Maybe I was going mad. Maybe he was driving me mad.
"What are you?" I demanded.
"Something more dangerous than you can imagine," he said, and I believed him. Oh, how I believed him.
"What you are promising me-the cure. Is it real?" Or do I also believe that because you want me to?
His voice was fervent, his brows lowering. "Oh, it is very, very real, Cora Shaw. I have no need to lie to you to take what you would freely give."
He was right. I knew he was. I closed my eyes, but I could still see him in my mind, looking at me, looking through me. He could hurt me. The throbbing of my finger had reached my wrist now, a very real pain. He had hurt me. But still I wanted to give him everything.
"That is why you must decide for yourself," he said gently. "Far away from here. Far away from my influence, and far away from me."
Though only anticipated, I already felt the separation like a jolt. "No," I breathed, my eyelids flying open.
The sorrow on his face wrung my heart even though I didn't understand it. "You may be the one, after all, Ms. Shaw. But I will have your permission, of your own free will. Not now."
"In two weeks," I said then, defeated.
"In two weeks," he agreed. "Not a day before. You have the number."
I nodded dumbly.
"Then call. And if you still wish to gamble the last months of your life on an outside chance, I will be happy to assist you." He treated me to a lopsided smile that made my lungs hurt. "For now, you have a dinner to enjoy in the finest restaurant that a glittering capital can boast. Enjoy."
The rest of the evening was a long blur, my unrelenting awareness of him pushing all my senses to a fever pitch. Even the food became a kind of torture, the delight of my taste buds only throwing my frustration into contrast. After the entrée, which was a balance of perfected simplicity and intricate garnishes, came a series of tiny desserts, each more decadent than the last, spaced to titillate and to indulge. Every taste was enmeshed with the overwhelming force of Mr. Thorne's presence, every bite taken with keen knowledge of his closeness and of his gaze upon me.
At the end of the meal, I fled to the ladies' room with equal parts relief and longing. As I washed my hands, I stared at my own reflection, trying to find the Cora I knew within it. Strands of my hair were escaping to curl around the sides of my face, and my cheeks had the first real flush that I'd seen in months. The shining dark eyes I barely recognized. They couldn't be my own, because I saw depths in them that I didn't understand.