With his heart thumping in his chest, he walked towards the blue paint-chipped door and let himself into the hallway, stood outside the entrance to the shabby room that held a treasured place in his heart.
Damian raised his hand to knock, paused when he imagined being met by a toothless hag with a babe at her breast. He shook the picture from his head and rapped on the door.
With the noise of the street echoing in the hallway, it was impossible to hear the pad of footsteps, to hear the sweet voice he hoped would bid him entry. But he stared at the doorknob, his pulse racing as he watched it turn.
Scarlett opened the door, a nervous smile playing on her lips. She wore a simple day dress in a dull, moss green. Her ebony hair hung over her shoulder in a single braid.
God, she was so beautiful.
“One must do one’s best to blend in when walking the alleys in Covent Garden,” she said, gesturing to her plain skirt. “Won’t you come in, Damian?”
“If we’re to reinvent the moment lost to us three years ago, should I not drape my arm around your shoulder and let you settle me into bed?” He had been incoherent that night. Now, for the first time in his life, his mind was sharp. Lucid.
Scarlett arched a coy brow, looked just as eager to play this game. “As long as you don’t intend to spew brandy over my boots.”
“Love, I have the funds to buy you a thousand pairs.”
She took a step towards him. “Let me help you, sir. It is but a few feet to the bed.”
Damian grinned. “Wait. There is something I must do first.” He unbuttoned his waistcoat, pushed his fingers between the gap in his shirt and withdrew the gold cross. “Mother, if you are watching from your heavenly plane, send me an angel, someone to love.”
“I don’t remember it being worded quite like that.”
“No, but a mother can hear the secrets in her child’s heart.” He glanced at the cross gripped between his fingers. “You kept it, even though you needed the money. Why?”
“Some things have a value beyond that of material possessions.” Water filled her eyes. “It may not have bought me new boots, but it soothed my soul so many times during the last three years. As does coming here. I leased the room six months ago, and visit often.”
A single tear hit her cheek, and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. He would make it his life’s mission to ensure she never cried again. “How long do you intend to make an injured man wait at the door?” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Your injuries are healed, sir, but I am willing to pretend if you are.”
His mind raced forward to the moment she might cut his breeches and massage his bare thigh. “Just because I am not bleeding from my arm or leg doesn’t mean I am not suffering.”
Curiosity danced in her pretty blue eyes. “Then let me help you to the bed. Let me soothe your woes.”
He made no protest when she captured his wrist and draped his arm around her neck. He limped as she helped him across the threshold, smiled when she kicked the door shut. When he fell onto the small bed, she almost came tumbling down on top of him.
“Now, tell me what ails you.” Scarlett lifted his legs onto the bed and then sat down beside him and stroked a lock of hair from his brow.
“My heart is aching.” He took her hand in his, massaged her palm with his thumb. “Every fibre of my being writhes in torment and agony. Only you can ease my pain.”
Her eyes sparkled like crystal blue waters. “What can I do?”
“You can love me. Love me my whole life. You can marry me. Marry me and bear my children, our children.” He tried not to choke on the sudden surge of emotion. “Marry me as soon as I can purchase a licence, and I believe my symptoms shall subside.”
Her eyes misted, and she pursed her lips. “Are you certain you wish to settle? I’ve spent my life believing no one wants me and I couldn’t bear—”
“I want you. I need you. God, Scarlett, I’ve never been in love. Now I know why. I’ve been saving every ounce of love for you.”
A smile touched her lips. “You love me?”
Damian snorted—a sound between amusement and contempt for his own ignorance. “I believe I have loved you since the day you saved my life.”
She caressed his thigh. “The stitching is remarkably good, even if I say so myself.”
“I am not speaking of the wound. You saved me from a life of emptiness and misery. Thank the Lord—no—thank Maria. Had I not made that oath, I may never have seen you again.”
They stared at each other for a heartbeat.