thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
Oh, God. Her eyes slid shut under the weight of those words, spoken as they were with the promise contained within.
Tynan cleared his throat. “I said, ahhhhem.”
Faye followed his stare to the two boys tossing snowballs at each other. John blinked rapidly. “Oh.”
And a half sob, half laugh slipped free that she caught with her spare hand as the child bounded over and added his flower to the others in her hand, forming a tiny bouquet of crimson roses. She gave her head a solemn bow and offered a murmured thanks.
The moment he rushed off to join the other boys at play, and she and Tynan found themselves alone, he took the remaining steps to join her. All the while he spoke, he held her eyes with his.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
Tynan stopped as he reached her, with nothing more than a pace between them. She angled her head back a fraction to hold his stare.
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
And she, who’d never been at a loss for words around this man, found herself failed by them. Because, before he’d left the last time, she’d said everything that was in her heart, and he’d rejected her.
Smoothing his palms along the elegant pleats of his cloak, Tynan rocked back slightly on his heels, endearingly uncertain.
“I love poetry,” he finally said, his breath leaving a cloud of white as he spoke.
Faye cradled the precious blooms, holding them close, protecting them as she was able from the elements.
“I never admitted that because I was ashamed.” He grimaced. “About so much where I and my life have been concerned Faye. What the hell did I have that made me or my life worthwhile? I was a poor boy who didn’t even have a home.” He spoke with the brutal directness of one who didn’t wish pity for the life he’d lived.
As if she could ever pity him.
Her heart twisted for him. “Tynan—”
He shook his head, cutting off the defense of him she desperately wished to make.
“I lied when I said I have nothing to offer you, Faye,” he said quietly. “I thought I didn’t. I spent so many years reminding myself that I wasn’t wealthy enough or powerful enough—”
“None of that matters to me, Tynan,” she whispered, taking the final steps over and erasing the rest of the space between them.
“I know.” He rocked again on his heels. “But it mattered to me. Until…”
He brought a palm up and cupped her cheek, the fine leather of his glove smooth against her cheek. Of their own volition, her lashes slid shut, and she leaned into his touch.
“Until?” she whispered, forcing her eyes open to meet those piercing opaque irises.
“Until you, Faye,” he said. The slight nob of his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I was hiding everything about myself. Every part of myself. And I told myself my reasons for doing so were because of power and the need to be strong because of the work I did and the life I led. But I now know I was scared. You helped me to not be afraid, to want more from this life. Whether or not I am deserving of more.”
Faye caught his hand in hers, crushing the flowers between them. “You are, Tynan,” she said with a determined insistence, willing him to see. “You always have been.” He was a man who’d risen up from the ashes of his life to find stability and security for both himself and his sister.
“I know that now.” At that acknowledgment, his mouth twisted. “I think I’m starting to let myself realize it and believe it. The mistakes I made, the crimes I committed, were born of my fear,” he explained. “I’m not saying that to defend my actions,” he said on a rush. “Because those actions were also fueled by my resentment.”
“You had every reason to be resentful,” she gently pointed out. “You lived in a world that failed you, where you were forced to see those around you live a life of squalor, while the world of Polite Society let your suffering continue.” Her family had been among the ranks of the latter, and all the while, the bulk of their wealth had come from the suffering inflicted upon the real Lord