He grunted. “Of course you can.”

“He is your companion and friend.”

She understood that relationship he shared, had pegged the dog to be more than a canine to Val, and he found himself disquieted at realizing she’d gathered that in their short time together.

Unable to meet eyes that saw entirely too much for her tender years, Val rubbed the top of the dog’s head. “And he will remain so. Until you return him to me.” The time when these stolen intimate moments together came to an end, when London was bustling, and when she was back under the protective wing of her family and servants, preparing for her first Season, and Val would remain as he’d been for so long behind his curtained windows . . . recalling all the times they’d spent together, alone.

And he’d miss them.

It was a realization that hit him square in the chest.

Myrtle slipped her palms in his. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He grunted. “It is nothing at all.”

“You and I both know that is not true.” She folded her fingers over the tops of his and lightly squeezed.

Now he should go. Now he could go.

Still, they remained there.

He remained there.

I should leave. I should leave . . .

And this time, after he touched the brim of his hat, he did.

As the door shut behind him, there was a finality to that light click that resonated like thunder in the winter quiet.

He trudged ahead, onward to his household, his now even lonelier household, everything within him crying out with the desire to return and to just . . . be with her. It was a foreign feeling that raised holy terror inside him.

This was why he needed to avoid her. This was why he needed her blasted family to come back and claim her. Because with every moment spent together, the walls he’d built to protect himself and to keep all other people out were crumbling, and he feared what would remain of him when she ultimately left.

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

He’d celebrated her birthday with her. Nay, not only that, but he’d talked with her about her wishes.

And he kissed you. Do not forget that. For a second time.

With a groan, she rolled onto her back. “As if I could.”

There’d been a heat the likes of which she’d never known before. Nay, not heat; heat would have been the candles upon her cake. This had been an all-out burning within, one that had started like the slow kindling of a fire and had grown, overtaking her, and she’d been content to burn.

“It was perfect,” she whispered, needing to tell herself because the urge to share with someone just how profound that moment with Val had been was so great. “His kiss . . . our kiss . . . was perfect.”