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Before his good sense could reel him in, he leaned forward and cupped her chin in his hands. The black silk ribbon of her hat smooth against his rough palms, he took her mouth in his. And her raspberry red lips parted for him like they’d done so many times before.
And it was the same, yet somehow better than the past. Sweeter than gooseberries and pears and those American oranges. And more delicious. He pulled her closer and near drank her in. Tart citrus danced on his tongue as every fiber stood in rapt enthrallment.
He closed his eyes and everything and anything was possible. His entire body grew taut with desire. More. He’d give her anything for more—blood, limbs, pieces of his soul—anything.
His arms drifted down her back, underneath the silly bustle, so he could lift her beautiful, soft frame closer to his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, crushing her breasts against his chest, her grip just as fierce as his, claiming his mouth right back. She moaned in his arms and he nearly came undone. From a kiss alone.
David closed his eyes and explored, willing himself to memorize every sensation, every last second of the kiss. Because for one glorious moment time stood still and they fit together. She was magnificent and he was lost and she was...
A terrible idea. He pulled back, breaking the connection, heart in his throat.
And even if she wanted him again—even if his life’s work, his goals would permit an entanglement—he could never forget the end of 1864, when the only thing propelling him through the war, the last bit of faith that someone understood him, died. He’d been a body to use, and nothing more. No feelings, except maybe revulsion at being seen with him. At being connected to him.
Another reminder that he’d never be good enough.
He glanced at Amalia, all powders and ruffles and curls and brandy. She had to have known how much she hurt him. How could she not? After months of questions and answers, all the letters, increasing in frequency after what they did on Rosh Hashanah.
Maybe if he’d talked less, listened more, read between the lines. He’d dared to hope that she’d let him in her world, and she’d want to be part of his and their stories could’ve melded.
Instead, he waited, praying that in person he could summon the courage to ask her, formally, to let him be more to her than a mere dalliance. To marry him, despite all his qualms with the institution.
And on the American New Year’s, after she avoided him for hours, he finally was brave enough, or at least drunk enough, to attempt a real, honest conversation with her, and what did she do? What did she say?
That she was getting married—to someone else. Not just any someone else, someone who was the exact opposite of him. You didn’t need to be brilliant to understand her meaning.
In the moment he’d wished she’d have shot him. It would’ve been less painful.
And he’d hated her. Cursed her name a dozen times inside
his head. Muttered angrily about her under his breath during every march, every battle.
By day. But at night he’d dreamed of her from the moment he laid eyes on her, that what he’d believed they’d had would have somehow been real—no matter how foolish, no matter how much of a distraction, no matter how far away from his plans she led him, even if she’d probably forgotten his name up until they were face-to-face on the train—that it was at least real.
And now...after that damned kiss... Adam knew nothing of temptation. With the little bit of the sanity he had left, he moved his hands to her shoulders, and gentled her back on the bench, away from his body.
“I apologize. I don’t know what came over me. That was very unprofessional.” He rubbed his knuckles with his thumb and stared at the circles he made.
“No.” She placed a gloved hand above his bare one and squeezed so he stopped. Tri-colored eyes, gray-green-brown, met his. “I liked it. I liked it very much and welcomed it and I dare say I’ve wanted it, with you, again. I know the idea of having a lover—”
“No. You don’t.” He gritted his teeth. “And you didn’t. Not really. You’re confused. Your life is in danger. Emotions are very high. You don’t know what you want. Like you said to Ethan, you don’t have ‘lovers.’ Your father and Thad would not be pleased.”
Besides, if “lover” was what she wanted to call what he’d been to her, he’d been a rather limited one, a mostly-over-her-clothing one. A shame really, if one considered it. Not that he would consider it, or anything of the sort, it’d just been that she was the one who added the word to the conversation. Oy, he needed to make his mind stop.
“I see.” She folded her hands in her lap, her neck straight, but her eyes blazing high and hot. Except her voice was calm. Too calm. “You know my mind better than I do? And my future? And my plans? You want me to mind my family, like a child?”
David swallowed—hard and loud enough that it vibrated his brain. He could still taste her on his tongue. “I’m not saying that—I just, well, I’ve been in difficult situations. In battle. I know how people—”
“Of course.” The grind of her teeth echoed above the birdcalls. Not an auspicious sign. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen from his handiwork. Probably scratched too, from his stubble. He stroked the bristles.
She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something distasteful—him, no doubt. “Why should someone as fragile and feeble-minded as me be able to retain her faculties in difficult situations? Why would the fact that I’m a woman now, not a sixteen-year-old girl anymore, matter? You’re not that much older than I am. Not even a full two years.”
He should confess. Everything. All his feelings—the anger, the hurt, and the damned attraction or whatever it was that still, somehow survived. He should explain that, despite everything, he wanted her—completely, even if it was dangerous, and idiotic, and not going to happen given their situation.
But he couldn’t. And not just due to her father and brother. He could take them both, giants or not.
No, it was about him. And her.
The bitterness from the rejection years ago and the hurt choked down any words he could offer, at least in that moment.
