A few minutes later, upstairs, Honoré finds McGauran sitting on the bedroom window sill, sipping on a glass of brandy and gazing out at the carré.
His heart speeds and he goes to him. “I saw Maggie. She’s in no danger.”
McGauran sets his glass down on the side table and slips a hand into Honoré’s hair, studying his face him with almost furious eyes.
“What is it?”
“I need to tell you something.”
His heart flutters a little. “Yes?”
McGauran sighs heavily, as though he needs to shed a burden. “I don’t know what you’ll think of it. If a man should say such a thing to another man.”
“What, please, tell me.”
“I—” McGauran stops, shakes his head.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers.
McGauran takes a shallow breath and looks straight into his eyes. “I love you, Honoré. I love you. If there was
