He gave her an amused glance over his shoulder. “Maybe.”
She watched as he lit the attic’s lantern, feeling precarious in a way she could not quite define—almost as if something integral had been slowly peeling away from her over the past week, leaving her not wholly herself. Or worse,moreherself, the old defenses eroding.
I’m tired,she thought. There had been too much arguing. Too many days of relentless enmity. Even faked, it was agonizing. Amelia felt haunted by the ghost of Caleb, although he stood living and breathing in the same room as her—haunted by the loss of small casual words they usually shared, touches, and knowing looks that made up the better part of her existence. Longing lay on her skin like too much cold air. And not just for kissing (although that too). She felt bereft of him.
But that wasn’t the entire truth, and Amelia cursed the analytical efficiency of her brain in admitting it. Part of the trouble had been that the passion required for conducting their arguments made her feel…hot. Fluttery. And really so very fluttery hot, she was beginning to feel less English and more like an Italian woman lounging about half-undressed on some beach, with a sea as blue as Caleb’s eyes lapping over her bare skin.
While she struggled to recenter herself in what was in fact a damp attic on a gloomy autumn afternoon, Caleb brought a lantern and bottle of whiskey over to the table and set them down. Then turned to her without a word and took her in his arms, hugging her close.
At the feel of his body against hers, Amelia exhaled in deep relief. The embrace filled her with a warm, soft comfort, making her feel complete again, no longer split apart from theother half of her soul. Just as always, Caleb’s very presence soothed the sharp little fragments of hurt that had accumulated inside her with every disdainful look from other people, every casual cutting remark. Thank goodness she hadn’t sent that letter. With Caleb, she could endure anything.
They stood like that for an uncounted length of time, not speaking, just quietly waiting for the little familiarities to weave together again between them. Finally shifting apart, they shared a smile that was rich with two decades’ worth of mutual care.
“I needed that,” Caleb said. “My sparkle was quite lost. Indeed, I was beginning to fear that having to obey society’s prudish conventions was turning me into that most dreadful of things—”
“Brooding and dark-hearted,” Amelia said.
“Boring.”
They laughed. “Sit, Meely,” Caleb said as he left her, crossing again to the sideboard. “Put your feet up. Have a drink.”
“I’m not drinking that,” Amelia answered, wrinkling her nose at the bottle, as she sat primly upright in one of the chairs (first checking it for spiders, polished floor notwithstanding). “A lady never consumes drink directly from a bottle. Think of the—”
“—germs. I know. But don’t worry, love, I’m getting us some glasses.”
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me ‘love,’ ” Amelia said severely, even while her heart did a happy little pirouette.
“There’s no one to hear it.” Opening the sideboard’s door, he bent to search for drinkware, and Amelia conscientiously did not ogle his posterior (she just happened to be looking in its direction, that’s all).
“They could walk in at any moment,” she argued.
“I’ve locked the door.”
“Nevertheless.” Then she remembered what he’d told her downstairs. “What did you want to show me?”
“This!” Straightening with an excited grin, he held up a flat, rectangular box.
“Chocolates?” Amelia guessed, her eyes lighting.
Caleb deflated. “No. A chess set.”
She gasped, unable to restrain her sudden delight. “Even better!”
He eyed her dubiously. “Better than chocolates?”
“Absolutely!” Had she been able to sit up straighter with excitement, Amelia would have done so. Indeed, she was half tempted to clap her hands, Vanity-style. “But you wish to be punished?” she asked, surprised. “I’ve won every game of chess we’ve played.”
Caleb shrugged with mild agreement in the middle of that; then his grin returned, tinted with mischief. “Perhaps I let you win.”
“Ha!” was the only possible, sensible reply.
“So you’ll play with me?”
“Of course.” And when he evidenced some trepidation— “It will be restful.”
His grin sharpened. “We’ll see.”
Not bothering to argue, since he would soon enough be proven wrong, Amelia leaned forward to open the bottle and peer inside. “Thirsty after all?” Caleb teased.
