Dancing With Danger (Goode Girls #3) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,46

reverence there. Something that echoed in his own hollowed-out soul. “She doesn’t move so sharply through the world. So decisively. Her steps are...careful. Her words are soft.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes at his brother. It couldn’t be... “You were at Cresthaven last night watching Felicity Goode? For shame, you voyeur!” He nudged at him with an elbow.

“I am ashamed.” Gabriel refused to be mollified. “I can’t help but wonder if I feature in any of her nightmares.”

“I’m certain she’s forgotten you even exist,” Raphael said over a derisive noise.

That didn’t seem to make it better.

“This isn’t...guilt, is it, brother?” he accused. “You like her. You want her.”

Gabriel had looked at women before, but he’d never watched them. Not like this. He seemed to have come to terms early in life with the fact that his face condemned him to the life of a monk.

“Two brothers tempted by two sisters.” Gabriel made a grunt that might have been humor or grief. “It’s all rather Shakespearean, isn’t it? One of the tragedies, in our case.”

“I’d never love Mercy Goode,” Raphael claimed, wondering why he still felt as though he were lying to his brother. “It wouldn’t be safe for her. But...I didn’t want to leave without...” He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence.

“You’re not being cruel to her, are you? Didn’t leave her with promises that will break her heart?”

That Gabriel even cared surprised him more than he could express.

Ultimately, he shook his head. “No. She is in no need of entanglements. That woman has made it abundantly clear, a man would only get in her way.”

Gabriel nodded, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, turning his face to the sky to let the rain plink against his mask.

“Don’t worry about Mercy and Felicity Goode,” Raphael advised, though whether to Gabriel or himself, he couldn’t quite figure. “They have a fierce bond, unshakable trust, and a future together.”

“As do we, brother. As do we.” Gabriel turned to him and clasped his shoulder in a rare show of fraternal affection. “Enjoy your last few weeks as the handsome one, Rafe. Or should I say, Remy? I’ll see you in Antigua.”

Raphael could only bring himself to nod.

Turning, Gabriel conquered the steps to the grand building with an almost jubilant jog, taking two at a time.

The next words were lost to the soft sound of the rain as it pattered against the cobbles of the streets that would become his grave.

“Goodbye, mon frere. Vive la vie.”

Live life.

Chapter 13

Mercy resolutely did not think of Raphael all the next day.

She awoke to find he’d vanished like the night mist off the Thames when the sun burned it away. If not for the whisper of heat and the musk of his aftershave haunting his side of the bed, one might have thought last night nothing but a fever dream.

She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow he’d so unceremoniously abandoned. Intimate muscles ached and protested in a way that was both wicked and dispiriting.

He was gone.

Of course, he would be. She’d expected it. Accepted it. And refused to feel any sort of ridiculous melancholy about it.

Except...had he even kissed her goodbye? Did she sleep through it?

Or had he simply slithered away like a wary thief in the shadows, grateful to be spared any inconvenient or emotional farewells?

Not that he’d have had to suffer such nonsense.

They’d both understood that they were lovers for one night only.

And, Holy Moses, did they ever make the most of their evening.

She’d had him three times in three different ways, though he’d sent her rocketing into the stars a total of five.

Dear God, but was he insatiable. She’d had to beg for respite, and only then did he wrap his large, warm body around her and lull her to sleep with his even breaths stirring her hair.

She refused to be sentimental about it, dammit. She wasn’t one of those ridiculous women who took to their beds when neglected by a man.

It was only that...she’d felt like a treasure lying wrapped in his embrace. Something coveted and rare.

It’d been rather lovely.

Different.

It wasn’t that she needed to feel that way, of course. She’d come to terms with the fact that she was a thorn in the collective side of the world at large.

Forever too much or not enough.

It was just that, the sensation of fitting so perfectly against his hips, her head resting in the deep groove of his chest. The way the tempo of their hearts seemed to harmonize with the effortless synchronization