“Not as much as you’d think,” she said. And it might have been an offer, or it might have been just him dreaming. Either way, he could not seem to help himself. The narrative gravity drew them together slowly; so slowly, either one of them might have stepped back, packed their clothes, and left the room before the other moved an inch.
But they did not leave. And so the momentum or some unknown magic kept going, until at last their lips met.
—
Beth had beenkissed before. Many times! As a woman of the world, she was quite seasoned in the matter. Why, shecould not even counthow many men had kissed her gloved hand when greeting her. Then there had been thecopioustimes she’d been kissed on both cheeks by villagers grateful for her capturing a bird that had been threatening their lives (granted, elderly women villagers, but the point remained). Kissing was an altogether banal event. Certainly it did not compare to the sight of a sooty shearwater taking wing for its annual migration south.
And yet, as her lips pressed against Devon’s, every sensible thought within her scattered in a rush of pure sensation. Sooty shearwater? What even was a bird?!
Devon shifted his mouth across hers softly, like a wing-stirred breeze. Beth closed her eyes, sinking into the feeling. Her brain melted into a lush, gold-spangled reverie. Sheyielded to the gentle urging of his lips and parted hers, welcoming him, wishing for him. Devon responded at once, placing his hand against the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. So many lightning flashes sparked in Beth, she could have been plugged into a socket and used to illuminate a small city. Devon’s mouth was a velvet lapwing feather, stroking her into magic, luring her gorgeously into danger. She felt somehow both blissful and desperately yearning at the same time. A dozen perfectly decent scruples went up in flames as she shifted restlessly, hands reaching in search of something she didn’t know how to classify in the hard length of his body.
Devon stepped away from her suddenly, his breath shaking. He shoved back his hair. Beth stared unseeing into the middle distance.
“Um,” she said.
“Er,” Devon agreed, not looking at her either.
“Good night, then,” they chorused.
Without further word, they crawled onto opposite ends of the mattresses and tucked themselves beneath blankets, feet toward each other. A stunned silence descended upon the room, leavened only by the soft whisper of rain.
Oh dear, Beth thought to herself. That had been nothing like a kiss on the hand. Indeed, she’d place it in a whole different genus. Certainly it had been more romance than she’d experienced in her life thus far. She was obliged to declare herself scandalous indeed!
And not entirely upset about it.
Her brain, however, dropped a heavy stack of memories, sending reverberations through her nervous system and making her cringe. There was no need to inspect them; she recited their contents to herself daily: playground taunts because ofher book-hugging awkwardness; offended silences when she let her intelligence show; even a full-color chart of the many rejections from her classmates, who were always several years older than her. In short, evidence to prove incontrovertibly that she was not good company.
No doubt Devon had only danced with her because he was rather drunk and she just happened to be there. As for the kiss—it was meaningless, an accident of circumstance. She should not harbor any foolish hopes. After all, the man was forever staring at her, thoroughly dumbstruck; he called her angel, which suggested he could not remember her name; and he was currently hunched so tightly at the other end of the mattresses they could have safely run a flock of geese through the space between them. The conclusion was undeniable: he disliked her utterly.
This was why she avoided society unless heavily armored with niceties that were sure to please. She’d let her guard down tonight, and it had been lovely, so lovely, but at the same time extremely misguided.
Pulling the blanket over her head, she closed her eyes so firmly not a single tear could escape.
And when she woke in the morning to find Devon gone, she was not surprised.
Chapter Ten
Always be aware that, for every bird in the hand, there may be two in the bush just waiting to attack you.
Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm
Beth wasted notime in dressing. She’d been left behind by everyone now, and while it was no more than she expected, and the ache she felt was purely biological (no doubt from eating ox tongue pie the night before), it did shake her back into her good sense.
I need to act strategically, she told herself as she pulled on her fire-dried clothes.
Intelligence has never been more essential, she averred as she pinned up her hair.
Every minute must be used to my best advantage, she added while folding sheets and blankets into a neat pile. From now on, she had to place her own interests first if she wanted any chance of winning the competition. And that was what really mattered. Not tingly feelings. Not foolish romantic wishes.
**Tenure!**
“I shall be ruthless!” she declared aloud. “After taking these dishes down to the kitchen, and talking to the innkeeper’s daughter as promised, I’ll run for the train, and no one hadbetter get in my way! Especially not that scandalous reprobate, Devon Lockley! If I never see him again, it will be too soon!”
Gathering up her satchel, lifting her chin to the veriest height of dignity, she opened the bedroom door and stepped out.
Just as the bathroom door at the far end of the corridor opened and Devon emerged, fully dressed and wiping his freshly shaven jaw with a towel.
They both came to an abrupt halt, staring at each other. Devon’s face went still; Beth’s heart swooped like a bald eagle doing a courtship dance.
