And that was fine, wasn’t it?
“First, I must establish myself in London.” This must remain her immediate concern. “As a widow, not some countrified debutante in search of a husband. As for the other…”
“You’ll be fine, princesse.”
She didn’t need him to complete the thought. That she’d be fine, without him.
A NOT SO MERRY CHASE
Walking back, they were quiet, and this time he did not attempt to take hold of her hand. Even Mr. Dog seemed to have lost his enthusiasm, slowing so much that Mr. Beckman scooped the pup into his arms to carry him the rest of the way.
She was sad that the natural pleasure they’d taken from one another’s company for most of this journey seemed to have fled.
But she had to be practical. She needed to protect herself. Perhaps that was something else she could learn from him; the ability to put up a wall so that not just any charming gentleman could disarm her.
“Ah… Here comes Mr. Daniels now.”
Which reminded her… “Why did you give him money? Earlier, before you sent him ahead.” It was not necessary. Mr. Daniels was being paid his salary to bring her to London.
Dash glanced at her sideways but then shifted his gaze away quickly. “To secure rooms for us in Amesbury. Why did you think I gave him money?”
She’d not thought of that. And of course, his explanation made perfect sense… only, it had seemed like considerably more money than would have been required to rent two rooms at a small village inn.
Perhaps she’d seen wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t been that much money after all.
“I will pay for my own,” she eventually settled on saying, though she wasn’t really upset about that.
Mr. Beckman and his secrets. It was such a part of his manner that she couldn’t even tell if this was another one or not.
The tension between them felt even thicker after that, as they climbed back into the carriage and rode the short distance into the very old town located conveniently close to the ancient landmark. Only Mr. Dog, who’d quite worn himself out, seemed comfortable as he took his spot between them, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he immediately fell asleep—eyelids not quite closed, of course.
And then…
“I want to kiss you again, princesse. You must know that.” Mr. Beckman didn’t look at her as he spoke, but continued staring out the window instead. “And I wish...” He ran a hand through his hair. His words jolted her. Just when she thought she had him figured out he said something to cause her to question her judgment.
“You wish?”
“I am… When I’m with you, I feel… mon dieu.” Finally, he turned to stare into her eyes. “I simply like being with you, and I don’t want to ruin the time we have left.” He looked more confused than she’d ever seen him, his eyes almost tormented, a frown of worry lining his forehead. “And I want…”
All she could do was stare back at him, holding her breath. Whatever was supposed to happen in Margate was definitely not something he looked forward to. She hated that he wouldn’t tell her what caused him so much anguish. Because, yes, she’d felt this anguish growing. She might be naïve, but she wasn’t obtuse.
“What do you want, Dash?” she finally asked when he did not finish his sentence.
His eyes blazed at her question. Although they sat side by side without touching, she felt his need.
And her…? Every inch of her skin craved his touch, her breasts ached, and deep inside of her, a throbbing, a wanting, made her want to cry.
“I want… what I cannot have.” He ground the words out. “But even more than that, I do not want to hurt you.” He placed one hand along the back of the bench and his fingers played with her hair. “Will you forgive me for all of this? Will you smile for me again, princesse?”
Ambrosia swallowed hard, wanting to throw herself into his arms so badly that she needed to grasp the edge of the seat to prevent herself from doing so.
“S’il te plaît?”
There was nothing she could deny him. And so, she held back her tears and lifted the corners of her mouth instead, wishing she could laugh. Because laughing was normal between the two of them. “There is nothing to forgive.”
She was saved from saying anything that would make them both even more uncomfortable as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of yet another inn, The King’s Arms. Mr. Beckman smiled weakly and then assisted her outside once again.
She was becoming far too dependent on his assistance.
