She shifted just enough to make room.
Marcus sat on the settee, close enough that their shoulders brushed. His warmth steadied her pulse. His arm rested along the back behind her, a presence rather than a claim.
Henry slept across her lap. The fire warmed the room. The house, for the first time in months, felt whole.
Marcus lowered his voice, meant only for her.
“You are safe,” he said. “And you are home.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Henry slept deeplynow, deeper than Marcus had seen in months. He was curled against Lila’s hip, one arm tucked beneath his cheek as if shielding himself from any lingering dream.
The fire had burned low. The lamps guttered. The house rested in a hush that felt earned rather than fragile.
Lila shifted carefully, mindful of the weight against her. A quiet ache had settled into her shoulders from holding the same position too long, but she welcomed it. She smoothed Henry’s hair again, humming something soft and unformed under her breath.
Marcus sat beside her, watching.
Not guarding.
Not brooding.
Simply seeing her.
After a moment, he eased his arm from behind her and bent forward.
“I’ll carry him upstairs,” he murmured.
Lila nodded. “He will cling.”
“I know.”
He slipped his arms beneath Henry with practiced care. The boy stirred, frowned, then melted against his father’s chest.
“Miss Edgewood is still here,” Marcus murmured against Henry’s hair. “Sleep, lad.”
Henry sighed and settled. Marcus closed his eyes briefly. The relief in him quiet but profound. No longer desperate. Simply grateful.
Lila rose.
Marcus looked at her. “Come with us,” he said. “He’ll wake if you’re too far behind.”
So she followed.
Their steps were soft along the carpeted corridor, the sconces casting warm gold across Marcus’s shoulders as he carried his son. Lila stayed close, her hand hovering near Henry’s foot, as though the simple act of accompanying them mattered.
In Henry’s room, Marcus lowered the boy with a tenderness that tightened something beneath Lila’s ribs. He drew the blanket up, smoothing it with the ease of a man who had done this countless nights.
Henry murmured, “Papa?”
“I’m here.”
“Miss Edgewood too?”
Marcus glanced back.
“I’m here,” Lila said.