“I’d like to know that, too,” Rosilee murmured.
Blake turned his horse around, facing Reaper head on, arching a brow.
The man gave a dramatic sigh. “What else? I helped you deal with Baston in a manner that clears you of having any blood on your hands. Maxen and the rest will deal with his men and help free the Viscount Leopold.”
“And what do you want in exchange for this help?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? What shite. Men like you always want something.”
Reaper lifted his hands. “No need to be so suspicious. Contrary to what you might believe, like I told you before, I’m here on other business. I happened to cross paths with Baston, then you, and offered aid. That’s all.”
“Because we are brothers,” Blake said flatly. “Why did you follow me here?”
“To receive my thanks.” At Blake’s darkened look he changed his song a bit. “And to inform you that your lady love’s brother, once freed, if he hasn’t been freed already, will be escorted home.”
Blake wanted to argue with the man, wanted to tell him that blood didn’t make them family—that Reaper had no right to meddle in his life, in Rosilee’s life. But the words stuck in his throat. There was something disarming about Reaper’s quiet confidence, about the way he spoke of family as if it meant something real. Something true.
Blake had never had that.
Not with his father, not with anyone. Bishop had come the closest, and Rosilee was the very definition of home, family. But he’d only just truly found her.
“My brother is saved?” Rosilee asked Reaper.
The man nodded. “Should be. I haven’t heard from Maxen, but that is a good sign, not a bad one.”
“I had everything under control,” Blake muttered.
Reaper grinned. “You had your eyes only on your lady. Not that I blame you, she is quite pretty.”
“Keep your eyes off her.”
“How can I, when you can’t even manage?”
Rosilee suddenly laughed, giving Blake pause. “He does have a point,” she said lightly. “I fear I suffer from the same affliction as you. I find myself unable to stop gazing at the one I love.”
Blake’s eyes flicked to Rosilee and stayed there. “That might become a problem, if we both suffer from this affliction.”
She smiled. “I don’t think so. It might just be thrilling.”
“I don’t think I can survive more thrill,” he said. “Should we return to your home?”
She nodded. “But tomorrow. Let’s not go anywhere else today.”
God, yes.
Blake dismounted and—ignoring his half-brother—lifted Rosilee into his arms, carrying her back to the house. The man had said he only had eyes for Rosilee.
It was the truth.
Don’t blame him for being impolite.
He wasn’t taking his eyes off her for the rest of the day—and night.
For the rest of their lives.
Chapter Eighteen
