No Matter

Lord Grefham took her face between his hands. "You are no danger to me," he commented, almost bemused, as he held her eyes with his own. Then his mouth twisted grimly, and his hands seemed to harden, "only when I am without you."
Lupin swallowed, but did not break their gaze. Her eyes were not fully credulous, and a wariness burnt quietly in their depths, but she looked back nonetheless. His hands moved to her shoulders, where he gripped her more strongly. His eyes narrowed. "If you were to be the death of me," he said coldly, almost drawling, "it would be no matter."
Lupin's eyes widened suddenly at that and she drew back. She turned to sit squarely against the squabs and crossed her arms. Her chin rose. "I very well may be," she replied, tightly.
He reached for her again and brought her close, moving her to sit across his lap. His movements were strong, as if he reigned in an urging anger. He stilled, holding her to him for a moment, and then slowly drew back. He looked at her, his eyes heavy lidded, and a small, lopsided smile played about his mouth. It could have been called mocking if it was not strangely sweet. "Would you not do the same for me?" he asked. Lupin took a deep breath, looking at him determinedly, seeming to plunge the depths of his words. He only looked back, questioning, his brows raised faintly in polite question. She took in and let out a breath quickly, and her eyes lowered to look down at her left hand, laying quietly on his silk-covered knee. "Yes," she said flatly, as if in defeat, "I would. So I cannot expect more than that of you."
He laughed, a small laugh, but a true one, and bent to kiss her ear. "Quite so, my dear," he remarked, "No, you cannot expect more than that of me - perhaps even less. For 'tis true, what's been said of me - I'm the very devil."