“Say you will think about it.” He picked up his hat from the counter with a gentle smile. “That’s all I ask.”
Nell drew a shaking breath and nodded, her gaze fixed on the sincerity in his face. “I will think about it.”
“I shall call again soon.” He settled his hat on his head, his eyes lingering on her face with a warmth that felt like a shield. “If that’s all right.”
Nell managed a smile that felt fragile and thin on her lips. “I should like that.”
He nodded once, that quiet smile still playing at his mouth, and walked to the door. The bell chimed as he left. Nell stood alone behind her counter, staring at the empty doorway.
Two paths. One safe, one fire—yet one that made sense, one that burned.
She was still standing there, still staring at nothing, when the bell chimed again. Her heart stopped.
Sixteen
Dominic filled the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the afternoon light. His grey eyes found her immediately, burning with a restless energy. He looked as though he hadn’t slept. There were shadows under his eyes and a harsh tension in the set of his jaw. His cravat was tied carelessly, the way he’d pulled it together without the aid of a glass.
“Lord Westmore.” Nell’s throat tightened, making the words come out as a strangled rasp. Her hands once again found the edge of the counter, gripping the wood for support. “The shop is?—”
“I saw Hartley leaving.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a definitive click. His movements were deliberate, his hand reaching for the sign hanging in the window and flipping it to CLOSED.
Nell’s spine went rigid. She pressed back against the shelves of cooling bread, the warmth of the loaves seeped through her dress but did nothing to chill the fear in her chest. “You cannot just?—”
“I can.” He moved toward her, eating up the distance with long strides. “I am.”
“Someone will see.” Nell’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Let them.” He stopped at the counter, looming over her. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he searched her face with eyes the colour of a stormy sea. “What did he want?”
Nell lifted her chin, refusing to cower beneath the solid mass of his stare. “That is none of your concern.”
“Everything about you is my concern.” The words were scraped from somewhere deep in his chest. He braced his hands on the counter, leaning in until they were mere inches apart. “What did he want, Nell?”
“He made me an offer.” She held his gaze. “A good one.”
A spark lit within him, edged with cruelty and possession. His fingers curled against the wood until his knuckles blanched, mirroring the tension that seized his frame. “What kind of offer?”
“The kind that makes sense.” Nell forced the words out past the constriction in her throat. “Stability. Security. A father for my children. His name. Today, if I want it.”
His face drew taut, at the wordtoday, his expression fractured into a look of pure, jagged jealousy.
“And what did you say?” His words had thinned to a rough rasp. He leaned in further, making her skin prickle.
Nell clasped her hands in front of her to hide their trembling. “I said I would think about it.”
He stood there for a moment, utterly still, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. Then he moved. He rounded the end of the counter, invading her space and coming so close she could smell the scent of sandalwood and feel the heat radiating from his body.
She didn’t back up. She held her ground, her spine as straight as a poker.
“You are considering him.” He threw the words at her not as a question, but as an accusation, the pain in his expression raw.
“Of course I am considering him.” She kept her features schooled into something steady, though her hands remained locked together so tight her fingers ached. “He is everything Ishouldwant. Kind, steady, respectable. And he is free to offer it. No complications, no scandal, no whispers behind fans about the scheming baker who trapped a viscount.”
“Should.” He latched onto the word. His eyes turned to slits as he tilted his head. “Not do. Should.”
Nell’s lips pressed into a thin line until they ached. “It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.” He stepped closer still, towering over her. His breath was warm on her face. “Should is what other people want for you. Do what you want for yourself.” Nell went still.
