A Dangerous Collaboration (Veronica Speedwell, #4)

by Deanna Raybourn

I had sowed the seed of this quarrel, I reminded myself sternly; I could not now complain that I did not like the fruit it bore.

“I want Miss Rosamund. She were reading a book to me and she hadn’t finished. ’Twere a very good book too. About elopements and a brothel,” she added with a sharp nod.

“Brothels and elopements! You’ve no call to hear about such things at your age,” she said firmly. “You need a nice dose of your tonic from Miss Mertensia and a good nap.”

“I need a man,” the old woman said with a long, thoughtful look at Stoker. He stepped sharply behind me. “Save me,” he muttered into my ear.

“Hearts are the same as bones, you know,” she said as she picked up her tankard again. “Are they?” “Aye. One may be broken into a thousand pieces, but when they are bound together again and a heart is made whole, the love it gives will be all the fiercer.”

“Nay, child. The potion is for you. There is no heart as pitiable as one that cannot love.”

Stoker’s smile was slow and terrible. “You think that is love, brother? That I should kill for her?” He shook his head, his eyes locked with mine. “You are the fool, Tiberius, because you still do not understand. I do not love her enough to kill for her.” He stepped to the edge of the rock. “I love her enough to die for her.”

“Veronica Speedwell, I meant it then and I mean it now and I shall mean it with every breath until my last. I love you.”