Page 58 of Bane Bloom

The last part I mostly said in jest, but he replied, “It is a trick, but not in the way you mean. You’ve been alone here, without any of the people you lean on. You’ve been confused and afraid, and you’ve looked to me for reassurance.”

I considered this, eyes resting anywhere but on his abdomen. His chest. His lips. He wasn’t wrong, but could this really explain the waves of heat that washed over me when he looked at me? When he held me in his arms? Could it explain the acrobatics my heart had performed when he leaned over me in the bottom of the boat, speaking low into my ear?

“It is a reasonable explanation,” I said at last. “Yet I’m not sure it’s as simple as that. You’ve made me face truths about myself that I’d buried deep. Shadows I never knew were in me. And you’ve mostly been right about the things you’ve said. But I’m no more a child than you are, Thomas.”

We studied each other, breathing uncomfortably in the stillness. Then at last he reached for my hand, lifting it and placing it in the center of his chest. His heart was hammering as hard as my own.

“Nay, lass.”

I scooted closer to him. Muscles in his neck tensed, and his breaths shortened. I raised my other hand, slipping it along his jaw and around to the back of his head, pulling his face closer to mine. Our noses touched and lightly brushed, and I felt a shudder move through him.

Then his hands came to the sides of my face, and he pulled my lips against his. Soft, round, full, warm. I had no idea how to go about this, yet it seemed not to matter. Easy as slipping into a warm bath.

His lips pressed softly once, withdrew a little, and came again, pressing longer and harder this time. I kissed him back, heart racing and heat fountaining at my core. Again I pulled at him, drawing him deeper into the kiss. This caused him to shudder again and groan.

He reached his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. His lips parted and his tongue met mine, tasting and probing, and I pressed close against him. More. I want more.

As if he’d heard the thought, one of his hands slid up my waist and over the fabric of my sleeve, tugging the loose collar of my nightdress down to bare my shoulder. He rolled his palm over my skin, breathing labored, and I felt myself begin to shake.

“Catherine,” he murmured into my neck. “You’re trembling.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“She Came to Me”

Thomas

Her answer came short, as if not only desire but fear stirred in her.

Though the silk and scent of her skin had me throbbing with need, I drew back. Her features were soft in the firelight, the thin fabric of her nightdress clinging in places that had been completely hidden beneath her funereal gowns. And her lips—they were cherry dark and full from the attention I’d paid them.

How my heart hammered.

“What’s wrong, Thomas?” Her cheeks were hot, her eyes bright.

I reached out and pushed a loose wisp of hair back from her face. “All is well, lass, but we should stop this. Before we cannot.”

Her dark brows lifted. “But why?”

I felt a smile pulling at my lips. Why, indeed? “Because you have no one here to advise you. No one to protect you.”

The corners of her cherry lips turned down. “After three decades, I would hope I’m capable of advising myself. And I have you to protect me.”

Now I laughed. “I fear you give me more credit than I deserve. Protecting you is the furthest thing from my mind right now.” Her gaze lowered. Sobering, I added, “You may think you know me, but I assure you, you do not.”

“I can easily believe it,” she said without raising her eyes. “I didn’t know you wanted . . . this. I would never have guessed from . . .”

“My roughness with you?”

She swallowed. “Indeed.”

“You have asked me more than once if I don’t want more than living here alone with my family ghosts. I never chose this isolation. I was born into it.” At last she looked up, and I continued, “Pine Cottage is the only place I belong, and I wish for no one else to share this legacy.” I didn’t miss her slight flinch at this. I resisted an urge to add softer words: I won’t take from you when I have nothing to give.

Her eyes searched mine. “You’re still keeping secrets.”

“I suppose I am.”

She continued to watch me, perhaps thinking that I would explain. Instead, I said, “Try to sleep, Catherine. I’ll be here. No harm will come to you.”