Chapter 126

The air between them crackled with unspoken fury.

Though seated mere inches apart, Evelyn Thorne and Dominic Blackwood might as well have been on opposite sides of a battlefield.

Mrs. Wilkins hurried over with a tray of sliced fruits, her hands trembling slightly. "Madam, would you care for some refreshments? I've kept lunch warm for you."

Evelyn stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, she marched toward the dining area.

Dominic's piercing gaze followed her retreating figure. The woman was an enigma wrapped in fury.

If she truly despised him, she wouldn't bother eating under his roof.

Yet the fire in her emerald eyes betrayed the storm raging within.

Her empty stomach growled in protest, reminding Evelyn she'd skipped two meals. She ate slowly, knowing haste would only worsen the ache.

Nearly forty minutes later, she emerged to find the living room deserted.

"Strong emotions cloud judgment, Madam," Mrs. Wilkins murmured. "Perhaps some rest would help."

Evelyn massaged her throbbing temples and nodded. She turned toward the staircase.

The housekeeper hesitated. "I assumed you'd be using the master suite now. I've already prepared fresh linens there."

"I have no intention of sharing his bed," Evelyn stated coldly.

"But Mr. Blackwood's injuries—"

"He manages perfectly fine with that cane," Evelyn cut in.

"You don't mean that."

"I mean every word."

"Last night when you tended his wounds—"

"Enough." Evelyn pivoted sharply and ascended to the second floor.

The master bedroom lay in semi-darkness, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Dominic appeared asleep, his chiseled features relaxed.

Evelyn's breath caught. All her anger suddenly had nowhere to go.

She'd been raised to value restraint, to never succumb to the wild impulses that drove Dominic.

Perching gingerly on the mattress edge, she studied his face.

Without warning, a strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her down.

Dominic's stormy eyes met hers. He'd been awake the whole time.

From the moment she entered, his resolve had crumbled.

"She chose the window herself," he rasped.

Explanations didn't come easily to him. Pride had always been his armor.

Yet for Evelyn, he'd tear it off piece by piece.

"Even if she hadn't jumped, I wouldn't have spared her."

This was the unvarnished truth of Dominic Blackwood.

"Surviving last night means nothing. My enemies won't stop coming." His fingers traced her jawline. "Mercy would only get me killed. Do you truly believe any of them would change?"

Evelyn searched his face - the sharp angles, the shadows beneath his eyes. Her chest constricted.

He was right. No man was immortal. Not even Dominic Blackwood.