The face in the shadow of the hood didn’t lift, but shifted away from her, answering in French. “Because, mon frere, I went to the surgeon’s table thinking of what you said when we parted. The precise words you used when you spoke of the future. Never once did you refer to us. Only to me. Then I realized, you were making the biggest mistake of your life. Sacrificing yourself for a monster like me.”
“You wouldn’t be a monster anymore, you bastard, that’s what we paid a fucking fortune to Conleith for!”
“Changing my face doesn’t change who I am. What I’ve done...”
“I wanted you to have a fucking chance!” Raphael exploded, snatching a rock from the ground and hurling it into the darkness. “And after this debacle they’ll hunt us to the ends of the earth.”
“No, they won’t.” Morley melted from the shadows as if they gave way for him.
Mercy had never been so conflicted to see someone in her entire life. On one hand, she was so utterly glad he had come.
On the other, she feared what he might do.
As usual, his chiseled face was cast in stone. Imperturbable. Inaccessible.
Only Pru seemed to be able to read him. To reach him.
“I’m prepared to say you were both lost in the fire,” Morley offered crisply. “Consider your deaths official. That is less paperwork for me, anyhow. But may God help you if you’re caught in London again, for I won’t.”
Raphael turned to him, attempting to wipe some of the blood from his cheek with his sleeve. “Why do this, when our capture would be a boon?”
“Because,” Morley’s pale gaze snapped to Mercy, and she might have read fondness beneath the censure. “Because you were right about the boots, Detective Goode, and had I listened to you earlier, so much of this might have been avoided.”
The Duchesse rejoined them, a wet cloth in her hand. She regarded the addition of the Chief Inspector with a dubious look.
Morley did little but nod, saying for her benefit, “I highly doubt the coroner will be able to determine which killed Inspector Trout. The wounds to his face or to his neck. In my opinion, he can be added to this rubbish heap of a night. I should like to avoid an international incident, besides.” He gave the Duchesse a starched bow of deference.
“Merci,” she replied.
Morley turned to gaze down at Felicity, his expression troubled to find her in the arms of one of the largest, most brutal men in Christendom. “Fainted, did she?”
Mercy nodded. “I’m afraid so.” She brushed her hand over the little curls at her sister’s temple, wondering if hers felt so downy soft. “Marco Villenueve terrorized her. He...he struck her.”
“When we find him, I’ll fucking kill him,” Morley said darkly, surprising even her with his vehemence.
At that, Gabriel’s neck snapped up, revealing some of his ruined lip to the torchlight.
It was Raphael who spoke, however. “I assumed he was killed in the fall down the stairs. He was a crumpled heap of bones.”
Morley shook his head. “No one has been able to locate him, alas, he’s quite disappeared.”
A prickling at the back of Mercy’s neck told her that to stand near Gabriel was possibly the most dangerous place to be at the moment.
Fury rolled off his shoulders in palpable waves.
And yet, he unfurled to stand without even jostling his burden, limping slightly as he offered Felicity into Morley’s care. “It is your face she should see when she wakes,” he said.
Morley took Felicity, eliciting a groan from the woman. “There we are. You’re all right.”
“You’re bleeding.” Mercy pointed to a pool that’d gathered where Gabriel had sat against the wall, the liquid gleaming like spilled ink in the firelight.
Gabriel only rolled his shoulder in a rather Gallic shrug, until Raphael checked the pool for himself, and found drops of blood along the path his brother had tread.
“Where are you hurt?” he demanded, clutching at his brother’s coat.
“It’s nothing,” the man growled, reverting back to his native tongue.
“That amount of blood is not nothing, you fucking lunatic, now tell me. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Stop fussing, little brother.” Gabriel shrugged him off. “The hospital is where I’m headed anyway...it’ll just be another scar.”
“We’ll accompany you,” Raphael offered, jerking back a little when his brother held up a hand against him.
“No,” he said fiercely. “I have my carriage. The plan hasn’t changed, Raphael, so you must go. And if you do something impetuous and get yourself killed, I’ll follow you into the afterlife and make your eternity a living hell.”
“Brothers.” The Duchesse made an amused sound that no one seemed to mark.
“I will meet you.” Gabriel thrust a finger at his brother. “London isn’t safe for you to show your face anymore.”
Raphael stormed forward in protest. “But how can I—”
“Ca suffit, Raphael!” he snarled, causing everyone to start. That’s enough. His enormous shoulders sagged, and he placed a hand against the wall as if he needed it to hold him up for a moment. “Just let this be easy for once. Let me not have to fight. I’m so fucking tired of fighting. Just...go. So I can follow. Vive la vie.”
Live life.
Mercy held her breath as she watched Raphael do the same, she watched the war wage within him. Love and worry for his brother, the need to survive...
Finally, he nodded. “Vive la vie.”
The leviathan paused for an imperceptible moment and Mercy thought his gaze might have shifted back to Felicity.
It was impossible not to have soft feelings for her sister, even for a man as hard as he.
Finally, he strode away so straight and tall, one might not even notice the drops of blood he left behind.
The shadows seemed to welcome him as one of their own, and Mercy stared into them long after his shape had disappeared.
Not because of the man who’d slid into their embrace, but because of the man behind her. The one whose embrace she craved the very most.
The one who was leaving.
Suddenly she wished the world would disappear, so she could give him a proper goodbye.
“Raphael.” It was the Duchesse who said his name. “Gabriel told me that you two have Mathilde’s ashes. That you have booked tickets to take her to places that were special. Places that we—she and I—were planning to visit together.”
Needing to see him, Mercy turned and found his eyes upon her even as he replied to the Duchesse. “That was...on our itinerary, yes.”
She stepped forward, a proud woman unused to asking for favors. “It seems providential, don’t you think, that she and I were planning on taking my ship around the world. That we were going to lose ourselves, or perhaps find ourselves in foreign ports. If you are in need of losing yourself as well...I think Mathilde would have been happy for us to keep each other company and remember her.”
“Duchesse,” he said carefully. “I am honored...I...”
“I think you may call me Amelie. I would prefer to put my days as a Duchesse behind me.” She pulled off her mask as if freeing herself from a mantle borne too long. Flicking a coy gaze at Mercy, she said, “I will go to my little boat to have the staff ready it. We will be prepared to stop and gather anything or...anyone you may wish to take with you before we board my ship.”
“Merci,” Raphael breathed, looking a little dazed.
Above them, in the keep, Mercy was aware of an inferno eating at a piece of precious history.
And it felt like a candle compared to what burned in her bosom as she looked at him.
“This is your chance at freedom.” She summoned a smile from somewhere, pasting it onto her stiff and brittle lips. “I have...much to thank you for.”
She glanced to Morley, who stood looking rather uncomfortable, though whether from their conversation or the weight of the woman in his arms, it was difficult to tell.
“Well.” She smoothed down her dress, soiled by the extraordinary events of the night. “If you ever do come back to London, I can’t promise I’ll still be at Cresthaven. But you can find me Thursdays at the Eddard Sharpe Society. I hope you’ll...that we’ll...see each other.”
Dammit, was she going to cry? Not in front of him. Anything but that.
Why did her heart have to choose now to break?
Why did saying goodbye seem like the worst thing that would ever happen to her?
Raphael reached for her, the backs of his knuckles brushing away a tear she’d not been aware had escaped.
“You look so bereft, I might weep,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling with a smile that hadn’t yet made it to his mouth. “It’s as though you thought you were not invited along.”
She blinked one. Twice. Her heart forgetting to beat as she analyzed his words.
“Are you asking me to...go? As in...with you?” Surely, she’d misheard.
“No.” He stepped closer. Never had she seen such emotion in his eyes. Such unmistakable meaning. “I’m asking for so much more than that. I’m asking for everything.”
She drew back, pressing her hand to her forehead. “This can’t be real. You were just about to—to allow yourself to be killed not an hour ago and now you’re...you’re...what?”
Not proposing, surely.
“The only reason I contemplated leaving this world, Mercy, is to save the one person who has ever loved me. I thought no reality existed where I’d get to hope for a life that could offer a woman like you.” He gathered her hands, lifting each knuckle to drag beneath a worshipful kiss. “I don’t want to leave this world if you’re a part of it. Because you’re a part of me, whether you love me back or not.”
She choked on her own breath and spasmed in a flurry of coughs. “I’m sorry. Did you say...love?”
“I said love.” He nodded, unabashedly. “I give you my heart, used and damaged as it might be. I offer you my soul, black as it is. My money, which is an obscene amount.” He grinned impishly, producing that bloody dimple.
Lord, but he didn’t play fair.
“My body is yours in every way. My protection. My trust.” He cupped her chin in his hand, and it humiliated her to find that more tears pooled in the grooves of his palm. “I would give my life, if only for a moment beneath the sun that is your smile. Your grace. Your passion. Come with me, Mercy. Let me prove that I can deserve you.”
She sniffed, so overwhelmed she felt as if she might simply float across the water like one of the gondolas. Desire so overwhelming swept her breath out of her lungs. This was what she wanted. This man. This life.
She opened her mouth as her heart sank. “I...I can’t leave Felicity.”
“Go,” urged a weak voice.
She whirled to find her sister on her feet, leaning heavily on Morley, who had been astonishingly silent and stoic through the entire ordeal.
“What did you say?” Her blood was still for a full moment, while the person she held most dear looked her in the eyes with steady resolution.
And not a little bit melancholy.
“I cannot be your other half forever. You always needed more than that.”
“Felicity! You can’t think—”
When Mercy would have gone to her, Felicity stopped her with one gesture. “He loves you. And I’ll be all right. I have Morley, Pru, Nora, and Titus, and it’s not like you’ll be gone forever. Perhaps I’ll visit you in exotic places?”
Was she truly contemplating this madness? “But our parents...I can’t leave you to face them in the wake of such a decision.”
“I’ll deal with them,” Morley sighed, running an exhausted hand over his face. “Prudence will have my neck in a noose for this.”
Suddenly her heart was pounding. Throbbing. Threatening to gallop away like a herd of stampeding horses.
“Surely you’re not agreeing to this, Morley.” She gestured at Raphael, not trusting herself to look at him. “Have you forgotten he’s a thief? A ne’er-do-well? A profligate libertine I’ve known all of five minutes?”
“A lesser man would be wounded.” Raphael placed a hand over his heart as if she’d pierced it.
“I was once all of those things.” Morley stared hard at the man who offered his heart to her. “I believe we do not have to be what our circumstances would have made for us. We can forge our own path. We can choose to be better.”
“All I want to be is worthy of her,” Raphael said with such vehemence, she found new tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.
Morley nodded his approval. “London could be made safe for you... It would take some doing. Some time to change the narrative, to see where the balance of power shifts when all is said and done. Longueville will need seeing to. Leave that to me.”
“Everyone’s gone mad,” Mercy realized.
Including her. Because she was actually contemplating this. Leaving her home. Her twin. Her other beloved sisters and nieces and brothers-in-law.
For the journey she’d always yearned for.
To share with a man who was beginning to mean everything to her.
Felicity drifted forward and enfolded her in an embrace, her body trembling with valiantly unshed tears. “You’re miserable here, Mercy. We all know it. Our parents will return, and you’ll be locked in a battle that will only end in a disastrous marriage or with you disavowed. You’ve always talked of independence. A grand adventure. This might be your one chance to claim it.”
“What will you do? Might you come with us?” Mercy offered.
Felicity shook her head. “Mercy, for once, stop worrying about me. I’m grown, perhaps it’s time I step away from your shadow. I’ll toddle along. It’ll be fine, just...promise me you’ll write. All the time.”
Mercy must have nodded, because Felicity kissed her, then turned to take Raphael’s hand. “And you promise to make her happy?”
He pressed a fond kiss to her knuckles. “It’s all I want, petite sœur.”
“She’s not easy.”
“I’m still right here, I’ll have you know,” Mercy said with no little indignation.
Raphael flashed his most charming, cocksure grin. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
Mercy dashed away every tear, not knowing if she was infatuated or infuriated. “You’re getting ahead of yourselves. I haven’t even agreed to go anywhere!”
Felicity and Raphael shared a knowing smile that lit her temper. “What did I tell you?”
Raphael winked and let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Unbelievable!” Throwing up her hands, Mercy marched a few paces away, if only to try to chase her unruly emotions.
“Mon chaton.” Raphael caught her, and the feel of his strong fingers threading with hers stunned her to stillness.
Not just rooting her feet to the ground but weaving something undeniable through the pads of her fingers, threading up the veins in her arm, and pouring into her heart. From there, it pulsed into the rest of her with every beat.
It was him. His name. His face.
The love that shined there when she turned back to find them alone beneath the earth.
“I can’t explain it, after only knowing you such a short time,” he said with the earnestness of a youth shining on the face of a brutal man who’d never been blessed with a childhood. “But I know I’ve always been some sort of empty vessel, and I think I understand why my entire life I’ve never felt whole.” He pressed his hand to her heart, the palm warm as he seemed to savor what he found there. “I am not me. I am we. Us. That feels complete. My heart only seems to beat when you are near. I stand before you. No. I kneel at your feet.”
He hit his knees, pressing his forehead to her fingers as if paying tribute to a goddess. “I am a man stripped of pride and wit. Of everything that gave me power. This is what I offer you. A new start. I’m asking—I’m begging—not for your forgiveness. Not for your mercy. But for you. Mercy. For you. Will you be mine? Wi
ll you let me call myself yours?”
She studied his face for a hint of artifice, and what she found there broke open something inside of her that exploded into incandescent sparks of the purest exhilaration. Life with this man. Discovery. Travel. Adventure. Pleasure.
Love.
Wasn’t that worth any sort of risk?
A sliver of doubt dimmed his smile. “I know you didn’t want to be the property of man, Mercy. And I’d never ask that of you. You own me heart and soul, but I don’t think I’d love you this passionately, if you could truly be possessed—”
“Stop.” She seized him and pulled him to his feet. “Stop. I cannot take any more joy or it’ll split me apart. Of course, I’m going with you. Of course, I’m yours. I was yours the moment you kissed me, you dolt. Now do it again before I change my mind.”
With a smile brilliant enough to illuminate the night, he swept her in his arms and claimed her mouth, sealing their bargain with a kiss that was impossible to maintain through their unrelenting smiles.
“Come,” he urged, linking his arms with hers. “Let us leave all this chaos behind.”
They walked hand in hand through the shadows of the dark night, knowing that their brilliant future lay just on the other side.
Epilogue
Raphael broke through the surface of the warm waters off the Antiguan coast with a mighty surge of his limbs. The sun felt like the very smile of God on his face, and he wiped the ocean from his eyes to be greeted by a view that never ceased to strike him with pure wonder.
The gleaming white sands and the indescribably clear blue water provided the perfect backdrop for a tangle of vibrant vegetation and exotic trees. The opulent Villa de la Sol was part Spanish cathedral, part Persian palace, resplendent in the noonday brilliance.
But what made this place paradise, was the goddess draped in a hammock beneath a tasseled umbrella.
The sight of her humbled him into stillness, and Raphael treaded water, taking advantage of a rare moment to observe his wife unaware.
He woke every morning anxious to make certain he hadn’t dreamed his good fortune. Mercy Goode had consented to make an honest man of him at sea—provided they omitted the part about her obeying or submitting to her husband.
Dancing With Danger Page 17
