All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(61)

I walked over to his side of the table and sat in his lap. And then I kissed him. I ran my tongue over his lips, and I could taste the cinnamon. ‘Do you ever wonder if the only reason you like me is because it irritates your father?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘No, you’re the only one who wonders that. I like you because you are brave and far too substantial to ever be called sweet.’

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but nonetheless I felt my insides becoming warm and I knew I was probably flushed. I wanted to take off my sweater. I wanted to take off other things. I wanted to take things off him.

I wanted him.

I wanted him, but I couldn’t.

I got off of his lap. Though the kitchen was sweltering, I retied and tightened the belt of my boiled-wool cardigan. Then I pushed up my sleeves and went over to the sink. I began to wash out the pan I’d used to heat the milk. I must have used three times the amount of water that the job required, but I needed to steady myself.

He came up behind me and set his hand on my shoulder. I jumped, I was still so wound up. ‘Annie, what’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘I don’t want to go to Hell,’ I said.

‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want you to go there either.’

‘But lately, when I’m with you . . . I find myself rationalizing things. And we haven’t even known each other that long, Win.’

Win nodded. He took a dish towel that was hanging over the oven-door handle. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ll dry that for you.’

I handed him the pan. Pan-less, I felt more vulnerable. I missed having a weapon.

‘Anya, I’m not going to lie. I’d really like to sleep with you. I think about it. The possibility of it, I mean. I think about the possibility of it fondly and often. But I’m not going to force you to do anything.’

‘It’s not you I’m worried about, Win! It’s me!’ It was embarrassing to talk about how much I feared losing control of myself when I was around him. I felt feral, savage, violent even, unlike myself. It disturbed me and shamed me. I hadn’t been to confession in months.

‘I’m not a virgin, Annie. Do you think that means I’m going to Hell?’ he asked.

‘No, it’s more complicated than that.’

‘Explain it, then.’

‘You’ll think it’s stupid. You’ll think I’m provincial, superstitious.’

‘No, I could never think that. I love you, Annie.’

I looked at him and though I wasn’t sure he really knew what love was – how could he? His life had been too easy – I decided that I trusted him. ‘When my father died, I made a deal with God that if He just kept all of us safe, I’d be good. I’d be better than good. I’d be pious. I’d honour Him. I’d be in control of myself and everything else.’

‘You are good, Annie. No one can say you haven’t been good,’ Win said. ‘You’re practically perfect.’

‘No, I’m so not perfect. I lose my temper all the time. I think bad thoughts about almost everyone I know. But I try my best. And I couldn’t say that any more, if . . .’

Win nodded. ‘I understand.’ He was still holding the dried pan, so he handed it to me. His smile was a bit lopsided. ‘I won’t let you sleep with me, no matter how much you’re begging me to,’ he joked.

‘Now you’re making fun of me.’

‘No, I’d never,’ Win said. ‘I take you and all things related to you very seriously.’

‘You’re not being serious now.’

‘I assure you, I’m being deathly serious. Go ahead and try to sleep with me right now. Do it. Even if you stripped down to nothing, I’d push you away like you were on fire.’ There was still mirth in his voice. ‘From now on, we’re in one of those old books. You can kiss me, but that’s it.’

‘I don’t think I like you right now,’ I said.

‘Good. Then the plan’s working.’

Win had to get home, so I walked him to the door.

I leaned over to kiss him, and he pulled back and offered me his hand. ‘Only on the hand from now on,’ he said.

‘You’re being extremely annoying.’

I kissed his hand and then he kissed mine. He pulled me close so that his lips were near my right ear. ‘You know how we could solve all this?’ he whispered. ‘We really could get married.’

‘Stop saying that! You sound absurd, and I don’t even think you mean it. Besides, I’d never marry you,’ I told him. ‘I’m sixteen, and you’re a slut, and you can’t stop saying preposterous things!’

‘True,’ he admitted. He kissed me on the lips and then I closed the door.

I arranged for Imogen to stay with Nana while the rest of us went to the wedding.

Win came to the house so we could all take the train together. Before we left, I asked him if he wouldn’t mind meeting my grandmother. Even though I was fairly over the moon about Win at that point in time, I was still self-conscious introducing people to Nana. Her behaviour was erratic to say the least and though my family was used to her appearance, she was more than a bit ghoulish (bedridden, mostly bald, bloodshot eyes, yellowish-green skin, rotten-smelling) to those who didn’t know her. I wasn’t embarrassed by her, but I felt protective of her. I didn’t want strange eyes on her. I warned Win what to expect before we went in.