Page 18 of Master of Games
How had she not realized she’d needed to say them for so long? That they’d been fighting to get out? “When I saw the fire, I didn’t think, I just ran.”
“You tried to save her?” he asked quietly, his palm splayed out on the small of her back.
“I did, but the fire raged out of control so quickly and I was too slow. The door had melted off its hinges and I burst through it screaming her name.”
Another shudder passed through him. Or maybe that was her. “Did you race into the flames?”
“You give me too much credit.” She shook her head.
“I’ve never given you enough.”
She looked up at him then, his features twisted in pain. “That’s not true. I think you have given me more than any man I’ve met.” The truth of those words settled over her and for the first time she acknowledged how he was more than she’d given him credit for.
“It still wasn’t enough,” he answered hoarsely. “Now tell me what happened next.”
She shook her head. “It’s so awful. I shouldn’t burden you with the memories that torture me.”
“Of course you should. I’m rather tolerant of pain. It’s one thing I can give you.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “I couldn’t see her through the flames, she didn’t answer my calls. But the smoke, it filled my lungs and then I collapsed. It was John, the footman, who pulled me out, but by then…” She didn’t finish, not needing to explain that she’d been burned.
Or maybe those words were still too painful.
“I failed, Ironheart. I didn’t save her.” She shook her head. “I didn’t save myself either.”
“Don’t think of it like that,” he replied, but his words held a certain slur that pulled her from her memories. His face was ashen.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just a bit dizzy,” he answered, his weight leaning more heavily into hers. “Perhaps I should sit for a minute.”
“There’s a bench over here in the shade of the willow.” She moved to prop her shoulder in his armpit and directed him toward the arched branches.
Tabbie helped him onto the bench and he cursed himself. He was supposed to be helping her. Instead, in her Tabbie way, she was once again supporting him.
He ought not to come out here. He knew it. After two days of bleeding and riding, his body needed some rest.
But she’d been ready to share and if teasing and flirting weren’t going to help, an emotional connection was the next choice in his campaign to win Tabbie’s hand.
But he also felt this urgency to convince Tabbie they should marry. Perhaps it was the fact that Whitehouse was breathing down his neck that pushed him to make changes. And now that Whitehouse had attempted to shoot him, Caden would have to return post haste and see the man to prison and the gallows.
Whitehouse had never been a greater threat, and if he wanted a long future, the man needed to be dealt with the moment he was able.
Tabbie placed a hand on his forehead, checking him for fever. Looking down at the concern in her eyes, he knew Whitehouse wasn’t the entire reason he was pressing forward.
For the first time in his adult life, he’d found a different direction forward.
One that did not involve drunkenness, debauchery, and a disregard for himself and others. With a woman like Tabbie, he could be different.
And just maybe, he could like himself.
He’d seen Tabbie face down the women who were awful to her. She’d held her chin high and fought with the strength of a general. They’d tried to tease her about her scars, shame her. She’d not even batted an eye.
He could be her soldier. The man who put her in a position so great, those men and women wouldn’t dare. He could crack the heads of the few who did.
But he wasn’t certain he could be his best self without her.
And it made him frantic to make her his wife. But he forced himself to relax.
