Dying to Marry Him novel · Chapter 15 of 24

Chapter 15: Page Forty

Rook's POV

I left her asleep on the long table with my coat over her.

I did not want to go. The house does not ask what I want.

I could still taste her on my mouth, salt and smoke and the coffee she had not drunk.

My own hands were shaking, and I let them.

For thirty years I had been told where to stand, and for one night I had said stay and meant it.

I walked to the library door with that in my chest.

It was the first time I had ever walked anywhere afraid of losing something.

Gilt stood in the open door of the library with the green lamp burning behind him.

He did not step aside. He never does, because he knows exactly where my boots stop.

"Rook, my boy," he said. "She has put a face on you. I am so pleased."

"What do you want?"

"To make you an offer, and I want you to hear all of it before you do your sulking."

He held up one ringed finger.

"Tonight she writes you a whole face. Nose, jaw, brow, all of it. The story is finished, and the vow ends."

"Then you are free of this altar. The doors open for you. You walk out of the chapel on your own two feet."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"And the bride?" I said.

"Oh, I would let her go home." He pressed a hand to his waistcoat. "Through the kitchen door, with my blessing. You have my word."

I have stood at that altar for thirty years, and I have granted sixty-one vows.

I know what a bride is when her vow ends and nothing replaces it.

"A bride without a vow does not stay," I said.

"Does it say stay where?" Gilt asked pleasantly.

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