Page 54 of Seducing the Knave

As he quietly came to a stop close behind her, he caught a whiff of her violet scent harmoniously threaded through with the sandalwood soap he preferred.

Something twisted harshly inside him as he thought of her bathing in his bedroom—using his personal things.

Lust, of course. But something else as well. It was a sensation shockingly akin to longing.

He immediately stiffened, hardening himself against the useless emotion as he focused on the much more manageable and far more rewarding rush of desire claiming his body.

The urge was there—to simply reach out and grasp her waist and pull her roughly back against him. He’d delight in her soft gasp of surprise and revel in the moment her body would recognize him and all her feminine curves would melt against his hardness. A moment later, he’d have her dress in a pool around her feet and his hand between her thighs, wringing moans of pleasure from her lush parted lips.

But Max had agreed not to touch her.

So, he curled his hands into fists instead, breathing slow and deep through his nose as burning tendrils of lust snaked through his blood.

When she tipped her chin up to gaze at the sliver of a moon just barely visible in the night sky and released a heavy sigh, Max nearly dropped to his knees. But it was her huskily whispered words that truly threatened to break him.

“You’ve been gone all day?”

She knew he was there.

For some reason, that revelation combined with the wistfulness of her voice and the fact that she hadn’t tried to retreat from his nearness triggered that spear of longing once again.

He forced it back as he stepped up close behind her.

She drew a swift breath, but she didn’t stiffen and didn’t pull away.

“Miss me, luv?” he murmured in an intentionally provocative tone.

She sighed and tilted her head, exposing the elegant line of her neck and shoulder, but still...she didn’t turn to look at him. She just continued to gaze out the window.

After a moment, she said softly, “I’ve been looking out this window for hours. Watching the gradual shifting of day to night. Watching the people pass below me, going about the various tasks of their day. Is St. Giles truly as dangerous as they say?”

Max stepped even closer, until barely a breath separated them, his body soaking up the sweet warmth of her as he gazed over her head at the neighborhood he loved. “More so,” he replied in a murmur. “But it’s got its own sort of beauty, as well.”

“Does it?” she whispered, her tone hopeful, as though she’d been looking for evidence of exactly that.

Max hesitated. He’d never voiced his thoughts on the matter out loud. He wasn’t even sure he could. But when she remained silent and waiting, he realized that for the first time, he wanted to explain this to someone.

“Most see only ugliness and sin. The desperation and vice inherent in people with nothing left to lose. And there is that. Plenty of it. There are souls so fucking lost their existence is one hellish torment after another. There’s greed and hatred and the pain of knowing life will never be anything more—it’ll never be better than it is right now.”

He paused and inhaled slowly to fill his lungs as his insides tightened with an emotion he refused to name. “That’s what most see,” he muttered.

He heard her exhale. A long sigh. A release as her entire body softened. Relaxing, gentling. Until her back rested against his chest and her head tipped back against his shoulder. The shift in her posture and the ease of her closeness had been so subtle that he wasn’t even sure she realized she’d done it.

“What do you see?”

Her question was light and dreamy.

And it felt as natural as anything to rest his hands on her slim shoulders and soothe her muscles with firm strokes of his thumbs.

“All that awfulness is there. It’d be stupid to pretend it ain’t,” he noted roughly. “But thriving within it is stout courage and unwavering loyalty. There’s the love of a mother who’d do anything fer her babes. The generosity of an old man passing hard-earned wisdom to young lads who’ll someday take his place. Mates willing to beg, steal, and die fer each other. Families bound by something more powerful than blood.” He took a heavy breath and let it out. “And there’s hope.”

She made a soft humming sound when he slipped his hands beneath the fall of her hair to work his thumbs up her neck to the base of her skull. “I used to have hope,” she murmured, “when my parents were still alive. I’d believed my future could be anything I wanted it to be. Love. Family. A beautiful home. Just as they had.” She sighed. “At least they died together. Neither of them was forced to live without the other. While I was left without both of them.”

The sadness in her voice was palpable, but not enough to keep Max from noticing the slight slur in her words and the faint whiff of ale on her breath.

“And now,” she continued, “my only chance at thwarting my wretched cousin is to marry a total stranger. Who? Who can I marry? And why should I have to?” Her tone grew increasingly agitated and her body tensed beneath his hands. “Why can I not simply live my life without having to give myself into some man’s keeping? It’s bloody infuriating.”

Max chuckled at the emphatic curse that slid with surprising ease from her lips.

---