Page 113
Lucien presses the pistol harder against his temple. Boone flinches, his eyes squeezing shut for half a second before finding mine again.
My fingers tighten around Étoile’s reins until the leather bites into my palms. Every instinct demands that I cross the distance between us and rip Lucien apart with my bare hands.
I remain exactly where I am.
“Don’t hurt him.”
Something in my voice catches Lucien’s attention. His expression shifts as he studies me, only now beginning to understand that Boone asking for my assistance isn’t the only reason I’m here.
“You care about him.”
I say nothing. There is nothing I can say that won’t give Lucien another weapon to use against me.
His mouth curves into a slow smile anyway.
The possibility of Boone dying in front of me enters my mind, and I reject it immediately. There is no existence waiting for me beyond that moment. No castle I could return to, no greenhouse I could tend, no quiet routine I could rebuild after knowing what it was to have Boone filling every corner of my life.
“I should have known,” Lucien murmurs, glancing down at Boone before returning his attention to me. “The money. The clothes. The way he came back looking at that fucking mountain every five minutes. It was you.”
Boone’s breathing becomes uneven, his chest rising and falling against Lucien’s arm as he stares at me.
“You don’t love him,” Lucien continues. “You stole him.”
“And yet when Boone needed help,” I say, unable to resist the truth even though I know better than to provoke him, “he rode past every house in this village and came to mine.”
Lucien’s smile disappears instantly. The villagers begin murmuring amongst themselves. Someone yells for Lucien to lower his gun.
The pistol trembles against Boone’s temple.
I regret my words immediately.
“Rhys,” Boone whispers.
My gaze shifts to him, and the fear on his face nearly destroys what little restraint I have left. Tears move silently down his cheeks.
He is looking only at me.
“Rhys, I’m sorry,” he says.
“Boone—”
“I love you.”
He says it like goodbye.
I refuse to accept it as one.
Lucien releases a short, disbelieving laugh and looks down at Boone. “Listen to you. You really believe this thing loves you?”
Boone never takes his eyes from mine.
“Yes.”
The single word seems to break whatever control Lucien still possesses. His face twists, and he jerks Boone backward against his chest without moving the pistol from his head.
“You belong to me!” Lucien shouts, loud enough that several of the villagers step away from him. “You were supposed to marry me. Your father knew it. Everyone here knew it.”
Murmurs ripple through the growing crowd. People exchange looks now, their expressions no longer carrying the uncertainty they had when they first emerged from their homes. Boone’s father shifts behind me, but Boone finally tears his gaze from mine and looks at Lucien.
