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Grounding. He needed something to hold on to.
“I should cut your fingers off so you can never play again,” the voice said.
Frozen, he watched Odette swing the black eye of the gun barrel toward Quinn and pull the trigger.
“Noooo!” he gasped out between pants.
Move.
He staggered out of the kitchen and toward the front door, bracing his palms against the walls to keep moving.
Then he saw it. Quinn’s leather jacket. He lurched over to the stairs and seized it, burying his face in the satin lining, inhaling the fragrance of the woman he loved. He bunched the soft leather in his hands, the suppleness of it almost like her skin.
She was alive. Not struck down by a sniper’s bullet. Not shot by a madwoman.
He was free. Not in the tent. Not in the operating room.
He took a slow, deep breath. And another.
His heartbeat slowed.
The sweat dried.
And he was flooded with a sense of peace and deep certainty. He inhaled again and then lifted his head from the folds of her jacket.
He would do everything in his power to convince Quinn that they belonged together.
Quinn tugged on her favorite soft, faded jeans.
The truth was that she hadn’t needed the king’s private permission.
She had known in the heart-stopping moment when Gabriel had hurled himself at Odette that she loved him too much to quit on him. If this man died, she would want to die too.
She was going to give this relationship everything she had, no matter how rough it got.
She padded down the stairs barefoot to find Gabriel standing in the hallway, her leather jacket crumpled in his hands. Strands of hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes blazed with a strange light.
“Gabriel, why are you holding my jacket like that?”
“Because you were upstairs, and I needed you,” he said.
“You needed me for what?” She couldn’t read his expression.
He hung the jacket on the newel post and held out his hand. “Come sit with me.”
It sounded close to a command, but she wanted to touch him, so she went with it. He led her to the sectional and gestured for her to sit. Once she did, he released her hand and sat in a chair across from her.
“Why don’t you sit here?” She patted the cushion beside her.
The corners of his mouth lifted briefly, but he did not move. “I do not want to pressure you.” He shook his head. “That is not quite true, but I wish the pressure to be of a different kind.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Quinn, cariño mío.” He rested his elbows on his thighs and laced his fingers together as though to restrain himself. “I understand that it is not easy to be with me. But you have shown that you have the courage of a lioness. I am begging you to give me the chance to fight alongside you for our love. Because you are my heart and my soul, my comfort and my strength. Without you, I cannot find joy. With you, the world shines with radiance.”
Elation, relief, and incredulity skittered through her, but elation won. She launched herself off the sofa but stopped just before she threw herself into his arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“With you in my arms, I will feel no pain.” He pulled her onto his lap, and she took his head between her hands so she could kiss the mouth that had spoken those beautiful words. His embrace was so convulsive that she could hardly breathe. But she didn’t care.
