Page 79 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Soren nods his head. “Me too.”
“I don’t think it was a poacher.”
“Neither do I.”
“I think Dorian might be in danger.”
“I agree.”
Selene takes a careful breath. “I don’t understand,” she admits. “If you believe what I’m telling you, then why aren’t you more angry at me? You must know it’s because of me that Dorian could have…” Her throat starts to narrow.
Soren takes a long time to reply. “Until yesterday, I didn’t think you cared.”
Selene blinks, hoping to disguise the misting of her eyes.“I’m glad all my blubbering served some purpose, then.”
“That it did.” Soren sipped his tea. “He likes you, you know. Quite a lot, I fear.”
“I’m not sure you’re right, there.”
“He…” Soren begins hesitantly. “He’s been hurt in the past. He lost someone very close to him. It affected him in ways that even I don’t fully understand. He’s been guarded ever since.”
Luna.
This makes a sad kind of sense to Selene. So, Dorian had loved someone before, and lost her. No wonder he worked himself to the bone, now. No wonder he was hesitant to start something between them. Perhaps he was thinking of Selene yet again, not wanting her trapped in a marriage with someone who might not be fully capable of loving her back.
Perhaps, perhaps.
“Who was she?” she asks Soren. “The woman he lost?”
Before either of them can say more, Marta’s returning footsteps break their privacy. Soren straightens slightly, his face shifting back toward something closer to his usual unreadable mask.
The carriage rocks to a halt before the steps of Ebonrose Hall, the horses snorting as they settle. Selene gazes up at the ivy-covered visage of the manor, and finds her nerves settling.
Home. Nothing can touch them, here.
Dorian steps down first. He barely has time to help Selene down before Ariella launches herselfat Dorian. Rookwood follows, hobbling after her, and even Aunt Elizabeth has deemed to grace all with her presence.
“I thought—” Ariella’s voice wavers. “When we heard—”
“I’m fine,” Dorian assures her, his hands steady on her shoulders as he gently extricates himself. “Truly, Ari.”
She pulls back, still skeptical. “Where were you injured?”
“The left arm—”
Ariella thumps the right.
“Ow!” Dorian objects. “What was that for?”
“For worrying me!” she fumes.
“I was worried too, for the record,” Rookwood adds. “But I’m not going to hit you.”
“I appreciate that, Rook. Thank you.”
Aunt Elizabeth steps forward next. She clasps Dorian by the shoulders, turning his face slightly to give him the proper appraisal, and nods her head. “Glad to see you’re all right, nephew.”
“I am, Aunt, thank you. But I do wish to go inside. I’ve a lot of work to be getting on with. Ariella—could you send something up to my study?”
