She wanted to rush to him, to take his hand and examine it for bruising and press soft kisses to it and let it lead her upstairs…but that wasn’t how this worked. So Bess stood still and reminded herself of his promise.
It was finally after.
Like last time, Nathaniel found her in the crowd and pointed at her, and once again, all conversation in the tavern went hushed for a heartbeat before coming back with a roar.
Nathaniel gave her a last, searing look before stalking out of the ring and through the door in the back of the tavern that led to the stairs.
Bess watched him go while she tried to gather her scattered thoughts and feelings. She hated that he’d fought, but at least it was over quickly. And really, it was probably all to the good that they maintain some semblance of structure to this thing they were doing. Rules. Order.
Anything that might help her keep her wayward emotions in check. For it was all too easy to imagine being swept away by this passion between them.
Bess had never experienced its like. With a pang of remembrance for Davy, she recognized that the sweet, innocent fumbling they’d done together was like a candle next to the blazing bonfire Nathaniel ignited in her. If she wasn’t careful, she would be burned away entirely by it, nothing but ashes left behind.
Well, she would simply have to remember that this was but a moment out of time, an interlude. More than a single night—she hadn’t been able to stop there. And she didn’t delude herself she’d be able to stop it on her own at any point, but she wouldn’t have to.
In three weeks, the Season would end, and she and Lucy would go back to Five Mile House.
Bess would go home with a treasure trove of memories to keep her warm in the long, lonely nights of her life. Nathaniel would stay here and probably marry a wealthy lady of perfect breeding.
And Bess would never see him again.
The thought tore at her, but she forced herself to contemplate it calmly. There was nothing to be gained by losing sight of reality, even as she made the conscious decision to step outside of it for these brief moments in Nathaniel’s arms.
He didn’t even know who she was. And that was the only reason they could be together at all.
Had she waited long enough to satisfy the rules of this encounter? Bess hoped so, for she couldn’t stand to tarry any longer. She started for the stairs, the crowd parting to let her through.
Madame Leda met her by the door that hid the staircase. “Back again, lamb? You are full of surprises.”
“Am I?” Bess smiled faintly.
“I thought you were here for just a taste, and that one taste would be enough. But it seems to have sparked a...craving.”
“Ah.” Bess struggled not to blush. “Yes. Well, you said to do what felt good.”
“It’s what I created this place for.”
Bess nodded. She had nothing to be ashamed of, and there was certainly no judgment or derision in Madame Leda’s lovely face. “I’m grateful to you. I found something here last week, something I’d been missing for a long while.”
“And tonight you’re back, hoping to find it again.” The proprietress cocked her head consideringly. “You didn’t partake of the food last time. Nor the wine. Should I bother tonight?”
Ashamed or not, the blush would not be held back any longer. Cheeks flaming, Bess nevertheless managed a smile. “Ah, perhaps not. I would hate to waste the food, or put your cook to any trouble.”
Looking charmed, Madame Leda opened the door and gestured Bess toward the stairs. “It’s an odd sort of lady who thinks about putting the servants to too much trouble.”
“Perhaps,” Bess acknowledged. “But then, I am not a lady.”
“Hmm. I think, in the ways that matter, you are.” Madame Leda smiled. “Go on, he’s waiting.”
Bess hesitated only a second before saying, “Actually, there is something I wonder if you can help me with…only it’s a little awkward. Very private.”
“Mmm,” Madame Leda purred, hooking their arms together as she turned away from the stairs and pulled Bess into the back room behind the bar instead. “My favorite kind of request. Tell Madame Leda everything.”
Nathaniel sat on the bed and told himself she wasn’t coming.
He’d already doused the lights, all but the one candle by the bed that she'd asked for last time. He’d given himself a cursory wash with the basin of water that had already been in the room, and he’d put the shirt back on when he was still damp, so now it clung to him in cold, wet patches.
The whole room felt cold. As cold as he’d been since the moment he woke up in this very bed a week ago and realized that it was over.
