When she gave a swift nod he put in the order. The maid departed and they were once again left with little to say. James wracked his brain. It hadn’t been this difficult before. He just had to think of a subject, that was all.
“My parents had a clock almost identical to the one right over there,” she suddenly murmured with a sort of breathy sentimentality that would suggest her thoughts had strayed to the past. “It stood in our parlor.” A soft chuckle accompanied a winsome smile. “My father inherited it from his parents.”
James turned in the direction she was looking and spotted the piece she referred to. It was a beautifully crafted longcase clock. At a glance, it appeared to be made from oak and walnut.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Mmm. I’m not sure how many functions that one has. I’d need to inspect it more closely. But ours could do a lot more than tell the time.” Her sparkling eyes met his and James’s heart leapt. “Besides indicating the hours and minutes, it showed the date, the cycle of the moon, as well as the times of high tide at London Bridge. It was ingenious. I used to study it for hours, watching the hands and dials turn and click into place.”
James grinned, prompting her to sharpen her gaze. “What?”
The maid returned just then with their wine. “The food will be along shortly,” she said.
As soon as she’d walked away, James filled Mrs. Lawson’s glass and then his own. “I just had this image of you as a little girl in short skirts and a pinafore, with long plaits on either side of your head, marveling over a clock.”
She pursed her lips. “Just so you know, I rarely wore plaits. My hair was almost always down until I reached the age of sixteen and Mama insisted I start to pin it.”
James’s stomach clenched in response to a new and far more provocative image – of her hair spilling down her naked back, or better yet, strewn across his pillow. He shifted in his seat and desperately reached for his wine. “To wonderful memories.”
With a grateful sort of smile that caused heat to swirl in the pit of his stomach, she raised her glass as well and drank. Their food arrived and they both dug in. Somehow, with the mention of the clock, the awkwardness from before had been replaced by conviviality. James no longer felt the need to fill the silence between them with inane conversation. He was comfortable simply sharing a meal at the same table as her.
A few sips of wine and bites of food later, he did decide to say something though. Whether unwise or not, he feared he’d never forgive himself if he weren’t completely honest with her. “You should know that I don’t regret kissing you.” He waited for her to meet his gaze before admitting, “It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.”
Her lips parted. Dismay filled her eyes. “You ended it though.”
“Only because I worried where it might lead.”
She shook her head as if with incomprehension. “Considering what you know of me, I confess I’m surprised. Most men in your position would have taken advantage, and while I must admit a part of me wishes you’d take more liberties, I appreciate your restraint and consideration.”
It was James’s turn to gape at her. She wished he’d take more liberties? By God he was a saint for not dragging her upstairs this second and showing her just how many liberties he’d like to take. He closed his eyes briefly and shook off his lustful notions before he dared look at her again.
Expelling a breath, he told her plainly, “You muddle my head, Mrs. Lawson.”
“How so?” Somehow, she managed to sound genuinely puzzled.
James sat back in his chair, utterly stumped. “Because you wear the veneer of a harlot and yet underneath it all, you seem to be as chaste as a maiden.”
“I’ve borne a child, Mr. Dale.” A hint of annoyance clung to each word.
“You’ve also been married to a man who is both young and handsome. I am aware of all this and yet there’s something about you that doesn’t add up.”
“I thought you said you liked the kiss – that it was the best you’ve ever had.”
“Because it suggested you’d never been kissed before. That I was your first. Except that cannot possibly be. I know it’s ridiculous and yet I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not anywhere near as corrupt as you would have me believe. I just can’t imagine why you’d want to misrepresent yourself like that and—”
“I’m not misrepresenting anything,” she told him firmly. Leaning forward, she glared at him from across the table. Her eyes shone like shards of broken ice caught in the sun. Lowering her voice, she said, “If you like, I can show you. Shall we go back upstairs?”
Every last vestige of honorability crumbled in the face of what she offered. Here was his chance to have her. She was propositioning him and in spite of his conflicting thoughts about her, he did not have the will to resist. Not when he knew he’d always regret turning her down – would always wonder what he’d missed out on.
So he steadied himself, expelled a deep breath, and prepared to dive into a situation that would in all likelihood lead to disaster, when a familiar voice drew his attention. It was one of those moments in which he prayed he was mistaken, where reality seemed to slow to a near halt as blood rushed through his veins. He turned, hoping to find another man than the one he feared he would see.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side.
Standing by the bedchamber window in the room of the inn where she and Michael had stopped for the night, Cynthia gazed out at the darkness beyond while trying to find her courage. They’d been on the road together for two days now and still she’d not managed to share the matter that pressed upon her with such force it seemed to squeeze the air from her lungs.
Talking wasn’t easy while tearing along the North Road on horseback. They’d had stops but all had been made with a sense of haste and urgency that made it hard for her to confide the monumentally important detail she’d thus far omitted. Their meals and evenings spent together before retiring had offered the most appropriate opportunities. But when she tried to think of how to ease into the subject she had to address, her stomach flipped over while nervous jitters made her skin shiver, and then before she knew it her chance had passed.
Time for hesitation was swiftly running out, however. No matter the risk, she had to reveal the one thing she knew might ruin her chance of marrying Michael forever. And because she loved him, she had to give him the chance he deserved to make an informed decision – she had to protect him from the unhappiness that had destroyed Henry’s love.
