he was not certain if he would ever move the injured arm without pain again.
Despite the agony tearing through him, he raised both her hands to his lips for another kiss, wishing he could offer more. So much more.
“My heart belongs to you.” Before he said anything more foolish, he kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, sweet Caro.”
And then he reluctantly released her and quit the room. Walking away required all the restraint he had.
Chapter 7
My heart belongs to you.
Had she truly heard those words last night? They seemed a dream by the harsh light of the morning as Caro walked to the carriage awaiting her in the mews. Pen was yet ill, and Caro had used nearly all her stores after nursing a string of wounded patients. There had been her brothers and their endless scrapes, a fit of coughing which had overtaken some of the kitchen workers and guards, and then there had been him.
Gavin Winter.
Her heart pounded at the thought of his name. At the remembrance of the manner in which he had gazed upon her last night, as if she were beloved to him. As if she were truly worthy of his adulation.
But she was not. And bloody blue blazes, she needed to collect herself. To remember to guard her heart and keep her distance from him as best she could from this moment on. He would return to the welcoming arms of the Winters, and he would hate her for who she was and for what she had done. The deceit she had perpetuated filled her with guilt.
Jasper could not forever keep Gavin Winter a secret, hidden away in the private quarters of The Sinner’s Palace. Soon enough, the truth would need to be revealed, Gavin would know she had betrayed him, and he would never forgive her. Oh, how her heart ached this morning. She wanted to be filled with joy at Gavin’s confession, but all she felt was worry.
Caro was so distracted she did not realize she was not the sole occupant of the carriage until she had seated herself on the bench, the door soundly closed at her back, and she found a pair of emerald eyes upon her.
“Ga—merciful angels and saints!” The exclamation left her, and her belly sizzled with pent-up anguish as she realized she had almost spoken his name aloud.
It had not been the first occasion for such a slip, either.
“I am neither an angel nor a saint, I trust.” He winked, then grinned. “Common fame has it that I am a man, formed of flesh and blood. All too mortal. I nearly went to Rothisbone until an angel saved me.”
The stone of guilt inhabiting her stomach seemed to double in size. “I am not an angel either, and I can assure you of that. But that is neither here nor there. What are you doing in my carriage?”
He gestured with his good hand, drawing her attention to his long legs and well-muscled thighs, so clearly outlined by the snugness of his trousers. “Sitting here, of course.”
She sighed. He was so bloody charming, she could forget about all the reasons why he should not be in this carriage with her. The potential danger to him was chief among them.
“How did you know I was taking the carriage today?” she asked softly as the conveyance lurched into motion.
She had already informed Jerome, The Sinner’s Palace coachman, where she was going. To the same apothecary she visited every few months. He was simply doing his duty. She wondered then if Gavin had been conspiring with the men in the Sutton family employ.
“Jerome told me.” His grin deepened.
Gavin Winter was befriending everyone in The Sinner’s Palace. She was not surprised. He was kind, caring, and sweet. He was a man who had overcome tremendous wounds, the likes of which would have proved the end of most. And yet, here he sat opposite her, trusting, handsome, beloved.
Everything within her froze at the word, the sentiment. Could it be that she had fallen in love with him?
“Caro?” Gavin’s smile faded, turning into a concerned frown. “Are you displeased I am here? If you are worried your brother will discover I accompanied you this morning, you needn’t fear. Jerome is a friend. He’ll not carry any tales. I came directly to the carriage from the private quarters, and no one saw me.”
That was not what had been worrying her most, but she leapt upon the excuse, which was far easier than admitting she had fallen in