“Are you going back to the arranged marriage, the one set up by your parents? Is there more safety in marrying a philanderer of your own race than in marrying me?”
She didn’t want Jordan. Hopefully, he didn’t wanthernow. She looked to the floorboards, to his onyx boots flecked with sandy white dust. “That’s not a fair question.”
“Life isn’t fair, Ester. It’s hard, filled with difficult choices.” He pulled her close. “Why does it feel as if we are stepping away from something that could be wonderful if both of us weren’t so stubborn?”
“Because we are, but it is for the best.” She loved the strength of his hold on her waist even with only one arm.
“Goodbye, Bex.” A final stretch to kiss his jaw led to him leaning down. He intercepted her and took her mouth.
The kiss was slow and patient, lingering, teaching.
When she thought it done, his embrace tightened. His one arm sculpted her to his chest, angling her until it felt natural to cling to him.
Her toes tingled in her worn slippers as the kiss deepened, and it felt like one of his speeches, wrapping her heart in warmth like she’d never known, not even in a steaming bath in a sparkling clean copper tub.
Her hands collapsed about his neck as he backed her to the wall. “Yes, Ester,” he said between breaths, before tasting and taking her lips again and again. “This will never work.”
His hand ripped away the heavy scarf that separated them. His fingertips traced the scallop lace of her collar. He spun the big pearl of her necklace and dragged a thumb along her throat, tweaking the ticklish parts, racing her pulse faster than his speeding phaeton.
“Two handed you’d be mighty dangerous, Bex.”
“Shh. I’m trying to remember why we won’t work. Maybe another kiss will tell me.”
With his one hand, he sandwiched her between the wall and his solid chest, tasting her lips, as if they were covered in honey. “How do we let this go? I think we reconsider. We must, Ester.”
Her name sounded like a prayer.
But there was no folding of her hands, no room between them to allow it. And she was too busy holding on to a dream, kissing him with eyes shut tight to savor the last, luscious moment.
“Tell, me Ester, darling Ester, that you’ll reconsider.”
He didn’t let her respond. His mouth was upon hers, speaking of things she didn’t understand, things that tasted like sugar, and chamomile, and heaven.
She was crazed against the wall, feeling each deep breath he took with the rising of his chest. Her fingers danced in his dark brown hair, trying to cling to a dream that was bigger than her, bigger than everything but her fears.
“Oh, Ester. I can be everything that you want.”
And Bex could be. He could be Romeo, Antony, a hundred others if she said yes.
“How can we both think to end this elopement with passion such as this? Ester, we can be so good together. Marry me.”
Did she love him enough to fight for this union? She didn’t know, not anymore. But no kiss, nothing but a full-throated direct address saying he loved her would salve her raw fingers.
But none would come. He didn’t love her. And she’d finally remembered she was worth everything her parents had sacrificed for.
“No. No, Bex.”
He stopped, stared, then stilled his wandering fingers.
Reason and a slowing pulse had to prevail. “Bex, passion passes the time until the next problem. It doesn’t fix anything. I have to say goodbye. That’s the reasonable thing to do.”
He nodded and eased her to the ground. “I don’t want to be reasonable. Nothing about us is reasonable. I suppose I’ll tell Jonesy that I lost my greatest role, the husband of a remarkable woman.”
“Careful who you tell, Bex. I don’t want to be in the gossip section ofThe Morning Post, Bex’s Blackamoor Lover.”
He took her hand. “I hate the papers. I’ll never let them hurt you.” He put his jacket half on, draping his injured shoulder. “Let me escort you downstairs and make sure you get on a coach back to London. Maybe in a week or two, we could start again. This time with your parents’ approval.”
She couldn’t agree, only stare down at the weathered threshold. It hurt too much now, walking away from him. Seeing him again, even on stage, would keep this ache always in her heart.
