ALICE
The bandit falls silent, and I work quietly, a little embarrassed by my honesty.
“I missed you.” I stare at his stomach as I remove the last of the drying blood. “I kept thinking you were going to return. Kept hoping. I thought…well, I thought we were becoming friends. You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Alice…”
“Will you answer one question?”
He nods slowly, wincing as he raises his hand to the makeshift bandage.
“I understand why you didn’t visit me…but did you want to?” I hold my breath, preparing myself for disappointment.
He stares at me, looking torn.
“Is it that difficult to answer?” I look at my blood-stained hands. “There are only two possible responses: yes or no?”
“Yes,” he says, the word sounding like it was dragged right from his lungs. Like it was painful.
I meet his eyes, feeling my heart squeeze.
He sits up, which puts our faces very close. “Yes,” he says again, and this time it doesn’t sound like it’s ripping him apart. “I’ve thought of you every day, Alice.”
My heart pinches, making me worry I’m growing too attached to this man of secrets.
I move my eyes to the bandage. I panicked when I saw him walking toward the manor, worried he had to be close to death in that state.
But the wound, though ghastly, is nowhere as severe as I feared when he showed up covered in blood. Once I cleaned the area, I found the gash to be manageable enough, though he will need it stitched in the morning. At least it’s wrapped now.
I stand, and the bandit lowers his legs over the side of the bed.
“Don’t move too quickly,” I warn, gathering my supplies, trying not to think of the way the water has been stained deep pink. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
He watches me as I walk to the basin and wash my hands. How am I going to explain this mess to Regina in the morning?
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I glance back at the masked man, wondering if I’ll have to.
It’s Brahm on my bed. I know it—I’d have to be a fool not to recognize him.
But why has the marquis created this secret identity? And how do I explain his ears? They’re hidden under the mask now, but his deep brown hair is mussed just as Brahm’s was when I knocked on his door the night we walked into the forest—as if the marquis had been wearing a hat only moments before.
Once my hands are clean, I walk back to him. “How are you feeling? Feverish at all?”
Before I place my palm against his forehead, the bandit gently catches my hand and pulls me to him. It’s a languid movement, and yet it speaks volumes.
Like lovers, we’re close. His legs brush mine. Unsure what to do with my free hand, I clench it into a fist behind my back, sternly telling myself I will not explore his bare skin with my fingers, no matter how tempted I might be.
He brings the inside of my wrist to his lips. “Thank you for tending me, Alice.”
The gesture makes me flush, the warmth beginning in my cheeks and then traveling down my neck.
When I realize he means to rise, I press down on his shoulders, making him remain seated. “You’re leaving?”
He studies me in the candlelight. “We both know I can’t stay.”
“But you can’t go, not like this. Sleep for a while. I’ll wake you when you must leave.”
Smiling as he rubs his thumb over my knuckles, he drops his voice and says, “How will I sleep with you hovering over me?”