Page 129 of The Hunter

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

“I would be your blade in the darkness,” he bartered. “So you and Jakub could stand in the light. I would never leave you again. I would protect you, support you, and give you the freedom you crave. I would follow you anywhere you wish to go, anywhere the stage takes you. For where you are, that is where my home is.

“I’ll take you dancing, Millie,” he bargained. “Every night for the rest of our lives. I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go. Nothing sounds better than seeing the world with your light shining on it.” He cast about for something else, anything that would tempt her back to him. “I’m taking a position with Morley. With Scotland Yard, if you’d believe it. It pays less but I have more money than I know what to do with.”

An idea occurred to him on that note. “I’ll let you fill my house with things, countless, useless expensive things. Until it’s a home, and not a shell. And I’ll try. I’ll try sofuckinghard not to be a shell, either. And… I’ll give Jakub my name. Tainted as it is. No matter what happens, it’s his, it’syours. Whatever you want is yours.I’myours. And you aremineso justdon’t…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“Welton?” The name sounded like a rusty croak on Millie’s pale lips.

Shock turned Christopher’s limbs cold and he jerked his head toward his butler. He’d forgotten the man even existed, truth be told, let alone lurked in the corner.

Welton?Why the fuck would his name be the first on her lips when—

“Yes, madam?” Welton’s eyes were suspiciously bright, the rims red, but his cheeks were dry as though he’d wiped them on the pristine handkerchief he clutched in the hand at his side.

“Did you get all that?” Her voice was barely above a soft rasping whisper, and still it held the glimmer of dauntless spirit and merriment that Christopher recognized as purely her own.

“Of course, madam.” The butler’s voice was warmer than Christopher had ever heard it.

“Most especially the part about expensive things,” she said, sighing.

“Every word.”

“Thank you, Welton.”

“You’reverywelcome.”

***

It amazed Millie that such a tiny bullet could make her feel like she’d been stampeded by a coach and four. Though any light at all seared her sore eyes and aching head, she knew she had to see Christopher to believe he was really there. That this was truly happening.

He’d professed his love.

She blinked her eyes open slowly. Her head felt muddled, as if she’d been given something that made everything seem like some gilded dream. Including the auburn hair of the man staring down at her as though she’d lost her mind, or he had.

He breathed her name and on that whisper she heard the echo of every beautiful thing that swelled in her heart.

It hurt to lift her hand, but she wanted to touch his face. He caught it halfway up and buried his hard, stubbled jaw against her palm. Pressing his lips to her fingers.

“I was never going to leave you,” she assured him. “I love you too much to let a paltry bullet keep us apart.”

The strong chin in her palm trembled, the ice in those pale, pale eyes melted into moist oceans of emotion. With a harsh sound ripped from deep in his chest, Christopher dropped his head down, burying it in her shoulder as he visibly fought for control of his lungs.

Millie lolled her head to rest against his, closing her eyes to savor his nearness. He’d come for her. He’d conquered his fear and his pain, and the chamber of ice around his heart. Could this be possible? A happy ending for two souls such as they?

“Did you really mean what you promised?” she asked against his lush hair.

He gave a surreptitious sniff against her shoulder. “About the expensive furniture, you mean?”

“No.” She tried to laugh, but it caused the dull pain in her side to turn sharp and burning. “No,” she said again, this time much more subdued. “The part about giving Jakub and me your name. Are you going to marry me, Christopher Argent?”

“I should have claimed you the moment we met.”

“And I won’t have to take another bullet to hear you say you love me?”

He pulled away just far enough to look down at her, to meet her eyes with his own. “I love you, Millicent LeCour,” he vowed.

“Good. But don’t forget what you said about the furniture.” Her breaths became deeper, as sleep tried to claim her again. Her voice was dreamy and light. Everything was golden and lovely. “Oh, and just be warned, my love, our wedding is going to be obscenely expensive, too.”

She welcomed the soft embrace of healing slumber, but not before her greatest wish was granted.

It was quiet and low with rusty notes of caustic irony. And yet, it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard or could ever hope to hear. One she hoped to provoke many times in the years to come.

Christopher Argent’s laugh.