Page 120 of Traitor Son

“Wife—” Remin began, rising from his seat. “If you would just read—”

Her eyes fell on the parchment on the table beside him. His will, wrapped in ribbons, witnessed and sealed, his intent in writing that she could take his life and go unpunished. And just like that, she knewwhy.

He was giving her this chance to kill him. He was giving her every possible reassurance that she could do so without repercussion. He had done it because he desperately hopedshe would not.

Ophele lunged past him and thrust the parchment into the fire.

“No,” she said, whirling to face him, throwing out her arms to keep him from retrieving it. “No, I won’t. I won’t,ever.I—I swear…” Frantically, she searched for words, any words, magic words that would once and for all remove all the doubt and fear from his heart. “I can’t promise for my father, or Lady Hurrell, or anyone else, but Remin…I swear, I swear if I ever lay my hands on you with violence, may all the stars in heaven strike me dead. I never will. I swear. Iswear.”

Those were his words. That was the oath he had made to her the first night they came to the valley, a spell of protection. Tears streaked hotly down her cheeks as she gazed up at him, but even with her eyes blurring, she saw the change in his face.

“You’ll—you’ll be safe if you do it,” he began, wavering. One hand gripped the back of a chair as if he needed the support. “There’s another copy, Edemir has it—”

“I don’t care. I’ll burn that, too.” Her voice cracked as she swiped at her eyes. “This is my chance to kill you, right? Without any punishment. I could be rich. I could go anywhere, and—and I won’t, I won’t, I don’t want to! Remin, I won’t,ever—”

He took a stumbling step toward her and she wasn’t sure if he pulled her down or if she fell with him, but he dragged her against him, his hands gripping so tight they hurt. He wanted to believe her. Oh, how he wanted to believe, she could feel it in his desperate grasp, the way his fingers trembled as he held her. This was the greatest test of his life. Not whether he had the courage to offer his throat to her, the daughter of his enemy, and risk everything he had to ask her this question.

The test was whether he had the strength to believe her answer.

“I won’t,” she repeated. She didn’t even realize she was sobbing. “I won’t. I really won’t, I’d sooner go in the Brede—”

“Don’t say something so terrible. I can’t—you won’t. You really won’t?” He sounded strangely breathless, his voice more wavering and uncertain than she had ever heard it. “You’re not…tricking me?”

“No. Never.” Her hands reached to cup his face, to look straight into his black eyes and let him see her own, transparent as glass and filled with certainty enough to sustain them both. She could promise him this. She could promise him this with all her heart. “Remin.Never.”

His eyes flickered as if he had been struck. He twisted his head out of her hands and his throat worked, his chest giving a traitorous quiver before he managed to suck everything in and shove it down hard, hiding it all behind the cold, stern mask of his face.

“All right,” he whispered after a moment, catching her to roughly wipe away her tears. “All right, I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry, I had to…I had to be sure. I’m sorry, wife. I…believe you.”

“You do?” she asked, looking up at him with fresh tears welling. “If my father does something terrible, you won’t hate me again?”

“No,” he said huskily. “No, he has nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.”

His arms went around her and he all but crushed her against the wall of his chest, a place so solid and safe that it was inconceivable that it could ever cease to be. His heart pounded frantically under her ear, but that was all right as long as it was still strong and beating, and the warm, masculine scent of his body was so comforting. And gradually his heart slowed, and her tears ended, and his deep voice rumbled through his chest under her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, stroking her hair. “I couldn’t think of any other way. It was driving me mad, wondering, and I never really thought you would, but I…I couldn’t stop imagining…but that’s not your fault. I will make it right, I swear. Every grief I’ve given you, I will repay. Ophele, I love you.” He pushed her back gently to look into her face. “I love you so much. I hope one day to make you love me.”

His gaze was as stern and direct as ever, as if he meant to win her love with the same awkward, stubborn, touching persistence with which he had dedicated himself to taking care of her after her sun sickness. Locking themboth in the cottage, Ophele a captive in her bed while he interrogated her about her shoes. It made her laugh and cry at the same time.

How could she tell him anything but the truth, when he had just bared his heart to her?

“You remind me of a bear,” she whispered, her fingers stroking his high, arrogant cheeks. She loved every part of his face, from his tip-tilted eyes to his thick black brows, so quick to frown. “From the first day we met. Remember, when you pulled me out of the tree? You looked just like a bear, your hair, and your eyes. And you grumble like a bear. And I was scared, at first, but you were so nice that day in Granholme, and so I thought…”

Her eyes went to the glass bear on the mantle above them, small and melancholy, with one large paw outstretched.

“I like bears,” she whispered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“Oh.” Remin blinked, looking from her to the bear and back again, his dark eyes wide. “Ophele. Ophele…”

She hadn’t dared to hope that he would kiss her again. That slow, considering kiss that she had never forgotten, his lips brushing hers so steadily, it was as if he was mapping their terrain, learning every contour. And she wanted him to learn it. No land had ever yielded itself so completely to Remin Grimjaw, her soft mouth moving to match his, following his lead, sensitive to his growing urgency.

It was like falling. It was like drowning. She could feel the waves, warm and dark, a churning heat that matched the rhythm of his stroking tongue, a tangling wet roil. The grip of his hands matched the motions of his mouth, holding her so tight against him she could feel his ribs expanding when he breathed, deep and ragged. They breathed together. They fell together. They drowned together.

“Wife,” he whispered against her lips. “May I share your bed tonight?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Everything was hazy and her lips were tingling, almost bruised from the intensity of his kiss. She wanted more. Her head nodded and she felt his hands at her back, tugging at the laces of her dress. His mouth kissing her neck, her shoulders, deep, hungry kisses that almost hurt, devouring kisses of teeth and searing hot breath. Her gown pooled on the floor and Remin slid his hands under her chemise, sliding it up her body and over her head.

Her arms automatically lifted to cover her breasts, but in this golden dream, suddenly it didn’t seem like something she should be ashamed of. Looking up at him, she thought she wanted to be naked for him. The look in his black eyes made her shiver inside. And she wanted him to be naked for her.

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