Tarnished Knight - By Bec McMaster Page 0,43

blood-letting. He still drank most of his blood cold but it was becoming easier for him to control himself. And perhaps the fear of hurting her had been greater than the actual risk. No matter how much the hunger took him, even his darker side seemed protective of her.

“You should come outside,” he said. “Got somethin’ to show you.”

“I have to get dinner on.” Still, she leaned into his embrace as his lips traced the side of her neck. “Perhaps… Perhaps just for a moment.” A gasp, and then he let her go.

“Asked Lena to cook,” he said. “You deserve an afternoon off and what I got to show you might take more than a moment.”

Esme turned in his arms. “A present?”

A look of amusement softened the harshness of his face. “You’re getting’ greedy.”

He’d been showering her with gifts ever since he’d gotten her back. Books he found in the markets, pieces of ribbon, a pair of mink gloves that must have cost him a small fortune… The gifts were overwhelming but Esme hadn’t had the heart to chide him. She saw the pleasure he took in finding something to please her and knew that he’d never had that before. Someone to lavish his attention on. Warm arms that opened every time he turned to her. And a smile and kiss especially for him.

Her gentle giant. So fierce on the outside and strangely soft beneath.

“Show me,” she whispered.

With an almost boyish smile, Rip slipped his mech fingers through hers and led her to the door. The gesture wasn’t lost on her.

Outside the children were playing, Meggie watching wistfully from the stoop as Lark pushed Charlie facedown and shoved a handful of snow down the back of his shirt. He might be a blue blood now but Lark knew every dirty trick in the book.

Skirting the yard, Rip led her to the old stables. “Turn around,” he murmured.

“Why?”

A silk scarf untangled in his fingers and then he wrapped it across her eyes, effectively blindfolding her. The silk whispered over her skin. Esme sucked in a sharp breath as he knotted it behind her head. “John?”

“Trust me.”

“Always,” she admitted, letting him take her hand again. He led her forward and Esme hesitantly followed.

“There’s a step,” he murmured, trying to help her.

Esme’s boots slipped on the edge and she stumbled. In the next second he’d swung her up into his arms.

“That’s better.”

“I agree,” she replied, resting her fingertips against his chest. His heartbeat clipped along at a good pace. Strange. As though he was nervous.

The door clicked shut and Rip shoved the latch into place. Locking them in. Even through the sudden fall of darkness, Esme could sense light flickering. Perhaps candles.

“John, what are you up to?”

“You can take the blindfold off now,” he said simply.

Esme tugged it free as he put her down, her eyes widening as she took in the room. It was transformed. All of the stored furniture was gone, replaced by a handful of tasteful carved pieces and a gold damask curtain that draped across half of the room, teasingly beckoning at something beyond. Hundreds of small candles had been placed in old jars until she felt like she stood in the centre of a chandelier. They tracked over every available surface and a path of them led toward the curtain.

“What—What does it all mean?” she whispered, turning in circles and examining the room. It looked almost like a sitting room, with the old fireplace cleaned out and a pair of embroidered sofas sitting on a rug.

“Thought we needed a place to ourselves,” Rip said, one hand resting on the low-hanging beam overhead. He watched her carefully, as though trying to scrutinise her expression. “Yet it’s close to the house – nice and safe. Just--” And here he stumbled, hints of red creeping up his cheekbones as his eyes dropped. “If you wanted. Thought the pair of us…”

The words trailed off.

“I love it,” she said, still turning in small circles. She loved the Warren with all its hectic noise and laughter, but she had never had a place of her own. Somewhere just for them.

“You do?” He let out a relieved breath and followed her as she headed toward the curtain.

“What are you hiding behind here?” She yanked it back and stared at the enormous white cast-iron bed, with its pristine pink-and-white quilt and the mound of fluffy pillows. Candles trailed over the polished secretariat and the enormous copper bath in the corner. A new spigot gleamed in the