And so it was that they squeezed inside a hackney carriage (Scudamore’s curricle having been commandeered to transport its owner to gaol) and made their way to Anne’s lodging house. Anne hated to rouse the whole house in the middle of the night, but that was exactly what ended up happening, as nobody wanted to miss the excitement. Mrs. Godfrey supervised the bathing of their new arrivals (as well as Nick, over his protestations that he wasn’t that sooty.)
The children were peering up at Michael with a touch of hero worship. He ducked his head and demurred when asked how he had received such impressive injuries.
Unfortunately for him, the tiny witnesses who had been peering out from the darkened corners of the room were much less circumspect.
“T’was four against one, battle royale—”
“Took a fist right in the eye and didn’t even blink—”
“And then his lordship gave it to him plump in the breadbox—”
“He’s an out and outer, all right—”
“A nonesuch, is what he is—”
“And then her ladyship shot him!”
“What?” Mrs. Godfrey cried, turning to Anne. “You shot someone, my lady?”
Anne started to duck her head, but she stopped herself. Instead, she lifted her chin. “Why, yes. Yes, I did.”
“Aye,” Nick said with an air of authority, “her ladyship is bang up to the mark. Don’t be letting nobody tell you any different.”
It was four in the morning by the time Anne and Michael found themselves climbing the steps to her town house.
They made their way to Anne’s room. Word had gotten back to the household about their exploits, and there was a copper tub set out before the fire in Anne’s room. Anne waved off her maid’s offer of assistance, and Hugh’s as well. She wanted to tend to Michael herself.
But first, there was something she needed to tell him.
“God, that bath looks divine,” Michael was saying as he unbuttoned his jacket. “I’ve sore muscles in places I didn’t even know existed.”
“Michael,” Anne said.
He groaned as he shrugged out of his jacket. “I’m going to need some help getting my boots off. I don’t think I can bend over.”
“Michael,” Anne said again.
He started at the sight of a hole in the shoulder of his jacket, which was also marred with bloodstains. “Look at this—I think it’s a bullet hole. That bastard almost shot me!” He groaned as he tossed it aside. “Fighting off four thugs will be nothing compared to your brother’s tailor when he sees this. Pinkerton is definitely going to kill me.”
“Michael, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Of course, darling,” he said, pulling his shirt up over his head. “Just let me get out of these bloodstained clothes and into that tub.”
She winced as the mess of rapidly darkening bruises covering Michael’s chest and arms came into view. She crossed the room and took his hands. “No, Michael. I need to tell you right now.”
He glanced at her as he turned toward the tub, and what he saw caused him to jerk his head back around. Because, of course, he could read her face, and she could read his, and she saw the exact moment he realized that the thing she needed to tell him so urgently was that she loved him. Incandescent happiness radiated from his eyes (or at least, from the one that wasn’t swollen shut).
“Michael,” she began, “I—”
She didn’t get to finish because his lips crashed down on hers.
She tried again when he lifted his head. “I—”
He lifted her up and began spinning her in a circle.
“Michael!” she protested. “Put me down. I want to look you in the eyes when I tell you.”
After a moment he complied, a huge grin on his face. She tried again, but only got as far as, “M—” before he started kissing her again.
“Will you stop that?” she said when he finally lifted his head. “I want to say it!”
“And you’re going to say it. A thousand times today, and another thousand tomorrow, and a thousand the day after. You’re going to grow so sick of saying it.”
“No, I won’t. I can think of nothing I would rather do than tell you that I love you, Michael Cranfield, a thousand times a day for the rest of our lives.”
He drank her words in, basked in them, treasured them. When he spoke, his voice was a trifle unsteady. “And I love you, my darling Anne.”
Then he was kissing her again, and it didn’t matter that he had pulled one of his wounds open and was bleeding on the carpet, or that she smelled of horse. The moment was simply perfect.
They were still smiling as she helped him finish undressing and ease himself into the tub.
“As soon as I saw that knife at your throat, I knew,” she said as she lathered his back. “I knew, and I felt like such a fool for not having realized it until I was going to lose you. After the incident at the picnic, I told myself it didn’t matter that you felt nothing for me but friendship, because that was what I felt for you, too. And I repeated that to myself so many times, I managed to convince myself it was true. I see now that it was really denial. You’ve always been in a separate category from everyone else. You’re my best friend, my favorite person, the one I can’t live without, the very finest man I know.”
She was now rubbing the washcloth over his chest, and that look of supreme masculine satisfaction settled over his features. “Please, go on,” he said, leaning back. “As exhausted as I am, I find that I could listen to your praise for several more hours. Preferably whilst you continue to give me a sponge bath.”
“If there was even one inch of you that wasn’t covered in bruises, I would poke you there. But my point is, I’ve felt that way about you for so long, I had come to think of it as ‘the way I feel about Michael.’ It wasn’t until that horrible moment that I realized that ‘the way I feel about Michael’ isn’t just friendship. It’s love.” She laughed. “I’ve loved you for years, Michael. Certainly, since that summer when we were fifteen. I just didn’t admit it to myself until tonight.”
He groaned with pleasure as she began to lather his hair. “Then I am glad to have been beaten black and blue and held at knifepoint. If that’s what it took to make you realize that you love me, I would do it all again.”
“Oh, God, never again—I was so terrified, Michael. I honestly don’t know how I made that shot. If you could have seen how much my hands were shaking—”
“I never doubted you. I knew you would save me.”
“You were actually what gave me the confidence to take the shot. I saw in your eyes that you believed in me, and—I somehow knew I could do it.”
“Of course you could. It’s something I’ve noticed—you don’t seem to understand how amazing you are. But don’t worry, I intend to remind you of it every day for the rest of our lives. Now, there are two things that we need to do before we can go to bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.”
“Oh? And what would those be?”
“You need a bath, and we need to make love. Conveniently, we can accomplish them both at the same time,” he said, reaching for the ties of her dress.
“Is that so?’ she asked. She tried to make her expression stern, but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I don’t think we’ll both fit in that tub. Indeed, you don’t even fit in that tub.”
“Which is why you will have to climb on top of me,” he said with a wolfish grin, “for your sponge bath, and for what will immediately follow.” He winced and rubbed his back ruefully. “I’m not moving as well as I’d like. I fear you’re going to have to be on top for the better part of a week.”
She smiled as she peeled off the remainder of her garments and climbed on top of him. “My darling Michael,” she said, smoothing her hands over his chest, “I have absolutely no objections.”