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She opened her mouth to press him, but before she could he asked, “And how is your head wound?”

Her fingers immediately went to the cut on at her hairline that was just beginning to heal.

“You know, it’s a funny thing, fainting. It can be such an easy thing to pretend at. All one has to do is play dead. Good evening, Mrs. Parkem,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.

A touch of fear flared up in her stomach as she watched the man climb back into the carriage. He paused at the door and shot her a smile over his shoulder, but there was nothing sweet about it. It was laced with something harder, something altogether more cunning, and as the carriage rolled off, it took everything Lavinia had not to whirl around on her boot heel and race home as fast as her feet could carry her.

Chapter Sixteen

A FEW HOURS later, when the shop was quiet and most of Edinburgh slept, Lavinia was up to her elbows in dishwater when a knock came on the back door.

“Of course someone comes now,” she muttered, blowing a stream of air to push a curl that, with the late hour, had escaped the knot of hair she’d piled on top of her head.

“One moment!” she called out.

She was just reaching for a dish towel to wipe her hands when the door swung open and Andrew trooped in, stomping his boots on the woven rug in front of the door to shake the rain off.

“Please do come in,” she said with a wry smile.

He looked up, a retort on his lips, but instead he fell silent staring at her.

“What?” she asked, touching her hair that she knew had frizzed in the steam from the hot water she’d poured into the sink.

In an instant, he closed the gap in three steps, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her deep.

Oh, to be kissed by Andrew Colter at the end of a long night. It was as luxurious as slipping into a hot bath after a day hunched over her sewing machine. His lips worked over her as she melted into him, her still damp fingers clinging to the front of his shirt. His hands stroked up her sides, skimming her breasts before sweeping down again to grip and pull her flush against his body.

She stepped blindly as he walked her until her back bumped against the wood block that formed her counter. Her bedroom was just up the stairs. If only he would scoop her up and—

Andrew tore his lips from hers, his breath ragged and fast. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.”

“Kiss me?” she asked, a little breathless herself.

“Kiss you the moment I walked in the door.”

“Why not?”

His lips tugged up a half inch, but he took a deliberate step back. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

Drat. He was all business and intent spy again. No fun at all.

She sighed. “I need to do the same.”

He looked up sharply. “Is everything all right?”

She paused, thinking back to Mrs. Wark’s threats and the unsettling way Douglas had dismissed her that afternoon. And then there was the matter of the invitation. No, it was best to let him go first and ease him into this once he’d unburdened himself.

“Everything is fine,” she said, turning back to the sinkful of dishes and picking up her scrubbing brush again. “Tell me your business first.”

He leaned on the counter next to her. It felt comfortable having him here in her space. No man other than Caleb had ever spent much time in her kitchen, but she found that she liked having Andrew there. It felt as though he fit.

“Your brother visited me,” he said.

“He was here when I came back home yesterday morning. He wasn’t happy with the late hour.”

“And what did you tell him?” he asked.

“That if he does not desist in passing judgment on my decisions, he can look forward to life without the benefits of having an older sister.”