Garreg Mach Monastery - Late - Clear
Devon Margrave
Devon shifted the furred mantle over his shoulders, squinting up at the gate back into the monastery. Beside him, Reynard moved with seemingly no sound. It was something he was better at now, too; it was a sort of wry joke between them that he could have easily passed his assassin exams if they were still in school.
He'd certainly never have imagined ending up like this. When Lord Lonato had sponsored his entry to the Academy, he'd been so ecstatic just to have a chance to make something of himself, to repay his adoptive warden for so many years of looking after him and his siblings. Maybe to become a knight, silly as that had been for a boy of common birth to dream. But, well, that was what he'd been. A boy. In so many ways still a child. And while the year had had its trials, especially Lonato's rebellion, and the knowledge that he'd never been important enough for such a man to confide in...
Well, even after all of that, he'd found some happiness.
Now he was just happy to have found some bandits. What a damn world.
"I can give Mercer the report. Get some sleep, Dev." Reynard nodded slightly to Sofi as she opened the gate for them.
"Unlikely," Devon admitted softly.
Reynard sighed, but his face was not without sympathy. "If you don't talk to her, nothing changes, you know."
"Yeah but if I do, it might just get worse." Sylviâat least she still let him around her. He hadn't touched her since their escape from the camp. They hadn't talked about it directly, because she had been uncomfortable even in the vicinity of the topic, and he hadn't pushed. But every tiny piece of contact now, from small brushes to little squeezes of the hand, was by her choice. He'd seen the way she flinched from things like hugs and even shoulder-touches from other people, and he refused to put her through any discomfort just because he wanted to touch her. To hold her. Kiss her, even.
What he wanted didn't matter, in these circumstances.
The other man pursed his lips. "Only you can decide what's worth the risk," he said simply. "But... you're not everyone else. Not to her. And if you haven't asked her what kind of support she wants from you, there's a pretty good chance she's not getting it." He departed, heading up for the offices on the second floor of the great hall.
Devon, on the other hand, turned towards the dormitory, still turning Reynard's advice over in his mind. He knew, on some level, that the other man was right, but it just... wasn't a conversation he knew how to have. He wanted to help, to do something for her, butâbut the first time he'd tried to talk about it she'd looked so pained.
Before he knew what he was doing, he'd bypassed his own door and stood in front of hers, right next to it. There wasn't much point in keeping their old ones; everyone slept on the top floor now for safety, except the professor, who slept one door down from his former room. No one said anything about it.
Swallowing thickly, Devon knocked softly. "Syl? You still awake?" His tone was just as quiet as his knock; he didn't want to rouse her if she was in fact asleep.
There was some shuffling from the other side of the door, something heavy being placed down before the door opened. Sylvi blinked in mild surprise, the dark circles under eyes at least somewhat gone, but her eyes were still dull. âDevon? You're back," she spoke, a soft breath of relief escaping her, it seemed. âCome in," she stated, stepping back and opening the door just a bit wider to let Devon through.
âIt's... there isn't much I can offer you right now. It's just my room, but... if you want to sit," she stated, glancing towards the desk she had been sitting at, it seemed. The object that had been set down was, apparently a book, and from the looks of it, it looked like one of the old books Princess Sorcha used to read. The ones about valiant knights and princesses and such.
Devon had read a few of them here and there; he wondered if maybe she wasn't using it to take her mind off things. He shook his head, though, at the offer of a seat. He already felt like he was intruding here, and he wondered if Reynard could possibly be right. What about him would make him different from anyone else in this respect? He wasn't specialâhe was just... Devon.
"No, don'tâdon't let me take your chair or anything Syl, I'm fine here." He sat on the floor to make his point, avoiding anywhere too near the bed because he was afraid of how that might be interpreted. He crossed his legs under him and resisted the urge to sigh, nodding at the book instead. "Which one's that?" he asked gently.
âI'm not sure, honestly," she replied, a light huff leaving her as she glanced towards the book. âIt... feels like all I've been able to do is stare at it. I can't make sense of the words, and it's just... I thought that maybe if I tried reading something, I'd be able to..." she paused, her hand clenching tightly enough that her knuckles turned white. She glanced at him, then, tears bubbling in her eyes.
âI'm... I'm sorry, Dev," she spoke, closing her eyes and shaking her head. âI'm not... you haven't..." she began, but she didn't seem to know where she wanted to take that statement. âIt must be hard for you, now. Seeing me like this... not being able to," she trailed off as if she couldn't finish. Didn't know how to. She pulled in a shuddering breath before she opened her eyes again.
âIt... feels like I failed to be the woman you loved, and... I'm sorry."
"Syl," Devon said, his voice thick. He wanted so badly to reach for her, but her words stymied him. Instead, he tried to inject all the feeling he could into his voice, so she would know he meant the words with all his heart. "Syl, you haven't failed at anything, least of all being the woman I love. Iâ" He had to swallow past the lump rising in his throat. "Goddess, Sylvi, I love you so much." So much it was hard to breathe sometimes. Now, certainly.
"That's... that's never going to change. Even if you're never comfortable withâwith contact ever again, I wantâI want you to know that will always be true." He'd always known there would come a time when he wouldn't be able to be with her anymore, ever since the Princess had died. His chance at knighthood was far from the most important thing lost that day, but it was plenty important to him, because it had been the one chance he ever had at a life with Sylvi. This wasn't how he'd expected that part of things to end, but knowing that they somehow would had allowed Devon to make an important realization.
Whether they could be together in any given sense of the word or not, he was always going to love her.
"There's no one else, Syl. Not now, not ever. Not for me. There's just you, and I'm here however you want me. I'll always be, unless you tell me to go."
âBut... that's just it, Dev," she spoke, slowly as if to try and keep her voice calm. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were trying to hold herself, and she glanced away from him. âYou're... you're the only person I want to..." she paused, swallowing thickly as she tried to keep herself calm. âYou're the only one I want to touch me because... you're the only one I love. And... and you haven't since... and that's why it feels like I've failed because if you don't want me. Maybe... maybe that means that you find me repulsive, now. And that... after everything, in the camp."
She seemed to be digging her nails into her arms, but not enough to draw blood, yet. âHow could you love me if you find me repulsive? That... you won't even..." she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the tears seemed to flow freely, now.
âYou're the only one I want. The only one I'll ever want."
Devon didn't even feel himself move. Couldn't recall deciding to. All he knew was that he was suddenly on his knees in front of her chair, close enough to feel her body heat but still not quite touching, because he needed to see it. Needed to see it in her face and hear it in her voice. That she wanted what he wanted.
"Syl," he breathed, lifting a trembling hand so that his fingertips were a hairsbreadth from her cheek. "No, Syl, never. I wantâ" he still couldn't seem to elevate his tone above a whisper. "All this time I thought you couldn't stand the idea. It's been torment, but if... but if it was what you wanted I'd do it forever." He respected her enough to keep himself in check. Loved her so much that he wanted to be near her in whatever capacity she'd tolerate. And so there had been no choice but to find a way to get through it. But if sheâ
"Are you sure? I canâ" with the utmost care, he brushed one of the little pieces of red hair framing her face behind her ear. It had always struck him strange, that she should abide his handsâforeign hands, work-callused hands, a commoner's handsâanywhere near her. That she of all people should look at him and find something to love. "Tell me, please," he murmured. And it was a plea. "Tell me what I can do so it hurts less."
Repulsive? How could he have ever been awful enough to give her the thought. She was divine, exquisite even in her sorrow, though he'd have given anything and everything he had just to see her smile.
Her eyes opened as she stared at him, some part scared and some part relieved by something. âDevon," she whispered his name as if she'd found it delicate somehow, as if she'd be breaking something if she said it any louder. âI want you. Only you. I want you, and... I want you to stay with me. Don't leave me, and don't... don't stop this," she stated, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her cheek as if he were the most precious thing in the world to her.
âI just want your hands, your body, and everything of you. I don't... want anyone else's, and I don't want them on me. Just you," she spoke softly, reaching with her other hand to wrap around his neck to pull him forward so that their foreheads were touching.
âStay with me, tonight... please. Don't... leave me here by myself," she pleaded.
"Never," he swore, shifting his hand to rest at the back of her head. "Never again." He'd spent the last four years training, honing every skill he had so that no one else had to die. And, he knew, some part of him had been doing it in some vain hope of deserving the love she'd so generously given him. But this promise required only that he do what he already wanted more than anything in the world to do.
Shifting his chin forward, Devon brushed his lips over hers, just once, just tentatively, knowing that he still had a responsibility to make sure that nothing was too much, nothing turned out to feel different from the way she thought it would.
"I swear it Sylvi," he said, all but speaking into the feathery contact of their lips. With his free hand, he picked hers up and pressed it to his chest, right over his heart. "I have nothing to give you but me. No name, no Crest, no status, nothing. But this heart is yours. Everything I am is yours, for as long as you want me and even if you don't." She could choose to discard it, and still it would belong to her, the one stubborn part of him that would not be able to do absolutely anything she wanted. It was the only impossible thing, he felt: that he should not love her.
âAlways, Devon Margrave. I'll always want just you. I don't... care that you have no status, no Crest to give me. I don't want those things. I... I told you, once this was over, that I was going to renounce my claim to Galatea. I want to be with you. And if that's the only way to do it," she spoke, closing the distance between their lips. The fervor behind it was only amplified by the desparate sense of need. When she pulled back, there was a small light behind her eyes, flickering softly.
âFrom this day forward, I, Sylvi Galatea, no longer claim my birthright. I renounce it. I am no longer bound by duty to the name Galatea. If so be it, I will take yours, Devon. I will be Sylvi Margrave so that I am no longer bound to the nobility that was my birthright. I cast it aside in favor of you, because," she paused, swallowing thickly before she continued, âI love you."
The cautious part of Devon, the one built up over years of being aware of his status, his need to protect himself and his siblings, panicked at what she said. Because it was dangerous, to do what she was doing. To cast aside her birthright, her safety, the thing that shielded her from parts of the world that had been cruel to him and would probably be cruel to her, too. Especially if she did it for him.
But of course that was absurd. Sylvi... all his wishes to the contrary, Sylvi already knew exactly how cruel the world could be. Had suffered some of the worst of it, and her so-called protection hadn't helped her then. He knew it was a futile hope, that he'd be able to protect her from everything in the future, but at least this way they could protect each other. And be there, in the most solid of ways, when the cruelty reared its ugly head andâ
And just now, the reckless part of him, the one that charged headlong into battle, the one that had kissed her at the end of a dip at the end of a dance he hardly knew... that part of him was drunk on the need in her kiss. Need for him, reflected in him as need for her. And that part of him knew exactly what the real right answer was.
"Take it," he said, leaning back in to kiss her with all the fervor, all the heat she'd had when she did the same. "Take my name. Take my future. Take it all. Marry me, Sylâwe canâwe can have Lady Lyanna do the ceremony tomorrow, before we march out." Maybe it was unromantic. Maybe she wanted something more than this rush, this urgency. But he knew that if she did, she'd tell him. And right now all he could think of to want was her, and that seemed like the most complete, fastest way to make it true. The dream his heart had.
For the first time in years, Sylvi smiled. It wasn't bright like it used to be, but it was there, in the softest corners of her lips as she glanced at him. âLet's do it. Tomorrow morning, before we march... so that we march as one. Together." She seemed as certain as he was. âTomorrow we'll march as the Margraves, and not as Margrave and Galatea. You're all I want, Dev. All I'll ever want, and this... this happiness that only you can give me, I want it. I want all of it, because... with you, everything just falls into place. I'm not terrified of closing my eyes, of reliving the past. I want to move forward with you."
âThe past... it'll always be there, but you help me. You make me want to make new memories, better memories. Let's... first thing in the morning, get married, because I want this as much as you do."
"First thing," he promised.
But now, tonightâthis was for something else. This was for relearning what they already were, rather than becoming something new. And goddess if he had it in him to resist now. The only thing that could have stopped him was her, and she'd made it clear she had no intention of doing so.
He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her and standing, picking her up out of the chair and taking the few steps needed to find his destination. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back enough to meet her eyes, because this was important.
"The moment you're uncomfortable," his whispered, every bit as passionate as anything else he'd said. "The moment anything changes. Don't bear it for my sake. I only want this if you want it too, okay?"
She clung to him as if he were life itself, though. âNever. You'll never make me uncomfortable, Dev. You're mine, and I'm yours. Only I belong to you; no one else. Please... I want this as much as you do. Remind me what it was to be with someone that loves me. Please." She whispered the last word softly, almost desperately.
âI love you, Devon Margrave."
It was a plea he was only too happy to grant. Hesitation gone, he laid her down carefully, cradling the back of her head as he lowered her to the mattress. It wasn't hard to shrug out of his cloak, his boots; the rest would go in time.
"I love you too, Syl. Always."
He'd certainly never have imagined ending up like this. When Lord Lonato had sponsored his entry to the Academy, he'd been so ecstatic just to have a chance to make something of himself, to repay his adoptive warden for so many years of looking after him and his siblings. Maybe to become a knight, silly as that had been for a boy of common birth to dream. But, well, that was what he'd been. A boy. In so many ways still a child. And while the year had had its trials, especially Lonato's rebellion, and the knowledge that he'd never been important enough for such a man to confide in...
Well, even after all of that, he'd found some happiness.
Now he was just happy to have found some bandits. What a damn world.
"I can give Mercer the report. Get some sleep, Dev." Reynard nodded slightly to Sofi as she opened the gate for them.
"Unlikely," Devon admitted softly.
Reynard sighed, but his face was not without sympathy. "If you don't talk to her, nothing changes, you know."
"Yeah but if I do, it might just get worse." Sylviâat least she still let him around her. He hadn't touched her since their escape from the camp. They hadn't talked about it directly, because she had been uncomfortable even in the vicinity of the topic, and he hadn't pushed. But every tiny piece of contact now, from small brushes to little squeezes of the hand, was by her choice. He'd seen the way she flinched from things like hugs and even shoulder-touches from other people, and he refused to put her through any discomfort just because he wanted to touch her. To hold her. Kiss her, even.
What he wanted didn't matter, in these circumstances.
The other man pursed his lips. "Only you can decide what's worth the risk," he said simply. "But... you're not everyone else. Not to her. And if you haven't asked her what kind of support she wants from you, there's a pretty good chance she's not getting it." He departed, heading up for the offices on the second floor of the great hall.
Devon, on the other hand, turned towards the dormitory, still turning Reynard's advice over in his mind. He knew, on some level, that the other man was right, but it just... wasn't a conversation he knew how to have. He wanted to help, to do something for her, butâbut the first time he'd tried to talk about it she'd looked so pained.
Before he knew what he was doing, he'd bypassed his own door and stood in front of hers, right next to it. There wasn't much point in keeping their old ones; everyone slept on the top floor now for safety, except the professor, who slept one door down from his former room. No one said anything about it.
Swallowing thickly, Devon knocked softly. "Syl? You still awake?" His tone was just as quiet as his knock; he didn't want to rouse her if she was in fact asleep.
There was some shuffling from the other side of the door, something heavy being placed down before the door opened. Sylvi blinked in mild surprise, the dark circles under eyes at least somewhat gone, but her eyes were still dull. âDevon? You're back," she spoke, a soft breath of relief escaping her, it seemed. âCome in," she stated, stepping back and opening the door just a bit wider to let Devon through.
âIt's... there isn't much I can offer you right now. It's just my room, but... if you want to sit," she stated, glancing towards the desk she had been sitting at, it seemed. The object that had been set down was, apparently a book, and from the looks of it, it looked like one of the old books Princess Sorcha used to read. The ones about valiant knights and princesses and such.
Devon had read a few of them here and there; he wondered if maybe she wasn't using it to take her mind off things. He shook his head, though, at the offer of a seat. He already felt like he was intruding here, and he wondered if Reynard could possibly be right. What about him would make him different from anyone else in this respect? He wasn't specialâhe was just... Devon.
"No, don'tâdon't let me take your chair or anything Syl, I'm fine here." He sat on the floor to make his point, avoiding anywhere too near the bed because he was afraid of how that might be interpreted. He crossed his legs under him and resisted the urge to sigh, nodding at the book instead. "Which one's that?" he asked gently.
âI'm not sure, honestly," she replied, a light huff leaving her as she glanced towards the book. âIt... feels like all I've been able to do is stare at it. I can't make sense of the words, and it's just... I thought that maybe if I tried reading something, I'd be able to..." she paused, her hand clenching tightly enough that her knuckles turned white. She glanced at him, then, tears bubbling in her eyes.
âI'm... I'm sorry, Dev," she spoke, closing her eyes and shaking her head. âI'm not... you haven't..." she began, but she didn't seem to know where she wanted to take that statement. âIt must be hard for you, now. Seeing me like this... not being able to," she trailed off as if she couldn't finish. Didn't know how to. She pulled in a shuddering breath before she opened her eyes again.
âIt... feels like I failed to be the woman you loved, and... I'm sorry."
"Syl," Devon said, his voice thick. He wanted so badly to reach for her, but her words stymied him. Instead, he tried to inject all the feeling he could into his voice, so she would know he meant the words with all his heart. "Syl, you haven't failed at anything, least of all being the woman I love. Iâ" He had to swallow past the lump rising in his throat. "Goddess, Sylvi, I love you so much." So much it was hard to breathe sometimes. Now, certainly.
"That's... that's never going to change. Even if you're never comfortable withâwith contact ever again, I wantâI want you to know that will always be true." He'd always known there would come a time when he wouldn't be able to be with her anymore, ever since the Princess had died. His chance at knighthood was far from the most important thing lost that day, but it was plenty important to him, because it had been the one chance he ever had at a life with Sylvi. This wasn't how he'd expected that part of things to end, but knowing that they somehow would had allowed Devon to make an important realization.
Whether they could be together in any given sense of the word or not, he was always going to love her.
"There's no one else, Syl. Not now, not ever. Not for me. There's just you, and I'm here however you want me. I'll always be, unless you tell me to go."
âBut... that's just it, Dev," she spoke, slowly as if to try and keep her voice calm. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were trying to hold herself, and she glanced away from him. âYou're... you're the only person I want to..." she paused, swallowing thickly as she tried to keep herself calm. âYou're the only one I want to touch me because... you're the only one I love. And... and you haven't since... and that's why it feels like I've failed because if you don't want me. Maybe... maybe that means that you find me repulsive, now. And that... after everything, in the camp."
She seemed to be digging her nails into her arms, but not enough to draw blood, yet. âHow could you love me if you find me repulsive? That... you won't even..." she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the tears seemed to flow freely, now.
âYou're the only one I want. The only one I'll ever want."
Devon didn't even feel himself move. Couldn't recall deciding to. All he knew was that he was suddenly on his knees in front of her chair, close enough to feel her body heat but still not quite touching, because he needed to see it. Needed to see it in her face and hear it in her voice. That she wanted what he wanted.
"Syl," he breathed, lifting a trembling hand so that his fingertips were a hairsbreadth from her cheek. "No, Syl, never. I wantâ" he still couldn't seem to elevate his tone above a whisper. "All this time I thought you couldn't stand the idea. It's been torment, but if... but if it was what you wanted I'd do it forever." He respected her enough to keep himself in check. Loved her so much that he wanted to be near her in whatever capacity she'd tolerate. And so there had been no choice but to find a way to get through it. But if sheâ
"Are you sure? I canâ" with the utmost care, he brushed one of the little pieces of red hair framing her face behind her ear. It had always struck him strange, that she should abide his handsâforeign hands, work-callused hands, a commoner's handsâanywhere near her. That she of all people should look at him and find something to love. "Tell me, please," he murmured. And it was a plea. "Tell me what I can do so it hurts less."
Repulsive? How could he have ever been awful enough to give her the thought. She was divine, exquisite even in her sorrow, though he'd have given anything and everything he had just to see her smile.
Her eyes opened as she stared at him, some part scared and some part relieved by something. âDevon," she whispered his name as if she'd found it delicate somehow, as if she'd be breaking something if she said it any louder. âI want you. Only you. I want you, and... I want you to stay with me. Don't leave me, and don't... don't stop this," she stated, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her cheek as if he were the most precious thing in the world to her.
âI just want your hands, your body, and everything of you. I don't... want anyone else's, and I don't want them on me. Just you," she spoke softly, reaching with her other hand to wrap around his neck to pull him forward so that their foreheads were touching.
âStay with me, tonight... please. Don't... leave me here by myself," she pleaded.
"Never," he swore, shifting his hand to rest at the back of her head. "Never again." He'd spent the last four years training, honing every skill he had so that no one else had to die. And, he knew, some part of him had been doing it in some vain hope of deserving the love she'd so generously given him. But this promise required only that he do what he already wanted more than anything in the world to do.
Shifting his chin forward, Devon brushed his lips over hers, just once, just tentatively, knowing that he still had a responsibility to make sure that nothing was too much, nothing turned out to feel different from the way she thought it would.
"I swear it Sylvi," he said, all but speaking into the feathery contact of their lips. With his free hand, he picked hers up and pressed it to his chest, right over his heart. "I have nothing to give you but me. No name, no Crest, no status, nothing. But this heart is yours. Everything I am is yours, for as long as you want me and even if you don't." She could choose to discard it, and still it would belong to her, the one stubborn part of him that would not be able to do absolutely anything she wanted. It was the only impossible thing, he felt: that he should not love her.
âAlways, Devon Margrave. I'll always want just you. I don't... care that you have no status, no Crest to give me. I don't want those things. I... I told you, once this was over, that I was going to renounce my claim to Galatea. I want to be with you. And if that's the only way to do it," she spoke, closing the distance between their lips. The fervor behind it was only amplified by the desparate sense of need. When she pulled back, there was a small light behind her eyes, flickering softly.
âFrom this day forward, I, Sylvi Galatea, no longer claim my birthright. I renounce it. I am no longer bound by duty to the name Galatea. If so be it, I will take yours, Devon. I will be Sylvi Margrave so that I am no longer bound to the nobility that was my birthright. I cast it aside in favor of you, because," she paused, swallowing thickly before she continued, âI love you."
The cautious part of Devon, the one built up over years of being aware of his status, his need to protect himself and his siblings, panicked at what she said. Because it was dangerous, to do what she was doing. To cast aside her birthright, her safety, the thing that shielded her from parts of the world that had been cruel to him and would probably be cruel to her, too. Especially if she did it for him.
But of course that was absurd. Sylvi... all his wishes to the contrary, Sylvi already knew exactly how cruel the world could be. Had suffered some of the worst of it, and her so-called protection hadn't helped her then. He knew it was a futile hope, that he'd be able to protect her from everything in the future, but at least this way they could protect each other. And be there, in the most solid of ways, when the cruelty reared its ugly head andâ
And just now, the reckless part of him, the one that charged headlong into battle, the one that had kissed her at the end of a dip at the end of a dance he hardly knew... that part of him was drunk on the need in her kiss. Need for him, reflected in him as need for her. And that part of him knew exactly what the real right answer was.
"Take it," he said, leaning back in to kiss her with all the fervor, all the heat she'd had when she did the same. "Take my name. Take my future. Take it all. Marry me, Sylâwe canâwe can have Lady Lyanna do the ceremony tomorrow, before we march out." Maybe it was unromantic. Maybe she wanted something more than this rush, this urgency. But he knew that if she did, she'd tell him. And right now all he could think of to want was her, and that seemed like the most complete, fastest way to make it true. The dream his heart had.
For the first time in years, Sylvi smiled. It wasn't bright like it used to be, but it was there, in the softest corners of her lips as she glanced at him. âLet's do it. Tomorrow morning, before we march... so that we march as one. Together." She seemed as certain as he was. âTomorrow we'll march as the Margraves, and not as Margrave and Galatea. You're all I want, Dev. All I'll ever want, and this... this happiness that only you can give me, I want it. I want all of it, because... with you, everything just falls into place. I'm not terrified of closing my eyes, of reliving the past. I want to move forward with you."
âThe past... it'll always be there, but you help me. You make me want to make new memories, better memories. Let's... first thing in the morning, get married, because I want this as much as you do."
"First thing," he promised.
But now, tonightâthis was for something else. This was for relearning what they already were, rather than becoming something new. And goddess if he had it in him to resist now. The only thing that could have stopped him was her, and she'd made it clear she had no intention of doing so.
He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her and standing, picking her up out of the chair and taking the few steps needed to find his destination. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back enough to meet her eyes, because this was important.
"The moment you're uncomfortable," his whispered, every bit as passionate as anything else he'd said. "The moment anything changes. Don't bear it for my sake. I only want this if you want it too, okay?"
She clung to him as if he were life itself, though. âNever. You'll never make me uncomfortable, Dev. You're mine, and I'm yours. Only I belong to you; no one else. Please... I want this as much as you do. Remind me what it was to be with someone that loves me. Please." She whispered the last word softly, almost desperately.
âI love you, Devon Margrave."
It was a plea he was only too happy to grant. Hesitation gone, he laid her down carefully, cradling the back of her head as he lowered her to the mattress. It wasn't hard to shrug out of his cloak, his boots; the rest would go in time.
"I love you too, Syl. Always."