As Shadows Fade

Nine In Which Our Heroes Accept Their Mission

Her heart thumping madly, her stomach fluttering, Victoria drew in an unsteady breath as Max moved toward her. She’d never seen this expression on his face: the hot avidity in his eyes, the set of his mouth more gentle than harsh and grim.

“You’ve… changed… your mind?” Her words, unnecessary and completely absurd, considering the way he was looking at her, came out breathy and feeble. And very unVenator-like.

She stood on the second step, her hand still curled around the top of the newel post, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, they were face-to-face. Instead of reaching to grab her to him, to devour her, Max surprised her by moving so that they were flush and he was sliding his hands along her torso to close them over her hips.

He bent, not to her mouth, but to the side of her neck just below the ear-a place that, when his mouth touched it, quite literally made pleasure shoot through her in all directions. Her fingers trembled over the banister. Her eyes closed. He pressed his lips to that strong tendon at the side of her throat, moving them, slow and warm and thorough, over her skin. Little bumps rose everywhere, and she reached out, her hand landing on his solid shoulder.

She felt the brisk flutter of his eyelashes against her cheek and heard the sound of her own breath as though an ocean rushed through her ears. All from a gentle, purposeful kiss.

At last.

She felt the emotion well up inside her, and tears sting the corners of her eyes. So different, this flood of warmth, of rightness. No guilt, no furtiveness, no… rushing.

When his mouth closed over hers, she tipped toward him on the edge of her step, leaning against his warm chest, her hands planted at the tops of his shoulders. Pulling him close.

Where he belonged.

There was no urgency, no ferocity between them… but the kiss knocked her breathless, stole her reason, weakened her knees. It was deep and long, and as if he had all the time in the world.

As if the sun wouldn’t soon be rising and pouring through the sidelight windows, illuminating and warming them.

As if he couldn’t ever grow tired of matching his lips to hers, tasting and sliding in an easy, sensual dance. His hands slid up into her heavy hair, lifting it from her warm neck, holding her head cradled so the kiss could go deeper.

Damn him. He was right. If he kept this up, she would forget her own name.

As if reading her mind, he pulled away, but not before his mouth curved in something like a smile against hers. As if he were well pleased with himself.

“Perhaps,” he said-and his voice wasn’t quite as steady as normal, thank God-“we ought to move somewhere a bit more… comfortable.”

Her hands slid down over the front of his shirt, and she felt the firm muscle beneath, heating the cotton. And the mad pumping of his heart.

“What?” she managed to say, stepping backward up the stair behind her, tugging on his shirt so that he would follow. “Not here?” As jests went, it was another feeble attempt.

His lips, full and soft now, stretched into a bit of a smile. “Neither staircases nor carriages lend themselves to a terribly thorough experience.” His eyes were still hot. “And I intend to be very thorough.”

Victoria nearly tripped on the back hem of her gown, but he was there to steady her. She had to work hard to swallow, yet her own mouth curved into a delighted smile. “It’s about time, Max.” Her voice came out in a purposeful purr, her hands still planted on his chest. But inside, she was a riot of warmth and relief. This was him. This was Max. This was what she’d always wanted.

His response was to lift her in his arms and take the rest of the stairs swiftly and easily. As he climbed, she felt his muscles slide and shift beautifully around her, and dipped her face into the hollow of his shoulder. Pulling the shirt away, she found warm skin that smelled like Max and tasted like him, too.

By the time they reached the stop of the stairs, he was breathing a bit harder-and not because of the climb. At the top, he allowed Victoria to slide down from his grip in a swirl of gossamer silk and lace. His hands moved over her breasts, covering the lace, and then suddenly his palms cupped her bare flesh. Thumbs found the hard and sensitive points of her nipples, followed by that hot, slick mouth.

Her world became a slow, swirling vortex of pleasure, of gentle, purposeful hands, sleek mouths tangling and tasting, warm skin, and the insistent need tugging at her… then more and more urgent, demanding.

Before she realized it, the bed materialized beneath her, and she felt the soft linen on her bare skin… the warmth of his body as he moved next to her, his hands and mouth never stopping from their inventory. She arched up when he moved down to take the vis bullae into his mouth, and heard the soft click of the metal against his teeth… and then nearly cried out in surprise when he moved lower.

A strong hand was planted gently on her belly, thumb twisting around and amid the strength amulets, kept her steady, but writhing as he kissed and licked and stroked until the only sound in her ears was the rush of her own breath. And then the little gasps of her rising pleasure.

Max brought her over the edge and stayed with her while she trembled against him, biting her lip to keep from crying out, fully aware of a slender tear trickling from the corner of her eye. Then he was next to her, warm and sleek, lining up alongside her torso as she reached between them. When she wrapped her fingers around him, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

But then moments later, he removed her hand, gently but firmly, and covering her mouth with his, settled over her. His weight felt blessedly solid and warm, and she pressed her curves up into the solid planes that made his torso, imprinting herself on him, holding him close.

When he slid fully home, she closed her eyes and thought… at last.

Giulia came to him in his dreams… in a more real way than she had for many months.

Sebastian didn’t know if it was the amount of brandy he’d consumed, or the fact that he’d finally accepted Victoria’s decision.

Either way, when he woke, it was to reach blindly for Max’s sister… only to find her no more substantial than Victoria.

Who had gone to Max.

Max’s sister.

Max’s lover.

Sebastian gnawed on bitterness, there in the breaking dawn.

The remnants of the dream still clung to his consciousness, and he closed his eyes again, trying to bring them back. He touched her long, dark hair-just as thick as Victoria’s, but without the curl. He looked into her Pesaro eyes, felt the warmth of her body next to his as he’d never done in reality.

In his dreams, he missed her. Grieved anew. And pined over the fact that it was he who’d ended her undead life, who’d sent her to eternal damnation.

And yet, in his dreams… her dark eyes were clear, uncondemning. Tender. Even… hopeful.

When he woke, Sebastian stared at the scarred, smoke-tinted ceiling in his cramped, impersonal room. What now? something asked in his mind.

What now?

“Say my name.”

“Max.”

Victoria closed her eyes. She might not be certain exactly where she was, or what had happened to that whispery pink gown, or even whether the glow from the window was moonbeam or early dawn… but one thing she knew for certain was the man next to her.

Her mouth curved beneath his as he bent to kiss her yet again. The scrape of his whiskers had long ceased to bother her tender skin, and her own musky taste lingered on his lips and tongue. His body was long and warm and very, very powerful. Very skillful.

Very welcome.

“And you are?” he murmured against her mouth, settling into her in a lovely, deep slide. Again. Oh, yes, again.

Victoria caught her breath, arching a bit closer to the hair-roughened skin pressed against hers. She spread her hands over the smooth slide of muscle on his back. Her world had slowed from a taut, frantic whirlwind to one slower, more deliberate.

She barely remembered to answer him. “I’m… Jane?”

His cheek moved, and she knew he was smiling.

Max smiling. A wonder.

But then her thoughts evaporated as that smile eased and they began to move together. His mouth against her neck, his face buried in her hair. She felt the warm rush of his breath and felt a whisk of lashes against her temple as pleasure rose inside her… higher, stronger… and then she slid over in a long, undulating wave.

She felt his quiet groan of completion against her cheek, and her eyes slid closed… and her long, loose, sated body eased into sleep.

Victoria woke sometime later. Even though her eyes were closed, she felt the burn of sunlight on them, and she knew it was well into the day.

She lay still for a moment, aware of the warmth of Max’s body next to her, afraid to open her eyes and find… whatever would be the results of the night before. The last time-the only other time-she and Max had been together thus, she’d awakened to a man with regret and bald fear blazing across his face.

She didn’t think she could accept that again.

She didn’t think her heart could.

A knock at the door had her eyes flying open, despite her intentions otherwise; but before she could respond, the knob turned, and it began to open.

In the bed behind her, Max growled, “Get out,” and Victoria saw the door jerk slightly open-as if someone jolted in surprise-and then whip shut, as if that same person was mortified. She smothered a chuckle. That would give Verbena something to talk about.

For days.

Girding herself, she turned her head to find Max’s dark eyes regarding her.

“Good morning… Jane,” he said. A slight twitch moved the corner of his mouth.

No regret. No fear. Even… a bit of humor? Victoria began to feel warmth bubble inside her. “Good morning. Do you have one foot on the floor, ready to dash off?” She kept her voice light, yet she realized that she was holding her breath.

“Is there a reason I should dash off? The return of a husband or lover?” he asked, his voice light… yet… yet… she felt an underlying edge to it. Subtle, but present.

“No.” She sat up. The coverlet fell away, drawing his attention… and his fingertips… to her bared torso. “Max,” she said, as his long, elegant fingers brushed gently over her skin, “I want you to know that… it was never like this with Sebastian. What I mean to say is, he never… we never slept. Or woke. Together. It was always much more… furtive with Sebastian.”

“Hmm,” said Max, in a decidedly un-Max-like tone, “should I be offended that you do recall his name after all?”

But then the glint of humor ebbed, and his face grew serious. “I preferred not to think about what did and didn’t occur between the two of you.”

“Nothing,” Victoria said, noticing the way the white sheets appeared so crisp against his dark skin, “like what happened last night.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, perhaps… some of the mechanics were similar,” she replied, with a tug of guilt. It had been much more than mechanics with Sebastian. But they hadn’t left her feeling as sated, as content… as fulfilled… as she did now.

Max slid from beneath the covers, and Victoria turned to watch his tall, graceful body. The silver vis bulla still hung from his areola. She remembered in a burst of clarity the way the smooth, warm metal had clinked against her teeth last night and the extra surge of power she felt from it.

Mmm.

But as Max scanned the room, Victoria smothered a smile. Having been married, she was well used to men’s early-morning needs and gestured Max toward the chamber pot in the dressing room beyond.

While he was gone and she took advantage of the privacy for her own needs, Victoria wondered not for the first time what had changed his mind. Not that she’d spent a lot of energy mulling over it during the activities of the night… and morning. But it worried her.

Max had been pushing her at Sebastian for months. He’d been ready to leave last night, and Victoria had no illusion that he’d have returned.

But she’d said something that had changed his mind, for Victoria knew that the sheer pink night rail hadn’t done the job on its own, and she suspected that what had tipped the scales was the confession that she’d not been with Sebastian in months.

I’ve no interest in Vioget’s leavings.

Or is it that you don’t want to know your child’s patrimony?

That had to be it. He’d made comments before about her long line of lovers, and he’d thought she meant to dally with them both. She hoped last night’s confession had set him straight.

When Max came back into her chamber, he stood in the doorway for a moment lacing his simple trousers. Victoria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She forgot her intent to confront him about his decision to stay. Those sleek muscles, the broad, square shoulders, the dark hair dusting swarthy skin…

“Did you learn anything from Vioget yesterday?” he asked without preamble.

Victoria looked sharply at him, but she saw nothing but normal interest in his expression. Ah. Back to the matter at hand. “He says we need the Rings of Jubai,” she replied, feeling his gaze follow her as she pulled on a thin robe. “He also told me that Lilith has protections on the pool at Muntii Fagaras so that no one can breach the water.”

“And the rings? To trade with Lilith so we can get the orb?”

Victoria shook her head. “Lilith had them made-five copper rings that she gave to her most powerful Guardian vampires. According to Sebastian, when all five are worn on one hand, they allow the hand to reach safely into the pool.”

Max’s face had become more serious and intent as she spoke. He nodded once. “Vioget’s information is usually accurate. At least his years with Beauregard have brought us some advantage.”

“We have two of the Rings of Jubai,” Victoria said, more to herself than to Max. “One Sebastian retrieved from Lilith’s underground lair last month.”

“I recall,” Max replied drily. Indeed he should, for Victoria and Sebastian had intended to trade the ring for Max’s freedom if there was no other way for him to escape from Lilith. “And the other is in the Consilium.”

“Sebastian tells me a third is somewhere in Prague.”

“Prague? I haven’t been there in years,” Max said. “Does Vioget know where?”

“He claims he can locate it. He’s already agreed to go with me.” She looked at him. “And you… if you wish.”

Max straightened and looked out the window. His dark hair hung, rumpled and thick, framing his face, brushing the sides of his neck, making Victoria want to touch it.

But she wasn’t yet confident enough to do so. Max could just as easily pull back as allow it.

“I must find a vampire,” he said, still looking out the window. His jaw seemed tight, and the beam of sunlight scored his high cheekbones.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, a knock on the door startled her. She turned. “Yes?”

Orange hair poked bashfully around the corner, followed by Verbena’s pert nose and sandy eyelashes. “Would ye be wantin’ somethin’ to break the fast? Eh… I thought y’might be hungry. It’s nearin’ to noon.”

Victoria checked her smile as Verbena glanced balefully at Max, who, in his disheveled, shirtless state with the set look on his face, did look rather intimidating.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied to her maid, choosing to answer for both of them.

But she hadn’t forgotten Max’s statement… one that sounded almost as if it had been wrung from him.

As soon as Verbena quit the room-after having rested a tray laden with food on the dressing table-Victoria simply raised a brow at Max. And waited.

“For the Trial,” he said. “All of the vampires have quit London, but I need one if I’m to undertake the Trial again.”

Suddenly assaulted by a variety of emotions, Victoria fell to examining the victuals brought by her maid. Fear… a sudden thrust of fear, accompanied by a thrill of excitement… and the soft nudge of some other gentler emotion. Tenderness?

“Max,” she began.

But he held up his hand, turning at last from the window to face her. “I’d already decided, before… last night.” Was it her imagination, or did his voice falter a bit at the end? Grow a bit husky with memory? Or was it merely wishful thinking? “But if we’re to go to Prague, and find the rings…” He stopped. His mouth tightened and she saw, even felt, the ripple of tension settle over his body. “I presume Lilith has the other two.”

Victoria nodded. According to Sebastian, Lilith had managed to retain only two of her rings. When she saw the expression on Max’s face, her stomach turned into a ball of lead.

They would have to find some way to retrieve the last two Rings of Jubai from the vampire queen-either by her cooperation, for the protection of her race as well as theirs, or by violence.

And she knew if Max survived the Trial and became a Venator again, he’d be in the thick of whatever it was.

If Victoria thought that things with Max would change completely after he divested her of that pink froth (which, incidentally, Verbena had found crumpled beneath one of the tables at the top of the staircase… in two pieces), she was wrong.

It felt as if they wore new clothing that didn’t fit quite right yet.

Offering a vague excuse, Max left the bedchamber shortly after Verbena did, grabbing up a chunk of cheese wrapped in crusty bread and casting a lingering look over Victoria as he slipped out the door.

He didn’t kiss her… though she could tell he wanted to.

She sighed in exasperation after he’d gone. He was definitely not comfortable with this new arrangement. However, she stretched and smiled and rolled onto her stomach to bury her face in the sheets, inhaling his scent still imprinted on the pillow… taking a rare moment in her stressful life to simply enjoy something that most people took for granted.

Soon enough-tomorrow-they’d be traveling posthaste to Prague, and then on to wherever Lilith was, and there would be little time for pleasure of any kind.

If it wasn’t enough that Victoria suddenly felt odd in her skin around Max, she also had to contend with her mother, for Lady Melly called not more than two hours later.

“My dear Victoria,” Lady Melly said, frowning at her daughter, “whatever is the matter with you?”

Victoria blanched a bit, her hand moving to her neck as though to feel for… what? Vampire bites? Love bites? “What do you mean, Mother?”

“Why, you look as though you can barely walk. Did you have a fall?”

Victoria’s face warmed and her hand fell from her throat. “No, indeed. I’m simply a bit… tired.”

“Well, you certainly don’t look tired,” Melly said, eyeing her critically. “You look… well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think… well.”

Was that a flush settling over her mother’s cheeks?

“Mother, I’m sorry that I don’t have time to visit, but I was just leaving.”

“Leaving? Are you making calls? Perhaps I’ll go with you… but you aren’t dressed for calls, Victoria. You simply cannot wear-”

“Mother,” Victoria interrupted, gesturing at Charley to call for a carriage that she didn’t really need. Desperate circumstances required desperate acts.

“I’m not making calls. I have to meet with Aunt Eustacia’s barrister,” she explained, thinking quickly. “It appears I might have to travel back to Rome to attend to business there.” That, at least, was true… the business being retrieving the copper ring from the Consilium. But from there, it would be on to Prague.

“You are going to the barrister, instead of him calling here? Why that’s simply not done, Victoria! Not by a marchioness, indeed not. And where are your gloves? I daresay-”

“Mother,” Victoria said, enunciating clearly, “I must not be late for my appointment. Was there something you wished to speak with me on?”

“Why… why… and did you say going to Rome? To handle business? But, Victoria, that’s why you have a barrister to manage all of the inheritance from your aunt. There’s no need for you to dirty your hands with that. Speaking of which, where are your gloves? And”-her voice became more strident as her daughter opened her mouth to respond-“aside of that, the apparent Marquess of Rockley has arrived in London this day… which was why I hurried over to notify you.”

“Thank you for that pertinent information, Mother,” Victoria said drily. She glanced longingly toward the door.

At that moment, it opened and Max stepped in.

Lady Melly looked at him. Up at him. And she took a step back. A slight one, but a step nevertheless. Her attention darted to Victoria, as if to measure her response to the imposing man who’d just entered her home uninvited.

Melly had met Max only briefly over the years that he assisted Aunt Eustacia, and Victoria wasn’t certain whether she even remembered or recognized him.

“Your carriage is waiting, my lady,” Max said in the driest of voices. There was no mistaking him for a footman. Victoria saw a glint of humor in his eyes, and she lifted her chin in an effort not to smile.

“I’m sorry, Mother, but I simply must go. Do give the marquess my best wishes.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I shall likely be leaving for Rome tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Lady Melly shrieked.

Victoria winced.

Max grimaced, and Victoria slipped past him through the open door. Her mother’s words followed her like the screech of an owl, and Victoria dimly registered something about a welcome ball for the presumed marquess.

“You must give him my regrets, Mother,” she said over her shoulder, certain that Melly would at least seize upon the excuse to speak to the marquess if she didn’t have a daughter to thrust at him.

To Victoria’s surprise, Max followed her to the carriage. He spoke briefly to the groom, and then stepped inside. The door closed, and as the vehicle started off with a gentle lurch, Max settled in the seat… across from her.

Apparently, old habits died hard.

For a moment, the only noise was the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the cobbled street and the faint creak of the carriage springs. Victoria studied him, feeling as though at last she’d earned the privilege of watching him as long and as hard as she wished.

As he often did, Max gazed out the small window, giving her little more to look at than the profile of a strong, straight nose and solid chin, now clean-shaven. And his mouth.

Her own mouth dried just a little, as she remembered with perfect clarity all of the wonderful places those lips had been, and all of the breathtaking things they’d done. Victoria’s belly did that little flip that settled into a warm tingling through her limbs, and she swallowed.

“Rather a shame to hitch up the horses for a drive around the block,” she commented drily, breaking the silence at last. “But I knew that, short of leaving the house, I’d not escape from Mother.”

“I thought perhaps you might have another use for the carriage.”

Victoria looked sharply at him, but he still peered out the window. She couldn’t tell from his profile whether that glint of humor… or heat… was there in his eyes.

But heat definitely warmed her cheeks.

“Such as?” she asked.

He lounged back into a corner of the blue velvet squab, resting an arm along the top of it. At last he turned to look at her. A dangerous glint lingered in his dark eyes, but he merely replied, “A visit to Fleet Street? Don’t you need some fripperies or furbelows for your trip to Roma?”

“Why, Max, do you mean to say you wish to go shopping with me?” She batted her eyelashes coyly. “How unexpectedly accommodating of you.”

Max’s response was a snort that sounded suspiciously like “Like hell,” but those beautiful lips tightened as though trying to keep from smiling. “I had plenty of bloody shopping when I courted Sara.”

“Ah, yes, you would have done.” Now Victoria couldn’t hold back a smile. She no longer cared about Max’s false courtship with Sara Regalado, and could find humor in the thought of him dutifully following the fashion-conscious Italian girl from shop to shop. Max would do anything in the name of duty.

Anything.

Victoria sobered. “Max, you don’t have to take the vis bulla again. It doesn’t matter to me.”

His face stilled, matching hers in seriousness. “It does to me.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said, unable to hold the words back. Blast. She sounded like a weak woman! She, Illa Gardella. Was this what love did?

Max gave a humorless laugh. “The feeling is quite mutual, Victoria. But the fact is, something is much more likely to happen to me if I don’t take the vis.”

He was right, of course. Max wouldn’t stop fighting vampires without the power of the vis bulla, and so far his lack of Venatorial strength hadn’t kept him from being coveted by Lilith. Only three weeks earlier, Lilith had had Max in her possession and Victoria and the other Venators had helped him to escape.

“And to you,” he added. His dark eyes settled on her, and she felt a burst of warmth. And fear.

This emotion, this tingling, sparking connection that bound them frightened her-it was strong yet uncertain.

And the future was frightening, for she couldn’t imagine it without Max.

“Max,” she began, but he cut her off.

“What you fail to understand, Victoria,” he said, his voice low, cool, “is that I now have no choice. I will go through the Trial, and I will succeed.”

“Are you saying that I’ve forced you into it?”

“Of course not.” His mouth flattened.

“Why did you decide to stay last night?” she asked boldly.

“I was previously… Well, I had no desire to share you. With anyone.”

As she had suspected. “You thought that I would linger in Sebastian’s bed and then come to you?” Victoria wasn’t certain whether to be angry or insulted. So she kept her voice steady.

Max’s eyes turned flat and black. “You forget that I’ve observed you and your various beaus over the last two years. You never seemed to settle on one for long.”

She could have allowed the righteous fury to burst forth, skewering him with her words, but Victoria sensed something unspoken beneath his comments. Something he masked very well. So she chose bald honesty. “I never have. Until now.”

The belligerence in his eyes died. His mouth relaxed. But he didn’t speak.

“Max,” she began, unsure what was about to come from her mouth… and then her breath trailed off. Because he was looking at her again like he had last night… through hot eyes filled with intent and boldness.

“I begin to see the attraction of carriage rides,” he said, and reached forward to close his fingers around her wrist. “The rhythm, the privacy…”

She saw the flash of a decidedly wicked smile before she flowed across the divide, into his arms.

“Most definitely the privacy,” she murmured after a moment, pulling a bit away from the long, sleek kiss. “No Verbena to interrupt us. Poor girl,” she said, paused for a lovely little mash of lips, then continued. “She’s half terrified of you anyway… and you bellowed at her this morning.”

He smiled against Victoria’s mouth, his fingers already loosening the buttons at the back of her gown. Efficient in everything he did, of course.

Then suddenly, he stopped and gathered her close. One strong hand curved around the back of her head, fingers sliding into the loose knot there, palm cupping the base of her neck, and the other at the center of her back, where the gown had begun to gap open. “Victoria,” he said into her ear, barely audible, “I can’t let anything happen to you. I simply cannot. That’s what I meant by having no choice.”

She pulled back, looking into his eyes. “I’ve made the same choice, Max. Don’t you understand?”

He turned away, his face becoming rigid. “I almost wish you hadn’t. Almost,” he added sharply, before she could argue.

Now he moved away, putting space between them, tilting her off his lap and into her own corner of the seat. “It’s you that doesn’t understand, Victoria.” He grabbed up her hand, closing his strong brown fingers around hers, covering her slender white hand with his broad, square one. “You called me a coward once.”

“Twice,” she reminded him.

The flicker of a smile ticked at the corner of his lips. “Yes, then, twice. And it’s true. I am a coward. I’ve fought this for so long-”

“How long, Max? Since you peeked at me changing in the carriage?” Victoria couldn’t resist.

Again, that involuntary twitch of lips. “Long enough. And I’ve already told you, I had no desire or reason to peek.” Then the sobering mood returned, this time laced with underlying anger. “Be quiet and let me say this.”

He glanced out the window. “The hardest thing I’ve ever done was when I… executed Eustacia. I loved her like a mother, a leader, a mentor and a friend… and she ordered me to kill her.”

“You had to, Max,” Victoria said earnestly, her fingers tightening inside his. “You had to in order to get close enough to the vampires to destroy the obelisk.”

In fact, Aunt Eustacia had ordered Max to sacrifice her in order to prove his loyalty to the vampires.

“Goddammit, I know that, Victoria. Of course I had to-it was the right thing to do. One life sacrificed in order to save countless others. I hated myself for doing it. I loathed the fact that I had to… but I did. I didn’t hesitate. I did what bloody well had to be done.”

He turned from the window then to look at her, bleakness in his eyes, austerity in his face. “But if it had been you? I couldn’t have done it. Do you understand? I could not have done it.”

He pulled his hand from hers. “That’s what I’m afraid of, Victoria. A choice like that.”