Free Mina Wentworth and the Invisible City by Meljean Brook Page B

shoulders hunched and eyes brimming with tears.
    He must seem like a giant towering over her. Rhys went down on his knee, extended his hand to her. “Are you all right?”
    With her teeth digging into her bottom lip, she nodded. His heart pounded with dizzy relief as she put her palm in his.
    Carefully, he pulled her into an embrace, closed his eyes when she threw her arms around his shoulders. God, he’d needed this. Needed to feel her little arms around him. How had he not known that before? “Come home,” he said, voice thick. “Whatever happened, we’ll help you.”
    She mumbled against his neck. “You might not want me anymore.”
    He couldn’t bear that she might think so—not when he remembered saying it to Mina once. At the time, Rhys hadn’t known how he’d hurt her, but he saw a similar pain now in this girl. He didn’t know how, but he’d find some way to convince Anne that he would never not want her, for any reason.
    But for now, he’d give her what he had.
    “We do want you. I swear it.” He smoothed her hair back from her face, looked her in the eyes. “All right?”
    Though she still looked uncertain, the girl nodded. Perhaps that was all that she could give now, too. If it brought her home, it was enough.
    He looked her quickly over when she stepped back. Except for the bruise and the cut, he didn’t see any other injuries—and though he wanted to crush whoever had done this to her, Rhys wouldn’t push her about it now. He’d wait until Mina was with him . . . but he wasn’t certain whether to take her to Mina now, or to wait.
    But there was one man here who’d know better than any other. “Is Mina’s father here?”
    “I’m here.” Rockingham’s voice answered. Rhys glanced up. Mina’s father stood near the gate, with a sleeping infant cradled in his arm. The earl studied Anne for a long second, seemed satisfied by what he saw. “This baby was left at the gate a little while ago. Anne had just been helping me infect it with nanoagents when you arrived. Mina used to assist me when she was Anne’s age, too.”
    Hearing that pleased the girl. Her face brightened.
    “How many babies are left here?” Rhys wondered.
    “Enough that I stay busy,” Rockingham said, and Rhys wasn’t surprised. A crèche was a way of life for many of the others who’d been raised in one, too—they would never imagine keeping a child. The earl glanced at Anne before looking to Rhys again. “I sent a message on to Mina, letting her know that Anne was here, but she’ll probably want to see her.”
    Anne’s expression dimmed. “Will she be angry?”
    Not if her reaction was anything like Rhys’s had been.
    “I think she’ll be so glad to see you that nothing else will matter. But even if she is angry, she’ll listen to you. And no matter what you’ve done, if she understands why you’ve done it, her anger will probably pass.” Rhys knew this too well. Drunk, he’d once lost all sense and terrified Mina, forced himself on her. Nothing Anne could do would ever equal that trespass. Mina had forgiven him because he hadn’t meant to hurt her, because he hadn’t realized that he was frightening rather than pleasuring her—and because he’d been horrified when he had realized the truth of it. He hadn’t deserved her pardon, but he thanked God that she’d given it. “She’s an inspector, remember. She always considers motivations, intentions. Did you mean any harm?”
    Eyes filling again, Anne shook her head.
    “So tell her—and don’t lie. If you do, she’ll know, eventually. So even if you’re ashamed of what happened, tell her the truth.”
    “All right.” Her voice was thin, uncertain again. “Will we wait for her at home?”
    Rhys didn’t know. He looked to Mina’s father, who knew how family worked, who knew what little girls needed. Rockingham gave a small nod.
    “We’ll wait at home,” Rhys confirmed. “We’ll send another message and let her know you’ll be there