His arms wrapped about her middle and she eased into that spot on his chest against his breastbone like she’d never left.
Her hand lowered to his. Her palm rested on his wrist, fingering his cuff and sleeve buttons.
Her posture, her spine, her will slackened to him. Her head tipped against his arm.
Quiet, except for their breathing, he held her, and she let him.
“I have another appointment, my lord. I must be going.” Her voice was airy.
Everything he felt, the energy surging between them—all remained. “How did I let my dream fly away?”
“My lord—”
Turning her, he kissed her before he said anything else wrong.
Delicious and true, warm with that taste of mango and sea. God, he missed her, missed this.
For a moment, a single slip of time, she kissed him back. Then heaven ended abruptly when she pushed away.
“This is the part, Cecilia, where we forgive each other.”
“Do you know what it is that I want, Felton? Have you used these ten months to figure that out? For I know, I have always known what it is, and I have it now.”
Reconciliation was within his reach if he convinced her he’d changed. “An apology? An apology for everything. I’m sorry.”
She fingered her reddened lip. “What is it you’re sorry for?”
“For not respecting your art. For believing gossip.”
“Those are nice things, but not what I need, Felton.”
“Whatever you wish, I’ll give it.”
Cecilia shook her head. “Anything? No. Not anything. Everything has conditions. Good evening, sir.”
“No. Wait. May I answer tomorrow?”
“That’s a condition, my lord.” Her chest rose and fell quickly. Her heartbeat had to be as heavy as his. Passion was never the problem.
It only hid them.
“My lord, I don’t think it wise we continue this conversation. We’ve seen each other, and now if you do visit the theatre again and I see you, it won’t be so awkward.”
“If I’d never let go of you, if I’d chased you through the threshold immediately, even tossed you over my shoulder and carried you away, we’d still be together, Cecilia. We’d be happy this time.”
“I realized, Felton, that I’m happier now, apart from you. I have a life, a peaceful one without frets or concerns. No more wondering when and if you’ll be back or how things will be if you’re around.”
“Cecilia, you’ve taught me what that feels like. The separation. The anxiety. The worry. I have those concerns now too.”
“Then you will know this talk is senseless. I must go. Excuse me.”
“No.” Cecilia needed some proof of his love, something beyond words and affection. What? He didn’t know.
By Jove, how he wished he understood her. “Please, don’t go. Give me another chance to answer. You deserve that. We deserve it. Tomorrow? Next week?”
She moved closer to the door. “Don’t tell the girls you saw me. They won’t understand why I haven’t returned.”
“Cecilia, I don’t understand. I know you’re recently returned to London. Were you in Scotland trying to divorce? When did you come up with this fake-widow scheme?”
