Page 114 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

She looked up at him. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

"It's over," she said softly. "Carrick is finished. The evidence is public. The newspapers will print tomorrow. He'll never hurt anyone again."

Matthew was quiet for a long moment.

"I should have killed him."

She remained silent.

"I would have. If you hadn't stopped me."

"I know."

He met her eyes. "Does that frighten you?"

"No," she said. "It doesn't frighten me. Does it frighten you?"

He shook his head. A sheepish smile appeared on his face. “I’d always known what a homicidal maniac I was.”

She leaned one side against his shoulder. His arm came around loosely.

"I love you," she said.

The words came easily now.

Matthew's arm tightened around hers.

"I missed you." He cleared his throat. "So much."

Florence's eyes burned.

"Is that your way of saying you love me too?"

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Aye. That's my way."

She laughed, a broken sound, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Let's go home," she whispered.

"Where's home?"

"Wherever you are."

He pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were suspiciously bright. "That sounds like poetry."

"Don't get used to it."

He laughed, a rough, rusty sound that made his face glow from within.

Then he kissed her.

In front of everyone. In front of her brother, the constables, the scandalised aristocrats, the weeping survivors, the grinning fighters.

She kissed him back.

Let them watch. Let them whisper. Let them print it in tomorrow's papers alongside Carrick's crimes.