Page 50 of Crying Wolfe
She was going to return all of it, every last thing. Starting with the cup.
Furthermore, she was going to control herself. Even if it seemed like she’d immolate from the inside out. Even if she never took another full breath. If her body shook with strain from now until her dying day.
For him, she would prevail over her own demon.
Forhim…she would do just about anything.
As she crept along the lush halls of Hespera House, Rosaline silently railed against the cruel twist of fate that would see her so happily married to a man so wounded by theft.
Her heart ached at the thought of his loneliness. And her soul had shriveled when he’d taken her in his arms and granted her the first little tendrils of his hard-won trust.
Her coarse American husband. Foul-mouthed and rough-skinned. His strong hands were capable of the utmost gentility. His caustic wit tempered to make her laugh. His hard lips kissed her with a tenderness she wasn’t aware existed on this earth.
She loved the way he looked as if he didn’t belong in his fine suits.
She loved the way he lookedat her, with a mixture of possession, passion, and something deeper she didn’t dare define.
She loved how his jaw never stayed smooth after a shave. And how his laugh sounded rusty, as if he’d not used it in a long time.
She loved the sparkle in his eye and the twitch in his right jaw when he was trying not to swear in front of her sisters.
She loved that he truly didn’t give one whit about what people thought of him. That he respected no one and cared not for nobility nor ego, but insisted that people earn his good opinion, no matter their station.
She loved that he was compassionate to the working class, and even more so to the destitute. That he parted with his money more willingly than anyone she’d ever met. Gave to every charity who asked, dropped coin to ever beggar on the street. Purchased an entire cart full of blossoms so that the owner, who’d been suffering from a dreadful cold, could go home and rest.
She loved that he’d ordered the flowers delivered to every room in which she liked to linger.
The observatory most of all.
She loved him.
She loved Elijah Wolfe. Her husband. And she was going to do everything she could to demonstrate that love.
Slipping into the observatory, Rosaline made her way toward the tables used to catalogue the findings from the proposed Midas Tomb. The panes of the glass ceiling allowed in an anemic glow, and she calmed her nerves by counting each individual reflection on the floor as she tiptoed through them.
“One, two, three, fou—”
They disappeared as the lights flared to life, startling her so absolutely she lost her hold on the wooden box. It crashed to the floor with a splintering sound, the lid flying off and the contents spilling everywhere.
“Rosaline?” Eli’s sleep-husked voice echoed through the observatory, fracturing her name into reverberating accusations as she squeezed her eyes shut in horror. “Are you all right? What are you doing in h—?”
With infinite slowness, Rosaline turned to find Eli stooping to retrieve one of the cufflinks from the ground with a bemused expression. “I thought I’d misplaced these… and…” He crossed to where his razor had slid to the rug her kittens had stained. Her heart didn’t flutter with panic as she’d expected it to do. Instead, it shrank and skipped entire beats each time he found something else of his. Stopping altogether when he abandoned everything to a chaotic pile in order to use both hands to reverentially retrieve the cup.
“The set wasn’t incomplete after all,” he said as if to himself before finally skewering her with a look of dawning suspicion that quickly darkened with temper. “Tell me you didn’t have this the entire time. That you didn’t take it on the night we met and lie to me about it ever since.”
Legs weak from trembling, Rosaline swallowed around a desert-dry lump in her throat and forced herself to meet his flinty dark eyes. “I can explain.”
“You canexplain.” He threw his arms open in a sarcastic gesture, as if gathering an invisible audience to hear something more absurd than they’d ever believe. “Everyonealwayswants to explainafterthey get caught. Well, let’s hear it, Mrs. Wolfe. Let’s hear whyyoustole from me. Let’s speculate as to why I would catch you with it the night I mentioned that people who were close to me had a remarkably predictable penchant of pulling this exact brand of bullshit.”
“I heard what you’ve gone through, and it…it moved me, Eli. I have all of this because I was intent upon returning it to you.” Bending her knees, she picked up his comb and held it out to him as a pathetic peace offering.
He simply stared at it, at her, as if the sight disgusted him. “Still doesn’t explain why you took it all in the first place.”
“I—I don’t know why,” she said, hating the tears that burned behind her nose. Hating how small her voice was becoming.
Hating herself most of all.
“I just…I just take things sometimes. I’ve done it always, and I can’t seem to stop.”
