Beauty and the Blacksmith(7)

His wide mouth crooked in a smile. “I can bear far worse.”

“I . . .” Out with it. “I’ve been infatuated with you for quite some time. It’s terrible.”

“Terrible,” he echoed.

“Not that you’re terrible, of course. That ‘s not what I mean. I think you’re remarkable. I’m the terrible one. It all started that night of Finn’s accident. You were so confident and so strong. Just did what needed to be done, and no wavering.”

“That night? Believe me, I was wavering. On the inside, I was wavering.”

“I never would have known it.” She laughed a little. “Of all the places to develop an infatuation. Making eyes at a man over an amputation table. It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“Rather.”

“Hardly a story a woman wants to tell her grandchildren someday.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would be.”

She felt lighter already. “See, I told you this would all sound ridiculous. Oh, and there’s so much more. You already know that I purposely broke things just to have excuses to come by the smithy. When did you start to realize the truth?”

“Just recently.” His mouth tugged in a self-effacing grimace. “I’m not too sharp.”

She waved off his words. “That’s not true. You’re so perceptive. It’s evident in your finer work. I’ve spent hours poring over your jewelry pieces in the All Things shop. I’ve bought five of them.”

“Five?”

“Yes. Five.” She cringed. “I told Sally I was sending them to friends as gifts. A small taste of Spindle Cove, I said. But I never meant to give any of them away. I kept them all for myself. It was so stupid of me, because once I’d said they were gifts, I couldn’t be seen wearing them. And if I kept them in my jewelry box, Charlotte would find them—she’s always going through my things without permission. So I resorted to keeping them in the chest with my trousseau. They’re wrapped up in a tablecloth.”

“You have five of my pieces in your trousseau?”

“Well, only four.”

“Where’s the other one?” he asked.

She shook her head and pressed a hand to her cheek. “Oh, this is where it gets truly mortifying. There was one I couldn’t bear to put away. But I couldn’t gather the courage to wear it, either. So I took it off its chain and sewed little pockets into my frocks. Every morning, I slip it in as I’m dressing, and at night, I tuck it . . .” She buried her face in her hands.

“Where?” He sounded as if he was enjoying this now.

“Under my pillow,” she moaned into her hands, knowing he’d laugh. “As if I’m a girl of fourteen.”

He did laugh, but he did it good-naturedly.

“I admire all your work, but that one is my favorite. From the moment I saw it in Sally’s display case, I knew I had to have it. It just . . .” She’d come this far. No turning back now. “It seemed made for me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Was it a little silver pendant with a quatrefoil design?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Then you had it right,” he said. “So long as we’re being honest. It was made with you in mind.”

Her heart turned over in her chest. “Oh.”

“I do all my best work with you in mind. I never questioned why you came by the forge because I was just pleased you came. I didn’t want you to stop. And that night with Finn? That’s when it started for me, too.”

They stared at each other. His dark eyes held her rapt.

“I find you terribly handsome,” she blurted out. Because it was the only thing left unsaid.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I would tell you you’re the kind of lovely that’s unfair to roses and sunsets. But I don’t think this honest conversation is working the way you hoped.”

“No. It’s not. We were meant to be laughing, but none of this seems ridiculous. In fact, it feels more serious by the moment.”

To know that her attraction hadn’t been one-sided—that she’d been right about those long, searching looks he’d given her now and then . . . The vindication buoyed her spirits, and a delicious tingle ran from her scalp to her toes. But from there, she didn’t know what happened next.

Evidently, he had some ideas.

He took the reins from her hands and secured them on the dash rail. Then he gathered her in his arms and drew her close.

Her heart stuttered. This was really going to happen.

She’d run from his kiss the first time.

The second time, she’d begged him for it.

This time, she’d learned her lesson. She did nothing but remain absolutely, perfectly still.

And it worked.

His lips touched hers, imparting that unique blend of strength and tenderness she was coming to treasure. To crave.

But all too soon, he lifted his head. “Have you been kissed before?”

“I don’t know whether to say yes or no. Which answer will make you do it again?”

“Oh, I’m going to do it again.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “Just wanted to know how slow to take things.”

“A little faster would be fine.” She’d been waiting twenty-three years, after all.

His answer was a thrilling, sensual growl. “As you like.”

He renewed the kiss with a series of rough presses of his mouth to hers. Warm friction teased her lips apart, and his tongue swept between them.

The invasion was startling. She felt as though the ground had gone to liquid beneath her, and now she was adrift on unfamiliar seas. Far outside the boundaries of her experience.

As if he sensed her uncertainty, his arms flexed tight, drawing her flush with his chest. Her head naturally tilted back. She was vulnerable beneath him now, and he took control, deepening the kiss. His tongue stroked hers. The grain of his whiskers rasped at the edges of her lips. Intriguing and so essentially male. She wanted to touch him, slide her fingertips down the edge of his jaw. But she lost her courage, afraid to make a mistake and bring an end to everything.

She wanted this to last and last.

When he did pull away, he made no effort to hide that he was affected, too. It was all there, in his eyes. The deep wellspring of mutual desire and need they’d barely tapped.

“Mr. Dawes,” she sighed. “What do we do?”

“First, you start calling me Aaron.”

She tested it. “Aaron. What do we do?”

He put space between them. “I suppose this is where I should revise the speech I started last night. Remind you that you’re a gentlewoman and I’m a craftsman, and nothing can come of this. And tell you we should just go back to trading longing glances across the green and never speak of this again. But the thing is, I don’t feel like giving that speech this morning.”

“Oh, good,” she said, relieved. “Because I’m not at all in the mood to hear it.”

“We’re both sober. It’s a fine, clear day. You’re a grown woman, and a clever one. I believe you understand the situation. And I’m going to trust that you know your own mind.”

Her heart swelled. What a lovely, lovely gift. No one else had ever done the same.

He put one hand over hers. “We have something, the two of us. I don’t think we could name it quite yet, much less decide what we’d do to keep it. But if you like, we can spend more time together and puzzle it out.”

“I would like that. Very much.”

Goodness. It was settled, then. She had a proper suitor for the first time in her life—and he was a blacksmith. If her mother learned of this, she would be taken with fits.

She added, “But we should probably be discreet. At least for now.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and she was worried she’d offended him. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, of course. Just careful.

She fingered the vial of tincture hanging around her neck. Old habits were difficult to break.

He reached to untie the reins. “I’d best be getting you back to the rooming house. I did promise your mother you wouldn’t freckle.” He gave her a wry wink. “I hear there may be a shilling in it for me.”

“Wait,” she said.

Before he could set the team in motion, she rose up on the curricle seat, turned, and forced down the collapsible cover so that sunlight splashed them both.

“There.” She removed her cloak and settled beside him, putting her arm through his. “Now we can go.”





CHAPTER 4


“I’ve assigned all the parts,” Charlotte said, handing copies of the play to the assembled ladies in the Queen’s Ruby. “We’ll read through it once this morning.”

“Heaven knows, there’s nothing else to do,” lamented Miss Price, looking out the window at another rainy day.