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All she did was scrape her teeth over her bottom lip, release it, eyes narrowed and glittering in the bright morning sun. “Go on.”
“I—I…” He stumbled, fumbled about like a soused idiot with no notion of which way to go. “I like you exceedingly. And completely out of proportion to the length of our association, but when one considers the circumstances, perhaps my regard may be counted not a measure of insanity?”
Insane or not, you must end this folly now.
“I wish, fervently so, that I was in a position to see you again, but alas—”
She placed her fingers against his mouth, stalling whatever he’d intended to say. “I think I understand. Astonishingly, no insult is felt. Only a large measure of flatteration—is that a word?” Her fingers drifted down his chest. “Doubtful, but it does work for the moment.”
“As have we. Thank you for the wondrous kisses.”
“I shall remember those always.” His Maryann spoke swiftly and blinked faster than he’d seen her do thus far. “And I must be off. I may delay no longer.”
“Right.” Well then. There was that. How did he remain upright and stoic, given how the burgeoning dreams he’d dared conceive now clashed and clattered all around him? She obviously cared naught for his barbarous declarations. Needed to return to her home and life. “And we cannot forget that I have a cat to bury properly.”
She gripped his hand. “And to say a prayer over? Please.”
Ed grimaced. His hand? Did the missing one bother her? He thought not, but perhaps—
“I know you do not like cats.”
“I never claimed that.” He pushed the lowering thought away. He might have insulted her honor with the mistress mention, but he’d not insult her by thinking less of their time together, not belittle himself, by trying to ascertain why she now seemed so determined to be off. “What I do not like is the idea of burying them in the dark, in the middle of the night, when it’s freezing and sleeting.”
“I can acknowledge that.” She released his hand, grudgingly, or so he wanted to think. “I wish you safe journeys.”
He gave a slight smile, trying not to cry out at the loss of her touch, more than somewhat wistful about all that would never happen. “But I remain here. You are the one journeying forth. And without escort, which—”
“Please. Not that again.” More than once during their evening meal, he had offered to escort her home. She’d avoided making any specific mention of where that was, and had declined his assistance. Heartily.
So perhaps she would be ashamed at the thought of being seen with you…
But no, she looked at him, ogled him, still blinking swiftly. Still not moving off, despite her words to the contrary.
“Here. If you won’t let me accompany you home, at least take this.” He shook off his coat, with less poise than he might have wished, and swung the protective leather around her shoulders, stilling her halfhearted protests and fastening it beneath her neck. “With the sleeve severed and sewn, we cannot hope for a better fit. But at least be warm, for me if not yourself, and allow the destruction of your dress to be hidden on your return.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged with a soft smile. “You are right.” She glimpsed downward and grimaced. Then met his eyes once more. “I am relieved to not be strolling the countryside in such a state of shambles. For a sometimes surly grumbler, you are remarkably considerate.”
“And for an oft stubborn woman—” You kiss beyond compare.
I will miss you dreadfully. Which made absolutely no sense, they had just met.
But he couldn’t say any of those things, and while his mind blundered about, she spoke with ease. “As to your journeys? Granted, for a former soldier and current Warrick gamekeeper, you may be here. But I perceive this may not be your ultimate destination.”
What a peculiar thing to say. How would she know this was only a temporary reprieve before he reluctantly embraced the duties facing him forever onward? “What makes you think thus?”
Her gaze went unerringly to his missing appendage. She reached forth and grazed her fingers down his arm and past the bend of his elbow, leaving them where the bone and flesh stopped, the sleeve of his shirt shortened and bound to cover the ungainly sight.
“You are healing. That much is obvious. I cannot imagine the atrocities you have witnessed or perhaps participated in.” Her gaze veered to the side. She swallowed and then faced him once more.
Had he hit his head back in Spain? Had he lost his brain instead of his arm and fingers? Because the next thing to reach Ed’s awareness was how very tightly she wrapped both her arms around him, how she crushed her entire front—from face to feet—along his hungry body and clung. Gave him the fiercest, longest, utterly best hug in memory.
She must have stood on her toes, for her lips found their way to his neck. One quick kiss. Then another. Was that her tongue? Had she just licked him?
His head reeled, senses spun, for her ardent actions roused his previously relaxed champion to stiff and standing—all the more confounding because they were saying goodbye.
“Be well, Mr. Edwards.” Her words were smothered against his skin. “Thank you for everything. Lord Grayson thanks you as well.”
Then she was gone. Her lips. Her arms. Her warmth.
