A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

She drew away. In the darkness, he saw only the glint of her eyes and the pale oval of her face. “I love you. Whoever you are. Whatever you call yourself. Whoever your father was.” She sounded as decisive as she had when she’d reproached him for misjudging his mother. “You’re a wonderful man, Richard. Kind. Perceptive. Clever. Resourceful. Brave. Handsome enough to turn any girl’s head. That’s what matters. Not what your parents did.”

With an unsteady hand, he brushed the tears from her cheeks. A lifetime of self-doubt melted under the blaze of Genevieve’s love. With a few words, she’d made him anew. He tried to sound insouciant, but his voice cracked. “If the paragon and angel Genevieve Barrett rates me so highly, how can I argue?”

Her smile was shaky. “Now come back into the light.”

He wanted to tell her that she’d already drawn him from stygian darkness into light. Instead, he kissed her as he’d never kissed her before. She was the most precious thing in the world. He cherished her. He honored her. He loved her more than he ever thought he’d love anyone in his heedless, selfish life. Passion burned. He couldn’t touch her without passion. But deeper than passion at this moment ran tenderness, care, his delight in her existence.

They returned to the stone tomb and the guttering candle. Genevieve fumbled in her pocket for the second candle, lighting it from the dying flame.

She smiled at Richard as if she believed he was a hero. Silently he promised her that he’d never let her down. “I now understand why you love Sirius so much.”

Confused, he stared at her. “He’s a fine dog.”

“He’s a fine dog of unspecified

breeding with a stalwart heart. You’re kindred spirits.”

“My darling, that’s hardly flattering to my noble hound,” he said thickly, then frowned and glanced around. “Speaking of Sirius, where is he?”

Concern replaced her smile. “He’s been away a long time.”

The thought of Sirius coming to grief in this labyrinth was unendurable. Raising the candle, Richard set out ahead of Genevieve into the looming darkness.

Richard’s calls summoned only echoes, no bark of recognition. The crypt was huge, a vaulted maze of pillars and tombs and gargoyles fit to give the most prosaic man nightmares.

At last they reached the chamber’s end. Genevieve turned to him in frustration. “He can’t disappear into thin air. If he hears you calling, he’ll come.”

That was true. Sirius’s manners belied his humble background. “Let’s follow this wall and see what we find.”

The wall proved impossibly long. Richard began to loathe the industrious monks. With every step, he called to Sirius. Genevieve progressed more slowly behind him, her hand running along the bricks. He bowed to her knowledge of medieval architecture, but a secret passage seemed too much to hope for.

Although she’d just said that she loved him. Miracles could be the order of the day.

“Sirius!” Where the devil was the mutt?

The wall took an illogical turn. Or perhaps Richard’s senses failed after all this meandering. When he raised the candle, another line of stone columns extended ahead. “Sirius!”

Silence. Richard started down the hall. A hundred yards down, he heard something in the distance. Could that be a bark? He called again. In this restricted space, sound reverberated, distorting response.

Genevieve joined him. “Is that Sirius?”

“I don’t know.” He called as loudly as he could. Echoes made it impossible to tell if Sirius answered. Richard stepped forward, then halted. The scrabble of paws was unmistakable. “Listen.”

“Is it him?”

“Either it’s Sirius or the rats are big enough to eat us.” He lifted her hand and kissed it, then passed her the candle. “Sirius!”

Sirius leaped from several feet away, crashing Richard onto the terracotta tiles.

“You’re a deuced troublesome fellow, you hairy rogue.” Richard laughed under the uproarious welcome, although his arm protested the boisterous greeting. Then abruptly all desire to laugh fled. “Good God.”

“What is it, Richard?” The candle lit Genevieve’s face from below, lending her a haunted look.

He sat up with new energy. “Sirius’s coat. It’s wet.”

Richard’s joyful reunion with Sirius melted Genevieve’s heart. No wonder she loved this man. She bent to pat Sirius’s shaggy head. The stink of wet dog overpowered the pervasive dust. “Found a puddle, have you?”

Richard’s eyes held a strange light. “Darling, you’re not thinking this through. If he’s wet, he’s found water.”