“If he’s well enough, I intend to bring him here. I will build a new house on the grounds. Start over again.”
Thornwood raised an eyebrow.
Mouse continued. “Nothing as big as Thistlemarsh Hall, but I was thinking that a cottage would suit us well. Although the Faerie rules of the inheritance were not technically met, I do not think Beckett has a leg to stand on to keep the grounds from me now. I will have access to our monetary inheritance, even though most of it was wrapped up in the estate. Perhaps there will be an insurance payout for the fire. I will need to write to Beckett to find out,” Mouse said.
“Will there be room for a Faerie husband in this cottage?” he asked, the words soft as feather down.
Mouse looked away, a burst of underlying panic breaking in her chest. She tucked her cheek into her shoulder, the rose still pressed to her face. Thornwood shifted next to her as she regained control of her emotions.
“I am sorry,” he said eventually. “It is too soon to talk about this.”
“No, no,” Mouse said. “Give me a moment, and I will be fine.”
“I’ll go.” He stood.
Mouse clutched at his coat.
“Stay,” she said. “Please, stay.”
Thornwood sank back down onto the bench next to her. She did not let go of his coat, and the fabric dimpled in her hands. She brushed the tips of her fingers over the sleeve.
“I cannot forget what happened at our wedding,” she said at last.
Thornwood flinched, then stiffened. “You are right. Forget that I mentioned anything.”
“Interrupting me won’t help your case,” Mouse said. His mouth snapped shut. “I want you to earn my forgiveness and my trust.”
“I don’t understand,” he whispered.
“I would rather not go through the bother of filing for a divorce when we might not need one, or even want one, in a year’s time,” she said, then frowned. “Can one file for divorce in the Faerie court at all?”
“You want to stay married? To me?” Thornwood said blankly.
“He’s catching up,” Mouse teased. “I’m afraid that despite my better judgment, and warnings from every corner, I am in love with you.”
“Even though I tricked you? And enchanted you?”
“That cannot happen again. Mark me—I am familiar with the sensation now, so I will know if you try to enchant me.”
He continued as though he had not heard her. “But I betrayed you!”
“Yes, you did. And yet, I want you in my life.”
Thornwood slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook. Tentatively, Mouse pressed her palm into his back. Silent sobs racked him. His hair fell over his face, contrasting with the black coat like the moon against the night sky. Mouse rubbed large circles across his back.
His hand darted out to snatch her unoccupied one, briefly digging the thorns of the roses into her palm and his. She hissed. With an apologetic grimace, he plucked the flower from her before depositing it safely by his feet. Then, he took her hand again. He brought her fingers to his mouth, pressing cold kisses to her fingertips. Tears dripped onto her hands, and he followed them with his lips as well.
“It is traditional, when someone says they love you, to say it back,” she said. He laughed against her skin.
“I love you,” he said between kisses on her wrists.
She removed her other hand from his back. He blinked up at her, his expression open in delight and astonishment. Tears clung to his eyelashes, and the gold of his eyes was sharper than Mouse had ever seen it. Delicately, she brushed her fingertips down his scar. He shuddered against her touch.
Then, his lips were against hers. The kiss was soft at first. Tentative, even.
He shifted closer, his knees pressing into Mouse’s. Her hands found his face. They slid back, lacing through his slicked-back hair, displacing it with delight.
Then they were kissing in earnest, his arms strong and sure around her. Mouse was weightless, out of time and space, with only Thornwood’s touch to anchor her. It was like the time in the study, but as Mouse’s thoughts began to splinter away, she latched onto them. She wanted to be present for this, their first real kiss on the same footing.