“Because it hurts, sometimes, and it’s nice to take away the pain,” he murmured. “Do you ever hurt, Countess?” “Sometimes,” she whispered, mesmerized. “Poor Countess.” He released her face and she missed his touch immediately, but before she could react, he slid his arms around her and enfolded her against him, exactly as she had longed for him to do. He might be mad or dangerous or drunk or anything, but she didn’t care. He was holding her, and she wanted nothing else.
