Aidan’s face, flushed with the hour they’d spent in each other’s arms. His eyes, shining with fierce emotion as he cradled the watch in his palm.
A promise,
she’d said,
a pledge of my love until we can be together
. He’d embraced her then and rained tiny kisses over her eyes, her jaw, her neck.
I love you,
he’d whispered again and again.
I love you.
Kate placed a hand protectively over her throat, guarding the tightness that settled there.
“I know how much it meant to you. I wanted . . .” He shrugged. “Well,” he added quietly, “it’s returned to its rightful owner now.”
Closing the watch with a loud click, Kate tried to end the memories of Aidan with the same efficiency. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of him in years.” The thickness in her throat muted the words.
His hand lifted, and she watched warily as he reached slowly toward her face. His thumb brushed her cheek, catching a tear she hadn’t known had fallen. Eyes closing of their own accord, she helplessly savored the tenderness of that small touch. How many years had passed since anyone had touched her without demanding or punishing or directing? The thought was jarring. She’d grown up with the gentle hand of her mother, the affectionate arms of her nurse and her governess, the steady touch of her maid. Then there’d been Aidan. . . .
Odd that a person could go almost a decade without a kind touch and not even realize it.
The feather touch of his thumb became the warm press of his whole hand. She allowed herself just this moment of pleasure and turned her cheek into his palm, pressed her skin against his heat. Just a second of contact, then she stood swiftly and walked away from him to look out at the night through her tiny window. The floorboards creaked as he rose. She waited anxiously for the sound of his footsteps coming close, but he didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe.
Silence stretched taut between them, plucking at her nerves. When he finally spoke, he left the past behind. “You seem to have the beginnings of a successful business here.”
“Yes,” she answered breathlessly, some of the tension leaching from her body. “It’s very exciting.” Her eyes focused on his reflection in the window and caught his quick grin.
“Exciting?”
“Yes. Well, I think so. You probably think running a shop would make for a tedious life.”
He moved a few steps toward her. In defense, she turned to face him and his smile. “On the contrary,” he said. “I find business invigorating. I think one must find it exciting in order to be successful.”
“What is your business then?”
“I started importing years ago. Now I invest, generally. Ships, textiles, industry. Anything I think will make money.”
“Oh, that does sound fascinating.”
“It is. When you’re good, it is. If you’re not, then it’s just terrifying.”
“That good, are you?”
He laughed, the sound a delicious vibration in her belly. “I can afford to be confident.”
Smiling, Kate tried to ignore how comfortable it was to simply be with him. There had been an easiness between them from the very first moment they’d met.
“And what about you?” he asked. “How did you come to this?”
The easiness vanished like a dream. Clearing her throat, she straightened and edged past him to retrieve her cup. “I already told you. I missed England, and my husband had an idea for new income.”
“Yes, but how did you come to run the shop? How did you even know you would like it?”
“I . . . I . . .” She didn’t know what to say. In truth, she hadn’t known any more than that she’d needed to leave Ceylon and she’d needed an income as well.
Aidan cleared his throat. “I suppose you help with your husband’s estate.”
“Yes! Yes, exactly. He has a son from his first wife, so he helps with the planting side of it, but there is so much more than that.”
“And you have no children of your own?”
She’d been expecting the question, but it still squeezed her chest. He sounded so casual as he asked. So polite. “No. No children. And how is your family? Is your mother still well?”
A moment passed, but when he answered his voice was light. “She is as she ever was.”
Despite her nervousness, Kate couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “She has not mellowed with age?”
“Oh, God no. In fact, I’d say her imagination improves weekly.”
“And your brother? Has he made you an uncle, at least?”
“Not yet, much to my mother’s loud lament. But my sister just married. You remember Marissa?”
“Of course!” she said, though she hadn’t thought of her in years. “I was amazed by her. So beautiful and cool even as a child. If I had to guess, I’d say she married a dashing prince from a foreign land.”
“On the contrary, an untitled Englishman.”
“I don’t believe it.”
He winked. “Believe me, neither did we. But she loves him. Even I can see that now.”
Even I? What did he mean? “And you, Aidan? You’ve never married?”
“No.”
Alarmed by the thrill that sparked inside her, she made herself smile lightly. “Surely you’re sought after?”
“Yes.”
She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more. Her throat strained. She wanted desperately to ask why he’d never married but wouldn’t let the words pass her lips. It was none of her business.
“As for your family—” he started.
Kate drew in a sharp breath and stepped back. “What do you mean? You promised not to tell them—”
“No. I said nothing. But I believe your mother is well. And I see your brother on rare occasion in London. You do not wish to see them at all?”
She didn’t close her eyes, though her lids fluttered down for a moment. Her injuries were old and long since healed. “No,” she whispered. “My brother and I were never close.” Even if she had a desire to see her family, she couldn’t. Her masquerade would be finished, of course. But more than that, if Gerard had spread his lies about her, they’d surely have heard.
Aidan drew near and put a hand to her elbow. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Thank you for bringing my grandfather’s watch.”
“I wanted to return it to you. And I wanted to see you again,” he said. His soft words seemed to echo in the room, but the tender stroke of his voice must be her imagination.
“I’m truly grateful.” She turned from him as she carefully voiced the dismissal. It was not subtle. He could not mistake it. She cringed when he made no reply. “It was kind of you to bring it to me.”
“Kind.”
Kate nodded and listened to the censorious silence that fell once more. From the corner of her eye, she could see his intent gaze.
An endless moment passed before he sighed and shifted. “I’d hoped we could be friends.”
Staring desperately at the wall, she pressed her lips tight together.
“You were my best friend once, Kate.”
Her lungs strained to draw breath through her rigid throat, her muscles shivered with suppressed emotion. She’d told herself she wanted only solitude, but his words exposed the lie. If he’d asked to be her lover, she could’ve sent him away with conviction. To be friends, though, as they’d once been . . . The idea set off a fierce yearning inside her.
Tears overflowed her burning eyes. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth just as his arms came around her. She smelled snow and salt water in the wool of his coat. Aidan York was
holding
her.
“There’s too much between us,” she whispered through her tears.
“Nonsense. There’s no reason in the world we can’t be friends.”
“There’s too much between us,” she repeated frantically.
“The past is the past, Kate. We’re both different people now.” His hand smoothed over her hair, soothing her frenzied nerves. “I’m not willing to lose you again. I’ve not had a true friend since the day you left England.”
He couldn’t know what that meant to her, to hear that no person had ever replaced her in his life, just as no one had ever taken his place in hers. He needed her, and, oh God, it seemed she needed him too. But could she believe him? She’d once believed every word he’d said, but her father and time and distance had ruined that for her.
But those old doubts could not expand when his arms were around her.
“I’m married,” she breathed in one last attempt to push him away.
“I know.”
This was a terrible idea. Sending him away had been the right thing to do, but she didn’t think she had the strength to do it again. Kate breathed in the scent of him, of his clothes and his soap and his skin, and felt the blank terror of jumping from an unknown height. She deserved this small thing, didn’t she?
Taking a deep breath, she braved the leap. “I was planning a long walk along the Humber tomorrow. The shop is closed on Sundays.”
He was still, stiff, then his muscles shifted and moved slowly into relaxation. “I was thinking of a walk myself. Would you like company?”
Sniffing self-consciously, Kate nodded into his shirt, unable to speak past the emotion that pressed against her throat.
Friendship,
she told herself as her heart danced in her chest.
And nothing more
.
It was as dreary a day as he’d ever seen. Gray light, gray sand, gray rocks, gray water. And Aidan was sure his frozen toes were an alarming shade of that same color. Watching Kate as she stepped lightly beside him, he wondered if she were walking on the same icy beach as he. A happy pink glow suffused her cheeks, and her eyes seemed to throw off gold sparks.
“It’s cold,” he groaned.
“So you’ve said.” She gazed serenely out over the rippling water, a small smile playing about her mouth.
“You seemed to need reminding.”
Her smile widened when she turned toward him. “You should go home and warm up. We can walk together another time . . . when it’s not too cold for you.”
“It’s not too cold for me,” he protested in as reasonable a tone as he could muster. “I’m only concerned about you.”
“I’m perfectly well. You, on the other hand, look positively frozen.”
She seemed so cheerful about it he couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you enjoying this so much?”
“You’d enjoy it too if you’d baked in the tropical sun for years!”
“I suppose I would,” Aidan conceded, happy with her enthusiasm, if not the weather. “And if you can bear the cold, I’m afraid my pride wouldn’t survive the embarrassment of retreat.”
“Such a gracious escort.” Her grin was saucy, relaxed.
Aidan grunted obligingly, but he was secretly thrilled. She was a different woman today. Her smile came easily and she took his arm with a natural grace instead of wariness.
His offer of a platonic friendship had relieved her, it seemed, removing the tension that hovered about her like a storm. It was no idle offer on his part. She
had
been his last true friend, and he’d missed the ease and comfort of being near her.
“How long will you be staying this time?” Her voice broke through his thoughts.
“Well, I’d only thought to check on the progress of repairs on the ship, but the workmanship is impressive. I’m considering leaving her here for the complete overhaul. It’d be to my advantage to have a good shipyard outside the confines of London.” The advantages began to form and clarify in his mind even as he spoke. Cheaper port fees, a faster turnaround. The work itself definitely came cheaper, and the craftsmen seemed reliable.
And Kate was here.
“It’s colder here, though,” he added with a sidelong look at her. “The river tends to ice.”
“Oh, so subtle! Fine. I give in. Let’s get you back inside to warm your delicate toes.”
Aidan smiled at her with unabashed pleasure, whirling her around to walk back toward town. “My delicate fingers are quite frozen too.”
Kate surprised him by giggling. She really was so different. Perhaps he was too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked for the simple enjoyment of it. Actually, he could. Of course he could. It had been with Kate, along a rocky river shore quite like this one, her hand held tightly in his. And then they’d spied that old boathouse. . . .
A strange shimmer of warmth swept from his chest down to his fingers at the memory. It was a feeling much like the wonderful, painful anticipation she’d inspired in him years ago. A need to touch her, sweetened by the knowledge that she’d welcome his touch. The sensation rocked him. This was what he’d never felt with other women. Only Kate had ever made his fingertips tingle, made his breath catch in his lungs with anxious want.
And she still did, apparently, though he tried to rein in the feeling. It could be only nostalgia or some desire to recapture what they’d lost. But there was no recapturing that.
Still, it was hard not to give in. Hard to stop himself from touching her face when she turned to smile at him, hard to keep from sliding an arm around her waist as they walked. It was even harder to think that in a few minutes or an hour or two hours, he would have to say a casual good-bye and retreat to the inn until the next day. A need to be near her pulsed in him, and he wanted to indulge it, to quench it.
“Have you tired of my company or may I impose on you for dinner this evening?”
“Oh, certainly,” she answered quickly, her smile turning to a frown. “Although . . . dinner . . .”
“Never fear.” Aidan tipped his head toward town. “I already asked the innkeeper to prepare a basket. I did not wish to strain your hospitality.”
“Oh,” she replied archly, “is that what you were thinking?”
“What else?”
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but he kept his expression angelic.
“What if I were to tell you that I put dinner in the oven before we left?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying,” he said.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“Oh, fine. You win. I’ll pretend you don’t think me an absolute disaster in the kitchen.”
“Lovely.”
Kate laughed, and God, but it was a gorgeous sound. Aidan tried not to imagine the idiotic grin on his face as he stepped back into town.
She wasn’t sending him away. He’d see her again in an hour. Less than that. And he didn’t plan to bring only dinner. He’d purchased a chess set that morning from a shop near the dock. It was winter, after all, and far too cold to spend every day touring the town. But chess . . . a single game could take hours. Hours spent inside, together, in front of a warm fire.
The gray sky suddenly seemed bright as summertime.
It was dark in the alley when she opened the door to his knock. A tingle of danger spread down her belly as she stepped aside to let Aidan in. If anyone saw him entering . . .
But Aidan smiled the smile of a pleased child and held up the basket.
“Is that roast chicken I smell?”
“Perhaps.” He shifted the basket away from her reaching hands and inclined his head toward the stairway. Kate led the way eagerly, her mouth watering at the smell. She had no doubt it’d be the best meal she’d had in weeks.
Aidan was immediately busy with laying out the meal. He’d brought everything, as far as she could tell—food, plates, silverware, napkins, even wine and glasses. The bounty quickly overwhelmed her small table. As she craned her neck to see past him to the feast, his broad shoulders shifted toward her and he handed her a glass of wine.
“Is this a celebration?”
His eyebrows rose in surprise before he smiled warmly at her. “No, but I suppose it should be.” He touched his glass lightly to hers. “To you. To our renewed friendship. To our continued success in business endeavors. To the simple fact that we are both alive.”
“Yes,” she replied softly, unable to tear her eyes from his gaze. He still smiled, but his eyes turned serious—intense and unwavering. He raised a glass to his mouth and she did the same, mirroring his movements. The sweet, sensual taste of the wine filled her mouth like summer fruit.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Yes,” he murmured, green eyes suddenly hot as they moved over her face.
Blinking hard, she stepped past him to take a seat at the table, intent on ignoring the knot that formed low in her belly. The moment passed unacknowledged, and they settled into the meal, finishing the bottle of wine long before starting dessert. Tired and full, they both subsided into silent contemplation of their wineglasses.
“What are you thinking?”
Kate blinked and shook her head to clear the cobwebs—the wine, actually—from her head. “Nothing. Why?”
“I just want to know. You must be someone different now. We were so young. You must have scars and memories.”
A sudden constriction tightened her chest. Was it possible he really did see her? Her hand drifted to her cheek, to that small scar high on the bone. The playful light in his eyes faded to puzzlement as they followed the movement. His own hand rose to hover over hers for a moment before he brushed her fingers aside and set the lightest of touches against her skin.
“What is this?”
She shivered at his soft touch, at the low rumble of his voice. “Nothing.”
His fingers feathered under her chin to tilt her face toward the lamplight as his thumb smoothed along her cheek. “A scar.”
She tried to offer a coy smile. “You’re not supposed to mention such things.”
She felt the pressure of his fingers tightening on her chin even before his face stiffened with anger. “What is this?”
“Nothing. A riding accident. There was a mud slide. I was lucky,” she added cheerily. “I escaped with only cuts and bruises.” Meeting his gaze unflinchingly, she watched his worried anger turn to sympathy.
“I hear India can be dangerous.”
“Yes.”
His fingers fell away from her skin. “Well, I’m glad you’re back in safe, staid England then.”
“Not so glad as I am.” She reached distractedly for her glass only to find it empty.
“Shall I open another bottle?”
“No. No, I’ve had enough.”
Nodding, Aidan stood and stretched, drawing her eyes up the long line of his body. She suppressed a sigh and looked away from the beautiful sight of him.
“I’ve brought you something.”
He opened the basket he’d brought from the inn and withdrew a flat, square package.
“What is it? Some other remnant I left behind in England?”
“Open it.”
Surprised and wary, Kate untied the string and folded back the paper to find a plain wooden box beneath the wrappings. When she flipped the small latch of the walnut box and lifted the lid, she found only more wood. Truly puzzled now, she worked the piece of wood up and out of the box, finally spying the chess pieces cradled in a nest of cloth.
“A chess set! Thank you.”
“The piece you’re holding folds out into a board.”
She opened the board, marveling at the hidden hinges that held the four squares of wood together. It was a simple set otherwise, the pieces basic and painted.
“You told me once that you played with your grandfather.”
“I did. And thank you, but you shouldn’t have bought me anything.” Her hands belied the words, stroking the smooth edge of the white queen.
“It was purely selfish. I’m hoping you’ll consent to play with me. We never had a chance before.”
She looked around the small, worn room. He shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have invited him in. Widow or married woman, it wasn’t right. But her old nature was returning. The rebellious soul that had gotten her into trouble so many times.
Aidan only wanted to be friends, after all. There was no chance of more, not with the lie of her marriage sitting between them. Not with the bloody mess she’d left behind.
“Of course,” she finally said.
He smiled as she began to clear the table. “I don’t play well,” he warned as he unpacked the pieces.
“I do.” Warming at the smooth stroke of his laugh, she surprised herself by smiling at the pleasant feeling.
Just friends,
she reminded herself sternly, if with little enthusiasm.
After he’d set the last piece on the board, Aidan opened another bottle and refilled the wineglasses. At her raised eyebrow, he shrugged and took his seat. “It’s thirsty work getting trounced.”
The game was over in thirty minutes.
“I warned you.” Aidan sighed at the sight of his king, solidly cornered.
“How can you be so dismal at strategy and yet so good at your work?”
He shrugged unapologetically. “I suppose if there were some motivation for me to learn . . .”
“Like money?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I’m afraid I’ve nothing to offer to sweeten the pot.” Kate regretted the flip words as soon as they left her mouth, but her wine-drugged blood sang sweetly at the sudden heat in his eyes.
“No? Nothing?”
Her lips dried. She licked them, inadvertently drawing his eyes to her mouth as she shook her head.
“And if I said you did?”
Unable to control the compulsion, she wet her lips again, fascinated by the way his jaw hardened at the sight. The wine was definitely affecting her judgment. She wished there were no table between them, wished he could simply lean toward her, lower his head and touch his mouth to hers. A small sigh escaped her at the thought, a heavy tension invaded her belly. She focused on his lips then, on the handsome shape of them and the firm line of his mouth. She wanted to remember how his lips felt on her skin, wanted to create new memories to replace the ones lost.
There were so many little things about him her mind had left behind. The thin white line of a scar trailed into his hairline at the right temple, the result of a childhood fall. A cowlick at the crown of his head that interfered with the careful, elegant cut of his dark hair and made her want to twirl a finger through the little swirl it created.