Page 78 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
Hannah blinked. Why? Because it had to be her fault. If it was her fault, then everything was fair and made sense and the world was livable. The losses were survivable.
Including Sol. Not that he was ever hers to lose.
She heaved a sigh and admitted the truth. “Because that’s the only way I know how to stand it. That’s the only way I can bear it all.” And everything in her crumbled. “Including losing him,” she whispered.
“Let me.” Tamar wrapped her arms around Hannah, holding her against her chest. “Please,” she murmured against Hannah’s hair. “I’m not a child any longer. Please let me love you and protect you back.” She kissed the top of Hannah’s head. “And tell you when you’re being an arrogant fool.”
“That’s what he called me,” she said between sobs. “But I’m not. I’m not at all. I love him too much to let him throw away his life for me.”
And there. She’d said the words. Out loud. Admitting them to herself and—she inhaled—it hurt, god it hurt—not the love, but the loss, acute and sharp beneath her breast. How was she going to stand living without him?
She wasn’t sure how long she leaned against her sister and cried, but when she was finally able to swipe her eyes on her sleeve, her throat was dry and raw.
She gazed up at Tamar. “Being with him could hurt you too,” she finally shared. “His brother made it veryclear that I was not welcome in their family, and that if I don’t stay away, well, he’ll use his power and influence to get rid of me. And you.”
Which could not—would not happen. No matter what. Love or no love.
“Did you tell Sol this?” Tamar asked as Hannah sat up fully.
“No,” she confessed, smoothing her hair as best she could, twisting and repinning it. She’d tried—not very well, she could admit—to hint at his brother being a threat, but Sol didn’t seem to believe Frederick capable of such a thing.
“So he could talk to his brother and change his mind,” her sister suggested, as if it were so easy.
Hannah adjusted the buttons on her gown. “He’s… not that kind of man. He knows our world too well.” Tamar lifted an eyebrow. Well, might as well tell her the whole of it. “He hired me to do the same sort of work I did for Ned. And he’s marrying the sister of a titled gentile now. He and his wife would be snubbed if they were associated with me,” she explained with a sigh. “And me being gone—permanently—would be the easiest solution. And then Sol would be forced to choose.”
And she couldn’t do that to him. For either way, he’d hate himself.
“So you and his brother made the choice for him?” Tamar asked with a pout.
“We’re protecting him,” she said firmly. “Each in our own way.” Whether or not she agreed with Frederick’s methods.
“No, you’re both arrogant,” Tamar snapped. She pursed her lips. “And you’re also scared.” She shook her head. “I just can’t figure out if you’re more scared thathe’ll choose his brother or that he’ll choose you.” She swiped a loose strand of hair off Hannah’s forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “I suspect the latter.”
It was Hannah’s turn to pout. “Of course I’m scared. I’ll make him miserable,” she said. “How could I not? He might think it’s romantic in the moment, but in the end, when he realizes the extent of what I cost him, he’ll come to resent me, and watching that happen… I’m not strong nor brave enough.”
Blast it all, her eyes were misting again. She swiped at them with her bare hand.
“I think you are,” Tamar said, taking Hannah’s hands in hers. “You’re the strongest, bravest person I know.” Her voice caught, and in an instant, Hannah threw her arms around her sister, holding her like she’d done so many times over the years.
Except this time, it was Hannah who was scared. Terrified.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “Even if I was brave, he’s done with me now.”
“I’m not so sure, but now is not the time to argue more,” Tamar whispered as she stroked Hannah’s hair. “You should sleep. And when you have your strength, we can revisit this discussion and perhaps you’ll see another perspective.”
She opened her mouth to protest—to tell her sister that it was highly unlikely that her “perspective” would change—but only a yawn came out.
Blast, they had work to do. There were fires to tend and chores and a shop to open. However, she was tired. So very tired.
“Only for a moment,” she said to Tamar as she closed her eyes. Then she fell into a deep sleep.
