“Are you?” she asked. “Again, I mean?”
He groaned. She did think ill of him for kissing her.And why shouldn’t she?He had a goal to marry a lady, and Beatrice knew it.Had that changed?It hadn’t. Any relationship he had with her had to stop at friendship. Kissing her, no matter how compelled he’d felt earlier, was beyond the pale and couldn’t happen again. He could only blame an overwhelming compunction once, and it had been truly overwhelming. One moment, he’d been sipping tea, and the next thing he knew, when their fingers brushed, desire for her sang through his body. He’d given in to it without thinking.
If their kiss gave her the wrong idea, it would be his own fault. Moreover, the last thing he wanted to do was lead her on. Since a second occurrence must be construed as deliberate, he would never let that happen.
What could he say?“I truly am sorry.”
“You should have placed the mug back upon the countertop and that wouldn’t have happened,” she said. “In the future, avoid touching ladies’ hands, especially when they are not wearing gloves.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “As I suspected,” he said. “There are rules for everything, even tea cups.”
She sighed and shrugged slightly. “I may close early, Mr. Carson. I think my mother will understand. Getting home in the early hours of the morning isn’t conducive to working in a shop all day.”
“No, I imagine it isn’t. I confess I slept in.”
“I confess I did, too,” she said. “Yet, I’m tired in any case.”
“Very well.” She was right. He should leave, mainly because he’d been so surprised by the strong desire to kiss her, he wasn’t positive it wouldn’t come upon him again. Therefore, it was prudent not to put either of them at risk.
“I’ll get my coat.”
With her silence as agreement, he passed through the opening between the counters and went into the back room. Grabbing up his coat, he shrugged into it quickly, hell-bent on returning to the front before anyone else came in. Snatching up his hat, he passed through the curtain, to see she hadn’t moved.
“Two days until the next ball,” he reminded her.
“Without the benefit of it being in the familiar territory of my sister’s home.”
“I’m sure we will muddle through,” Greer promised, not sure at all. Patting his pocket, he added, “Thank you for the toffee.” And bit his tongue before he also thanked her for the most splendid kiss he’d ever had.
***
AS SOON AS THE DOORclosed behind Mr. Carson, Beatrice took in a large ragged breath and blinked back unexpected tears. Then she did, in fact, lock up and flip the sign hanging from a pretty blue ribbon to indicate they were no longer open for business. After all, she’d made more from that awful louse of a baron than they’d made in the previous two days. She could afford to close up shop early.
Even if she hadn’t received the windfall, she would have had to close. She needed peaceful quiet to tame her ardent emotions. That kiss for which Mr. Carson so blithely apologized had been sublime and soul-shaking. Alone, she could relive it, the way he drew her toward his person, wrapped his strong arms around her, held her with ungloved hands. When his warm, firm lips touched hers, the world had shrunk to the back room of Rare Confectionery, and nothing else had existed.
If that awful lord hadn’t intruded, they might have been kissing still.
She giggled nervously at the ridiculous thought. Of course, they wouldn’t have still been kissing. However, it might have gone on a little longer. Perhaps long enough for Mr. Carson to realize they suited one another perfectly, regardless of her untitled state.
After all, with his personal wealth, he could buy some other country house. He didn’t need that old Scottish abandoned manor.Did he?
The tears pricked her eyes again. Their encounter and the knowledge it could never lead to anything saddened her. Having already cleaned up her workstation and everything else except their mugs being washed, she set them in the sink and poured the last of the soapy water from a pot on the stove into them. Charlotte would deal with it in the morning or leave it for her to do when Beatrice went in later the next day. No matter.
Pouring the remainder of the tea down the drain, she tossed the leaves into the stove to help bank the coals and then finished the job. Thankfully, she had a fifteen-minute walk before she reached her doorstep, time enough to settle her thoughts and realize nothing had changed.
Before she left the back room, she spied a white cloth on the floor by the stool. Picking it up, she realized it was Mr. Carson’s ascot. Without thinking, she buried her face in the soft material, breathing in his familiar scent. Her body tingled again.
Blue blazes!The American had worked his way into her heart and mind. She couldn’t deny it. Stuffing the ascot into the seam pocket of her day dress, she straightened. She would find a husband at one of those horrid dances. And even if she didn’t, Mr. Carson would never be hers.
