He halted. “What do you want from me? To stay here in 1812?”
She glanced around. The street was quiet. A few pedestrians were out, but no one was close enough to eavesdrop.
But still...
“This is not a conversation to have in public.” She resumed walking, and he followed.
“Well, it’s a conversation we need to have.”
They didn’t speak again until they were in her bedchamber. The house had been empty when they arrived, which wasn’t a surprise. Mr.Alby and Henry were likely at the club and Mother out on a social call.
“Very good,” Lizzy said, removing her gloves and laying them on the dressing table. “We learned quite a lot.”
“I wouldn’t believe a word that came out of Zeke’s mouth except for the fact that I have no other explanation for how I got here.”
“Yet all he uttered was fraught with peril. What happens if you end up in another, more dangerous time? If you emerge from a pond at the wrong time and the wrong person sees you, that could be your doom.”
“He talked about lodestones. My sister is one. I could focus on her. She drives me crazy, no doubt. But she’s my closest family.”
“As a theory.” Lizzy’s voice cracked. “As nothing more than speculation.”
“Are you crying?”
“Should I be ashamed of tears?”
“No. God, no. It’s just... I’m not sure I’ve ever made a lover cry about me before.”
“Congratulations to you, then.” She swiped at her eyes, willing the tears to dry up. But they kept coming.
“That’s not a track record I want. Babe. Come here.”
She stiffened as he embraced her. “I’m not a babe. I’m a very confused woman.” He didn’t release her. If anything, he held her tighter.
“You were meant to be a stepping stone to all my ambitions; instead, you became my rock.” She buried her face into his chest, inhaling freshly laundered cotton. “I wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for you.”
He stopped patting her back. “What did you say?”
She pushed him off in a quick gesture that took him by surprise. “I said I am developing an attachment to you, which is not only a bad idea, but a worse one to say out loud. I should be telling myself it’s a passing fancy and that it means very little. But I don’t like to lie to myself. And that’s not what this is. It’s not some silly fancy because you are a handsome man who happens to be around me. Or because there is a novel strangeness about our circumstances. Or because we married. It’s as if somehow youbecame the air that I breathe. And the thought of you leaving, it’s suffocating.”
“You care about me?” he repeated, searching her face. “More than this just being fun?”
“I won’t repeat it.” Her face was flaming. “Because when you speak a thing, you give it more power.” She pinched her eyes closed and counted to three. “I’ve told you my truth, and that’s enough. You don’t have to be polite and make some excuse to spare my feelings. But you can do me the courtesy of forgetting I ever mentioned it.”
“That’s not going to happen.” He moved with speed and precision, his gaze fixed on her.
“What are you doing?” Before the question was finished, she was up against the wall.
“Who said I’d make an excuse?”
“Tuck.” It was impossible to take a breath when he was so close, and when he looked so keenly serious.
“Have you never thought even one time that I might care about you too? That I might have been developing genuine feelings ever since you hit me in the head with that stupid half-eaten apple?”
“But that’s impossible.”
“The hell it is.” His warm mouth slanted over hers, and as their tongues tangled, she knew she had gotten it all very, very wrong. Tuck wasn’t a stepping stone, nor was he her rock. He was a landslide.
Chapter Twenty-Five
