Page 92 of To Harm and To Heal
“She would,” Roland agreed. “And besides, Dinah’s probably already poisoned him.”
“Probably,” Mae agreed, and took another bite of flaky, Venetian perfection with a sigh. “What time do we have to be at the docks?”
“Not until sunset,” he assured her, taking his mug and sipping at it. “Though here, I think we are always technically at the docks.”
She gave a dreamy smile, nodding in agreement. “I propose we enjoy the canals for this last day, then. One more trip through the city, to see our favorite parts one last time.”
“If that is what you wish,” he agreed easily. “But know that if you ever want to return here, you have only to ask. Leaving London once was the hard part. Leaving next time will be much easier.”
“Do you think so?” she mused. “I thought I’d be coiled tight as a copper wire this whole time, worried about the clinic, but I haven’t worried about it much at all. As soon as the sailors tossed the ropes from the dock that day on the Thames, it was as though I realized that the world continues to turn whether I’m there to tell it to do so or not.”
“Don’t undersell your part in the spinning,” he said, licking powdered sugar from his fingers. “You built a foundation under your own competence before you trusted the building to stand without you there to hold it on your shoulders. And it took quite a lot of doing, if I recall correctly. And I always do, you know. Recall correctly.”
“Of course you do,” she answered fondly. “Because you know everything.”
“Because I know everything,” he agreed, and leaned forward to give her a sugar-dusted kiss on the lips.
She stifled a little yawn as he pulled back, considering the frothy swirl of her coffee and the sweetness that lingered on her lips.
He looked angelic just now, cradled in the early-morning light, so at ease and unguarded in her bed as he ate torn pastry and sipped at sweetened, warm coffee. The sheets looked translucent, gathered up around him like gauzy waves at sea, lapping at the muscled shape of his thighs in those overly tight trousers he favored so well.
Mae blinked, a thread of mischief winding its way through her chest, warm and thrumming.
“Perhaps we visit the canals in an hour or two,” she amended, setting her cup of coffee on the little table next to the thimble and duckling and turning to crawl toward him. “Perhaps we properly say goodbye to this room that held us so well, first and foremost.”
“Oh?” he said, his eyes glittering as he watched her come closer. “Are you certain? If you come any closer, I’m going to ruin your braids again, you know.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said, pushing the tray down to clear the path into his lap. “You’ll fix them after, won’t you?”
“Oh, I suppose I could,” he said, grinning as she plucked the mug from his fingers and set it aside, replacing all the delicacies of breakfast with only herself to be enjoyed. “It seems a small price to pay.”
“Well, then, Mr. Reed,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “It is decided.”
He caught her around the waist, drawing her close and making her giggle as he sprawled her over his lap.
Right before he kissed her, he looked into her eyes for a very long time, sighed lovingly, and said, “Mae.”
“Yes, Roland?”
“Do not call me Mr. Reed.”
