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not
help the way her eyes glazed over with hot, unshed tears, nor the way her
throat seemed to clutch tight. She was not sure she would ever breathe again.
    "But as
heinous as that was," he continued, his own voice uneven, "I had to
look at what was behind it. To the grief that I didn't have the courage to
face. And…and to acknowledge what an insufferable snob I'd become. How quick I
was to use the circumstances of your birth against you—as if they were any more
random than mine. As if either one of us had anything to do with it."
    Lucy sucked
in a breath then. "You are a Qaderi, Rafi," she said.
    "Yes,"
he said sharply. "I am the head of my family. My cousin will be king one
day, and I have every intention of being the power behind his throne. So why
should I care what Alakkulian society thinks of my choice of bride? When have I
ever allowed outside opinions to dictate my own?"
    "Never,"
she said, her voice catching.
    But she
hadn't thought she was worthy of him, either. Was that why his dismissal had
hurt so much? Because she'd believed his low opinion of her was accurate?
    "I let
others poison me against you," he continued, "like a man far lesser,
far weaker than I would like to believe I am would do." His mouth
tightened. "Safir will never work for me again. The others who dared speak
against you will regret it. This I promise you."
    His warm
hands found hers and held them, and he shifted closer, gazing at her in a way
she was afraid to believe. Surely she was dreaming. Because she'd dreamed
this—or something very like this—a million times before. But he did not
disappear when she blinked.
    "I never
saw you coming," he whispered. "I looked up from the middle of my
gray, dutiful life and there you were, Lucy. I had no idea how to handle it. I
can't possibly imagine the misery I put you through. I can never make up for
it. If you want to leave me, you have every right and reason. I won't fight
you."
    Lucy could
read the sincerity on his hard face, hear it in his voice. His strong hands
clasped hers, but gently. She knew that if she pulled away, he would let her go
immediately.
    There was a
part of her that wanted to do just that. A part of her that wanted nothing more
than to hurt him. To make him pay. But that part was growing smaller by the
second.
    Because she
loved him. Even after all he'd done, she loved him far more than she wanted his
pain. Far more, even, than her own deep wounds. She had long believed that made
her the worst kind of fool. But maybe, she thought now, just maybe love was
bigger than foolishness, too.
    "And
what," she asked, her voice the barest whisper, "if I don't want to
leave you, after all?"
    Powerful
emotion moved across his face then, making his beautiful eyes gleam silver. His
hands tightened around hers.
    "Then I
will tell you that I love you," he rasped out. "That I always have,
from the first moment I met you. And I will never be ashamed of that
again."
    She said his
name and tasted salt, only then realizing that she was crying.
    "I have
never had any use for love," he said urgently, hoarsely. "Marriage is
supposed to be for political alliance. For power and greed. Love is for fairy
tales."
    "And for
us," she whispered. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his
forehead. "For us, Rafi."
    When she
moved to his mouth, he met her. Their kisses were hesitant at first, then
sweeter, hotter, longer. Lucy felt the fire build within her again, shot
through this time with the wild joy that he loved her.
    Rafi loves
me.
    She knew that
life with this man would never be easy, but as long as he loved her, they could
make it work. Would make it work.
    And then
there was no more thought, only sensation.
    Much later,
they lay stretched out in front of the fire in the shade of the makeshift
Christmas tree he'd put together just for her. Rafi looked down into her face
and shuddered slightly at how close he'd come to losing her.
    "I don't
know how you will ever forgive me," he said fiercely. "I