“You needn’t worry. It is not the first time he’s had to endure a storm and it probably won’t be the last, but it helps to remind him that I am close by and that he isn’t alone.”
Taking another sip of her tea she glanced toward him and almost choked. “What…?” she sputtered and coughed at the sight of him holding his breeches and smalls in one hand while keeping the blanket in place with the other.
“You said I had to avoid wetting the upholstery,” he said as he hung the pieces of clothing over the fireplace screen next to his shirt and hose.
“Well, yes,” she somehow managed to say without stammering or squeaking, “but I didn’t expect you to get completely undressed while I’m here with you.” The notion of him wearing nothing at all beneath the blanket was simply too scandalous to contemplate. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t see anything. The knowing itself was enough to put her in a muddled state from which she feared there could be no escape, because now that her mind had ventured down that particular path, she could not stop herself from trying to form a complete image of what she might see if he suddenly dropped the blanket completely.
“Do you ever miss your family, Miss Clemens?”
His unexpected question, coming seemingly out of nowhere, disrupted her indecent thoughts. Blinking, she lowered herself to one of the armchairs. “My family?”
“Do you ever think of trying to repair your relationship?”
“I used to,” she said. Shifting in her seat, she made herself more comfortable and took another sip of her tea. “After my anger toward my parents had passed, I considered returning to London for a visit. But then I thought of my younger sisters and the reason my parents banished me in the first place, which was to protect their reputations by adding distance, and I ended up staying away instead.”
He took a seat opposite her, and for a brief moment, Mary’s discomfort returned at the sight of the blanket parting in order to make space for his legs. But then he asked, “Did they never write to you in all these years?”
Sadness swept in and she quietly shook her head. “I don’t believe they know where I am, and even if they did, I doubt they would want to associate with me in any way.”
Mr. Crawford frowned. “I find that a very harsh punishment, based on what you have told me with regard to what happened.”
“In their minds I was entirely to blame. I brought shame to them and the rest of my family. Getting rid of me was the only thing that made sense to them, I think.”
“I hope I meet them one day,” he muttered. “And if I were them, I’d hope the opposite.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Thank you, but I have made my peace with that part of my life, and I have come to accept that I will never again be the woman I once was. I’ve experienced too much.”
He watched her closely, intensely, until her skin pricked with awareness. “I think you’re probably a better person for it.”
“You believe challenges improve a person’s character.” Not a question but an observation.
“I have no doubt that it did so for me,” he said. He drew the blanket tighter and reached for his tea. “As angry as I was with my father when I left home, I was also young and inexperienced, with the kind of cocksure confidence only youth can give you.” His lips slanted as he took a sip of his tea. “I raced off to France, certain I’d find someone there who’d love the drawings of houses I wanted to build and hire me straight away. Instead, I was told my ideas were pointless without the necessary experience to realize them – that presenting a mere drawing of an idea to a group of builders would likely lead to an unstable structure.”
“So what did you do?”
He grinned. “Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to England and face my father’s patronizing glare. So I took a job with a bricklayer first, then with a carpenter who specialized in making window frames, doors, and roofing materials. After a couple of years I began an apprenticeship with a builder who worked on the sort of houses I had designed. He taught me most of what I know today. Also gave me the chance I so desperately longed for to make my own vision a reality.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“He’s one of the best,” Mr. Crawford whispered. The tension in his blanket had eased a little, making it sag in the middle to show off more of his chest.
Mary tried not to look. She liked the comfortable repartee they’d been enjoying these past few minutes and didn’t want anything to disrupt it. So she decided to ask a question of her own. “Besides building houses, fixing roofs, and carving fishing rods for little boys, what other things do you enjoy doing?”
He stared back at her from across the small distance between them, and Mary could feel her blood heat in response to the fire now burning in his eyes. “Spending time with you,” he said as if any other answer would be absurd.
Warmth filled her heart, and a grin traced her lips. Sinking back against her chair, she nudged him playfully with the tip of her shoe. “Besides that,” she said, shoving aside all physical response to that comment. The only way she’d survive staying here with him dressed only in a blanket was if the tone remained light and friendly.
Thoughtfulness creased his brow. “History has always interested me. I'm fascinated by the people who came before us and by their incredible accomplishments. Just take the pyramids, for instance; the Viking expeditions to Greenland; or battles fought by the Romans. There's a wealth of knowledge to be found in the past, Miss Clemens. I always grab any chance I get to learn more.”
“You should take a closer look at our library then. We've a few books I'm sure you'd enjoy. LikeThe Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. I read it myself last year and found it incredibly informative.”
“Thank you. I'll be sure to take a look at it. And then perhaps you and I can discuss its contents.”
“Perhaps,” Mary said. She finished her tea and returned her cup to the tray before rising. “I wish you a good night, Mr. Crawford.”
He stood as well and adjusted the blanket, drawing it tight around his torso. “Same to you, Miss Clemens.” His voice was low and sultry. Desperate to resist it, Mary went to the door while hot little embers skittered along her limbs. “Thank you for the tea and blanket.”
“You're welcome,” she said without daring to look at him again, because she saw where this ended now, and while part of her yearned for his kiss and everything else he was willing to give her, another part screamed in protest, too loud to be ignored.
