"Believe me," he chuckled into her hair, "I am, too." And he hoped it was a permanent solution and not just a bandage tied tightly over a gushing wound that would look promising for a time before blood began spreading across the muslin. But, he needed to take his own advice and not dwell on the what ifs or the questions that still lingered.
So, he pulled back slightly and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. As he gazed down at her, he couldn't help that goofy smile that spread across his lips again – that uncontrollable kind of smile that only appears in moments of intense happiness – the kind that lights up eyes and sets one's skin on fire. He leaned forward and kissed her so deeply that he could forget everything except the feel of her for a time. It was a kiss so passionate, so joyful, that nothing else mattered – not his death and resurrection, not his mother, not this weird horror story of a house....just her.
And then a pointed throat clearing interrupted his revere and he was forced to pull away and look up at the tattooed man who had come to spirit Cora away. He was back, alone this time, and had the look of someone who had been sent on the worst kind of chore imaginable.
"Come." His voice was gruff and gravely, "Your rooms are this way. The Lady's orders."