She laughed. “Well, I would like toacquirethe taste to like it, then. And I will have to drink more of it to do that.”
She took another sip, pulled a face, then took another sip.
“Slow down,” he warned as he settled back into his chair. “You do not want to drink this too quickly.”
“Will it be like when I drink too much champagne?”
“Even worse,” he warned.
She sat down in the chair opposite him and set her whiskey on the desk. She looked so beautiful and poised that his heart seemed to expand within his chest. It wasn’t just her beauty, either. Her words to him in the carriage meant more to him than he could say.
He cleared his throat. He wanted to thank her for her kindness, but he wasn’t sure how.
“About earlier,” she began, speaking before he had a chance to. “I have thought about it, and I am sorry if I upset you by suggesting that Clementine might still be alive. I know that must have been difficult for you to hear.”
Winston shook his head. “No, please do not apologize, Vanessa. I understand why you thought she might be. I want to believe it, but I just cannot.”
“I understand,” she said, but she still looked a little guilty.
“You do not need to worry about upsetting me by speaking your mind,” he assured her. “I am not your mother and father—I want you to speak your mind and be yourself. In fact…” He swallowedand braced himself. “I wanted to thank you for your kindness earlier. The things you said to me were very caring. I have not had that kind of care since…” He frowned as he thought about it. “Since my mother died, I suppose.”
Vanessa took a deep breath. She wasn’t exactly smiling, but her expression was very soft. “You are welcome,” she murmured. “I want to care for you. If that is not clear yet, then I should make it explicitly so. I want to be your wife. Properly.”
Winston blinked.Surelyhe had not heard her right. But she was smiling now, tentative and nervous, but a sweet smile that told him he had not heard her wrong.
“I want us to live as man and wife,” she repeated, “and I do not want to be someone you keep around simply out of convenience or because you want to save me from a terrible life.”
“You do not know of what you speak,” Winston said at once. “You do not understand the implications.”
“I do understand,” Vanessa insisted. Her smile faltered. “Do you not want us to live as man and wife?”
“I—” Winston didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, of course, he did. She was everything he could have wanted in a wife. Brave, strong, and kind… But on the other hand, he ruined everything he touched. And he would fail her, just as he had failed his sister. He already knew this.
“You do not want me,” she said, her face falling. She looked down at her lap, her cheeks turning crimson, and he felt a jolt of anger at himself and guilt. He had embarrassed her. She had made herself vulnerable, and he had rejected her. “I thought, after our night in the inn, that you might feel the same way,” she said in a small voice.
“Vanessa…” Her name left his lips like a prayer, and she looked up. Her eyes were a bit bright, and her cheeks were still pink, but he saw hope on her face now.
He did not want to refuse her. But the feeling that was now filling him up from head to foot was terror. After everything he had lost, he could not bear to lose her. And he would, he inevitably would, the way he had lost everyone else.
He stood, suddenly restless, and went to the window. He tried to gaze out into the dark, but all he could see was her reflection in the glass. She stood and came to stand behind him.
“Tell me what you are feeling, Winston,” she murmured. “If you want to be with me, but you are simply afraid, just tell me. I am afraid, too. But together, we can give each other courage. Together, we can be stronger. Please…”
She reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. He watched the movement in the glass then felt her soft touch. He turned around to face her, catching her hand in his.
She was staring up at him, her eyes wide and her lips parted. She had never looked so lovely, and damn it, he was only aman. A weak man, a man who wanted her with every fiber of his being. Who wanted to protect her and care for her, and make her feel confident and special. Who wanted to tease her about silly bonnets and compliment her when she wore beautiful dresses. And he could hold himself back no longer. It felt like it was all he had been doing for weeks: holding himself back from following the instincts of his heart.
Winston’s fingers intertwined with hers, and he pulled her closer. She let out a small gasp of surprise as he melted her body against his. With his free hand, he reached up and touched her cheek, drawing his fingers down her along her jawbone and cupping her chin. He released her hand with his other one and brought it to the back of her head.
“Winston,” she murmured, her voice choked. “I want to be yours. And for you to be mine.”
The words went through him like summer rain. Warm and refreshing, clearing away all the dust and confusion. His fingers tightened on the back of her head, and he leaned down and kissed her.
Her lips were soft—softer than he could have imagined—and warm to the touch. He kissed her gently at first, coaxingly. It was her first kiss, and he didn’t want to scare her, but she responded instinctively, kissing him back, a soft moan escaping her lips. She brought her arms around him as well, pulling him closer, and her lips parted, inviting more.
He could not help himself. He began to kiss her more passionately, deeply, as if he was going to bruise her lips. And she did not seem to mind. In fact, her passion matched his own. It was so strong that he had to keep himself in check. Every inch of him burned for her, and he knew that he could not let himself get swept away in the moment.
At last, he pulled himself back, slightly out of breath. She looked a little winded as well, and when she stepped back, her cheeks were bright red, and her eyes were sparkling. She brought a hand to her lips and touched them tentatively.
