Page 58 of A Modest Independence

“But you have a long memory. You said so yourself. You can’t have forgotten.”

Tom ran a hand over the back of his neck. “No,” he said at last. “I didn’t feel any better. The man’s death changed nothing. How could it? His crimes were in the past. There’s no way to undo them. No way to go back. All I can do is go forward.”

She continued to gaze up at him. As if she were waiting for something.

He didn’t plan to kiss her. When he’d attempted to do so on the Valetta, it had very nearly exposed her to gossip. He’d promised himself then that he’d keep a respectful distance. It wasn’t worth the risk, neither to his sanity nor her reputation. And yet…

As he stood on the Indus, the deck rolling beneath his booted feet and the crisp sea air ruffling his hair, his good intentions all melted away. He didn’t want to talk about the past. Not when there were stars and moonlight and the sound of lapping waves.

Not when there was her.

He bent his head and kissed her very softly on the mouth. She tasted of oranges. Sweet and warm and citrus tart. She swayed against him, her hand still clutching his sleeve. Their breath mingled, their half-parted lips clinging for a long moment.

And Tom felt it everywhere, surging in his blood and pounding in his heart. This was no ordinary kiss. No dutiful bus on the cheek or chaste peck under the mistletoe. This was a kiss. The kiss to end all kisses. Rich with meaning and trembling with tenderness. It robbed him of breath. Set his entire body alight.

Jenny must have felt it, too. Her hand found its way to his neck, her fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

He circled his arms around her waist to steady her, holding her so close that her heavy skirts swirled all about his legs. Every fiber of his being told him to keep kissing her. Lord knew he wanted to. Indeed, for several throbbing moments, it seemed the single most important occupation of his entire life.

But good sense ultimately prevailed. It had to.

He pulled back, just as he had on the Valetta. “We shouldn’t—”

“No.” Her hand fell from his hair. “You’re right.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t look about first. We might have been observed.” He cast a belated glance around the deck. “I don’t see anyone. Not now, anyway.”

Jenny’s face was flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. She looked a bit dazed. A bit breathless. As if she didn’t quite know where she was.

Tom had no doubt he appeared equally affected. His pulse was still struggling to regain its normal rhythm. “Jenny—”

“Please don’t apologize again, Tom. It isn’t very nice to have someone beg your pardon every time they embrace you.”

“I wasn’t going to beg your pardon. I was going to try and explain—”

“You needn’t. It’s all perfectly plain.”

“I don’t believe it is.” He took her hand and tucked it through his arm. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

Jenny permitted him to guide her back out along the deck. There were sailors and stewards in the distance, passengers laughing, and even a fiddle player perched somewhere below. The jaunty notes of a Scotch reel drifted up into the night, as out of place on an Egyptian-bound steamer as they were to the seriousness of what Tom had to say.

“On the Valetta, you told me about the sort of woman you didn’t wish to be, do you remember? Neither powerless wife, nor ridiculous spinster.”

“Of course I remember.”

“I have a similar quandary. A sort of a man I never wish to become.” He voice was quiet and—considering the erratic thumping of his heart—surprisingly steady. “In the orphanage I grew up surrounded by unwanted children, all products of liaisons between irresponsible men and desperate women. Men like Sir Oswald who used women, often against their will. And women like my mother, poor and ignorant, who gave in to the blandishments of men, hoping they might provide them with affection or some manner of security.”

He felt Jenny’s eyes upon him, but he didn’t return her gaze.

“You often lament the fact that men hold all the power. And you’re right. They do. Power in law and power in strength. I may not have been born a gentleman, but I resolved long ago that I would never use that power to take advantage of a woman. I promised myself I’d be better than that. That I’d never do to anyone what was done to my mother or the mothers of Thornhill, Archer, and Cross.”

Jenny’s hand tightened on his arm, pulling him to a halt.

He at last turned to look at her. Their eyes met in the flickering light of an oil lamp that hung overhead. “The closest I’ve come to breaking that promise has been with you. I’m here now, a part of your adventure, only because I gave you no choice. I forced my company on you, as careless of your feelings as any brute. When it came to the point, my principles couldn’t withstand my desire to be near you. They crumbled at the first test.” He gave a humorless laugh. “So much for principles.”

“Oh, Tom. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“It was. And each time I take you in my arms, I’m reminded—”