this morning. Abigail seemed to find him amusing, but I don’t want anything garish to distract from the moment I’m about to share with her.

She’s practically glued to my side as we stroll toward the cathedral, and her face is upturned to drink in the imposing, ancient edifice with its intricate stone carvings.

I don’t care about the church; I can’t take my eyes off her.

She’s the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen, her porcelain complexion shining with ethereal light beneath the late morning sun.

It illuminates her remarkable eyes, and they glow with otherworldly vibrancy.

The soft, contented curve of her perfect lips makes me think about how she looks when she’s cuddled up with me in bed, and their rosy hue is offset by the amethyst curl I love so much.

This miracle of a woman loves me despite everything I’ve done to her.

She wants to marry me.

I’ll never be worthy of her, but I’m selfish enough to claim her anyway. The least I can do is give her the proposal she deserves.

I reach into my pocket to retrieve the jewelry box. It takes all my willpower to peel myself from her side so that I can take her hand in mine and drop to one knee before her.

Her lovely lips part on a soft gasp, and she turns to face me. Her eyes are alight with something between giddy excitement and wonder, and for a few long seconds, I simply stare up at her. I’m thoroughly under her spell, at a loss for words for the first time in my life.

I haven’t said anything when she extends her left hand. Her fingers tremble slightly as she offers herself to me, a silent promise of forever.

“Abigail.” Her name is a rasp, and I have to draw a breath so that I can speak clearly.

“You’ve given my life meaning. I didn’t think I was capable of feeling this…

” I swallow hard against the strange constriction of my throat.

“You’ve made me feel alive for the first time in my life.

I can’t live without you. I refuse to live without you.

I know I’m not an easy man to love. I’ve wronged you in so many ways, but I plan to keep you anyway.

Do me the honor of sharing the rest of your life with me. ”

It's not a question.

But she answers with a soft, “Yes. I want to be with you, Dane. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

I take the emerald ring from the velvet box and slide it onto her slender finger, sealing her fate. It fits perfectly, securely. She’ll never take it off.

I lift her hand and press a reverent kiss over the green gemstone that marks her as mine. Now every man will clearly see my claim over her, and the ring is large enough that they’ll know it’s a warning.

No one touches what’s mine.

Half an hour later, I finally release Abigail’s hand so that she can sit down. She’s ready to return to the penthouse so I can fuck her senseless, but I want to show her off for a little while.

I’ve brought her to an upscale rooftop bar near York’s city walls.

Up here, we have a full view of the river and the historic buildings that surround the Minster.

It shines like gold in the midday sun, and Abigail can’t stop staring at it with that dreamy but intense focus that comes over her when she’s memorizing a scene for a painting.

An insane, jealous part of me doesn’t like her distraction. I want her focus to be on me.

But I’m content to watch her as she indulges her artistic nature. I know that she’s imprinting this moment on her memory so that she’ll have it forever, and my presence is part of her treasured experience.

“I’ll get us some Champagne,” I say, brushing one final kiss over her engagement ring. “I’ll be right back.”

I hate to leave her side for even a few minutes, but I want to celebrate the occasion properly. Abigail deserves to be spoiled, and I won’t neglect her. She finally allows me to care for her in the way I’ve always wanted—she doesn’t protest when I spend money on her anymore.

I admire her stubbornness, but it irked me in that regard. I’m pleased that we’re past that now.

And I meant what I said about her gallery; she’ll earn more than I do one day. Her art is priceless, and if I could, I’d covet each painting for myself. But I can allow her to sell her work. She deserves to feel that sense of accomplishment. Her talent should be celebrated.

I step off the terrace and enter the lavish hotel bar so that I can order our drinks.

It takes less than five minutes to procure two glasses of Champagne, but I should’ve known better than to leave her alone for a moment when there are intoxicated men nearby.

She’s sitting on the edge of her seat, posture perfect and chin tipped back. Her eyes are narrowed on the man who’s made the fatal mistake of deciding to approach my fiancée.

His cheeks are already flushed from alcohol despite the early hour, and his suit suggests his imminent attendance of York’s famous horse races. Fucking drunken racegoers.

He hasn’t entered her personal space, but he’s hovering too close to her.

“Enjoy your day.” As ever, she’s poised and polite, but her genial words are a frosty dismissal.

I stalk toward the bastard, ready to shove him over the railing so that his skull smashes on the sidewalk twelve stories below us.

Or maybe I’ll shatter one of the Champagne glasses against the table and use the jagged shards to slit his throat first. I want to watch him choke on his own blood as he realizes he’s going to die for daring to breathe the same air as my Abigail.

I set the other Champagne glass down so that I won’t spill a drop—that one is for her, and he won’t deprive her of the drink that I bought to celebrate our union.

Suddenly, she’s between me and the dead man. Her wide, aqua eyes pierce through the red haze that’s descended over my vision.

“Dane, no. It’s fine. I’m fine.” She speaks in calm, even tones. “I handled it. He didn’t touch me.”

I try to step around her and snarl at the bastard, “Do you not see the ring on her finger? She’s mine. ”

He holds his hands up and takes a stumbling step back. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t know.”

He’s so close to the edge of the rooftop. Just a few strides will close the distance between us. And then I can?—

“Dane.” Abigail’s hands bracket my face. “Look at me. He doesn’t matter.”

A low, feral sound rumbles from my chest. I’m almost out of my mind with possessive rage. After what Stephen did to her, I can’t bear the thought of another man harassing her. It’s my job to shield her from men who would covet what’s mine. I will do anything to protect her.

Anything.

“I don’t want you to kill for me again,” she murmurs. “Please, Dane. I can’t lose you. They’ll lock you up.”

Her tender touch and desperate whisper harness my full attention. She’s my anchor to sanity, and I lock my gaze on hers. I draw in several deep breaths, and the fucker who dared to talk to her takes the opportunity to slip away to safety.

If I’m going to spend the rest of my life with Abigail, I have to learn to control myself. These new emotions she evokes can be as powerful as a riptide, and I need to master them.

I’m stronger than my most primal impulses.

I’ll kill for her, if necessary, but I can recognize that my reaction just now wasn’t proportional to the slight against us.

Abigail is safe and unharmed. If anything, she’s more shaken by my murderous fury than she was bothered by the arsehole who drunkenly approached her.

I take another breath, and my hands settle over hers where she cups my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I won’t do anything to upset you.”

She kisses my taut lips, my sweet Abigail. “Thank you for the apology. There’s nothing to forgive. You want to protect me, and I love you for it. But you can’t threaten every man who talks to me. Trust that I can handle myself. If I need you, I’ll ask for help.”

A chill slithers down my spine. I can’t be with her all the time. When we return to Charleston, I’ll have to go back to work so that I can provide for us. She’ll want space to paint without me hovering over her.

I’m addicted to her, and the thought of letting her out of my sight makes my stomach knot.

The last time I left her alone with a man, he tried to rape her.

She trails her soft fingertips over my furrowed brow. “I’m safe,” she promises. “I know you’ll come for me if I need your help.”

“Always,” I vow. Whenever she needs me, I’ll find her.

The thought is a small comfort, and I manage to relax enough to pick up her Champagne glass.

She shakes her head before I can press it into her hand. “I want to go back to the penthouse now. I don’t want a drink. I need you, Dane.”

The last is rough with desperation, and it’s more than simple lust. She’s been through so much in the last twenty-four hours, and she needs me to hold her. It’s a miracle that she finds comfort in my possessive embrace, but I won’t question my good fortune.

“I need you, too, little dove.”

I grasp her left hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over her ring like it’s a talisman.

I can hardly wait to add her diamond eternity band wedding ring to complete my claim of marriage.

And I have another way to mark her as mine. We’ll need privacy for that.