“Are you prepared for that, Georgina?” His use of her given name echoed with history. A quiet intimacy shaped by memory and something unspoken between them. “To play the part of the reckless widow meeting her lover at dusk? If they believe we’re distracted, they’ll move the coal.”
A flicker of dry humor crossed her expression, but beneath it, a spark of something far warmer.
“I’ve played far less agreeable roles in my time, Alex,” she replied. “This one, I believe, I shall enjoy.”
Something shifted in his expression then. Not a smile, not quite. But the slow, inevitable gravity of a man drawn in, despite every warning in his blood.
“Then we must make it convincing,” he said at last, his voice a shade rougher, the edges softened by the dusk. “For them.”
“For them,” she agreed, though her eyes held to his with a steadiness that made him wonder if, just this once, she spoke the truth of herself instead.
He offered his arm. She took it without hesitation.
Together, they crossed the yard, passing between the orderly rows of carts, walking as if they were blind to everything but each other. But Alex saw it all, every shift in the shadows, every whisper of coal dust on the breeze. So did she.
Together, they were far from blind. They moved across the mine yard as though it were a ballroom, the shadows drifting like columns of candle smoke.
The closer they drew to the Ravenstock seam, the more deliberate their steps became. Alex’s hand, warm at the crook of her elbow, was steady and reassuring. She leaned into it just enough to sell theillusion, but the truth was, she didn’t need to feign her awareness of him. It thrummed through her veins like a second pulse.
They paused near the stack of emptied carts, just as they’d planned, the perfect vantage point for their charade, and for their scrutiny.
“Eyes,” Alex murmured, low enough that only she could hear. “On the ridge. Watchful.”
“I see them.” Her lips barely moved, but her words curled into him all the same.
Beyond the mine entrance, shapes lingered in the half-light. Idle hands pretending to work. Shovels stirring dust rather than debris. And in the shadows above, a figure shifted too quickly to be part of honest labor.
“They’re watching for a reaction,” Georgina observed, calm and quiet.
“Then let’s give them one to enjoy,” Alex replied.
The dusk pressed close around them, the scent of coal and rain heavy in the air.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to draw its breath, waiting.
The steadiness of his nearness, the familiar danger of it, and she wondered when pretending had become the truest thing between them.
He stepped closer, his gaze fixed not on the mine but on her, as though she were the only thing in the world worth his attention. His hand slipped from her elbow to her waist, a casual gesture, practiced perhaps, but not false. Not entirely.
“You’re enjoying this more than you ought,” she murmured, her voice pitched for him alone.
His mouth curved, the barest hint of a wicked smile. “I find I enjoy a great many things in your company, Georgina.”
Their eyes held. The spark between them no longer kindling but burning steady and bright.
“You are not acting now,” she whispered, her breath feathering against his cheek.
“Neither are you,” he countered just as softly.
And then, as though it were the most natural conclusion to their charade, he lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was no accident. No hasty brush meant for watching eyes. It was deliberate and dangerously real.
Her hand came to his chest to steady herself against the surge of sensation that shattered the illusion of pretense. His heart beat hard beneath her palm, as wild and relentless as her own.
For a moment, they forgot the watchers in the shadows.
For a moment, the mine, the risk, all of it blurred to the edges of their awareness. All of it eclipsed by the heat of something older than coal and more combustible than gunpowder.
