There was a pause, in which he crawled out from under the hedge and stood. Looking up, he could see her dark figure half-hanging out the window. “Meet me at the garden gate in five minutes.”
She withdrew back inside and he thought for a moment she wasn’t going to answer. Then suddenly she was out again.
“But if we’re caught, do you swear that you’ll marry me?” she asked.
He stopped. There were worse fates. “Yes. I swear on my mother’s grave.”
She didn’t answer right away, but he heard her intake of breath. “I believe you.” Then she leaned back into the window, grabbing the sash to pull the glass back into place. “Go to the alley on the left. You can’t miss the gate.”
“Cordelia,” he called, tugging at his coat. “I need you to help me—”
“I know,” she answered. “I’ll be right down.”
How could she possibly know? Shaking his head, he started for the gate.
He found it easily enough but it was several minutes before Cordelia made her way down. He nearly missed her in the dark as she wore a long cloak with a hood. “Probably wise. Your outfit will help keep you from being discovered.”
She paused on the path, lowering the hood. “That is one of the many advantages.”
He quirked a brow. “What would the others be?”
Cordelia’s fingers pressed to her cheeks. “It’s quite warm.”
Malice wanted to further question her. She was clearly embarrassed about something. It was in her tone, her hunched shoulders. But there were more pressing matters. “Thank you for meeting me.”
She gave her head a small shake. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Why?” His gut twisted.
A sliver of moonlight came out as she nibbled at her lip. “We could be caught. I don’t relish marrying a man who was forced into the match.”
He reached out and took her hand. “I know. You want a man to woo you.”
She allowed him to pull her closer. “You make it sound silly.”
“It isn’t silly at all, wanting to feel loved. I understand it completely.” Her cloak brushed his jacket and he wrapped a gentle arm about her back. “I’m sorry…” He stopped, realizing what he was about to say.
“What are you sorry for?” she asked, tilting her head back.
When she looked up at him like that, Malice couldn’t hold the words in. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a better proposal. You deserve the best sort. I just, I’m not sure I’m capable. My heart is damaged, Cordelia.” Maybe forever.
She reached up and touched his face. Not wearing any gloves, her velvet-soft fingertips made his heart beat wildly in his chest. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
“I do,” he whispered and then he leaned down to place a light kiss on that lovely mouth. “I saw the way McKenzie was holding you tonight. He wants to lay claim.”
She shuddered, pulling away. “That’s absurd.”
“It isn’t.” He tightened his hands on her waist. “Did he schedule another meeting?”
Cordelia swallowed, her delicate throat working. “He asked about my calling hours. But…” Her voice trailed off.
“I don’t like him, Cordelia. There is something off there that I can’t quite put my finger on. My name might be Malice but that man is cold.”
She slid her fingers down to his neck, resting her palm against his skin. “But not you, you’re warm.”
Bending down again, he captured her lips in the dark night. “I’d keep you warm, yes. All through the long English winter.”
She kissed him back, reaching up to hold him with her other hand. “What happens when you tire of me? I am, after all, only suitable.”