A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(32)
Author: Tessa Dare

Kate couldn’t respond. Words failed her.

“There,” he said, taking the forgotten meat pie from her hand and tossing it to the waiting dog. “Charming story for the breakfast table.”

Her own silence mocked her. She’d asked for the truth. She’d pushed him for information, and now she was allowing him to push her away.

Kate willed her tongue to work. Say something nice. Anything.

“I . . .” She swallowed hard. “I find you unbearably handsome.”

He stared at her. “Miss Taylor . . .”

“I do. I find you unbearably, painfully handsome. I didn’t always.” The words spilled from her lips, unconsidered. “But ever since Hastings . . . it’s hard for me to even look at you sometimes. It can’t come as much surprise. You must be aware how many women are attracted to you.”

He made a derisive sound. “It’s not for my fine looks.”

Kate went silent, suddenly keenly aware of all his other attractions. His strong body, that air of command, the fiercely protective instincts. The talents that must fuel those “tales” Sally Bright mentioned in the All Things shop.

“I’m certain women are attracted to you for a host of reasons,” she said. “But I can only speak for myself. And I find you unbearably handsome.”

He frowned. “Why are you saying this? I don’t need this from you.”

“Perhaps you don’t.”

But I think you do.

She might not be able to comprehend the horrors he’d faced on a battlefield, but she knew how it felt to be an unwanted child. She understood how it felt to be deemed worthless and ugly by the very person charged with her care. She knew how each and every unkind remark worked on a child’s confidence for weeks, months, years. Bruises faded from the skin, but insults worked like weevils, burrowing into a person’s soul.

She knew it took dozens of kindnesses to counteract just one slight, and even then—she knew how she’d come to dodge compliments, even well into adulthood, dismissing them as mere pity or insincerity. Because how could they be true? The ugly words were still there, deep inside, and they outlasted everything. They were the bones in this churchyard. No matter how much soil was heaped atop them, no matter how many cheerful flowers were planted over the grave—they would always be there.

Those hateful words could outlive dirt.

She knew. And she couldn’t watch him hurting and not do something to counteract it.

“I find you unbearably handsome,” she said. “I know you’re modest and guarded and you don’t need to hear it. But I need to say it. So there it is.”

She touched her fingertips to his cheek. He flinched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Stop that.”

Make me.

Reveling in the thrill of disobedience, she framed his face in her hands, letting the tips of her longest fingers graze the dark fringe of his hair. The icy chips of his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

So she let her gaze fall to his lips, wondering—not for the first time—how that grim slash of a mouth could transform into something so passionate and warm when they kissed. She touched the pad of her thumb to the hollow of his cheek. Where a dimple might appear, if he could ever be coaxed to smile.

She very much wanted to see him smile. She wanted to make him laugh, long and loud.

“You’re handsome,” she said.

“You’re absurd.”

“If I am speaking absurdities, it must be your fault. This hard angle of your jaw”—she traced it with a fingertip—“quite scrambles my thoughts, and your eyes . . . There’s some puzzle in them I want to solve.”

“Don’t try. You don’t know me.” His voice was harsh, but his gaze was stark with hunger. Open, naked hunger.

Yes. Triumph surged through her veins. She was getting somewhere now.

“I know you took a melon for me.” She smiled. “That’s a start. And when you look at me the way you’re doing right now, I scarcely know myself. I feel womanly, to a degree I’ve never felt before. But then I feel girlish, too. I have to remind myself not to do something silly, like twirl my hair or bounce on my toes. I think that’s quite definite proof that you’re handsome, Thorne. At least, to one woman.”

And if she was right—and that small spark in his eyes was a deeply buried yearning . . .

Kate thought she could live with being beautiful to just one man.

He took her by the waist, pulling her close. She gasped at the suddenness and strength in the motion. She suspected her shock was his purpose.

“I don’t fear you,” she said.

“You should fear me.” He tightened his hold on her waist. In a matter of three paces he had her backed against the nearest wall. A lush green curtain of ferns and ivy framed her hair and face. “You should fear this. Every minute we’re in this churchyard together, you’re risking ruin. You could lose everything you’ve wanted most.”

She knew he spoke the truth. Just a few hundred yards away were four people who offered the human connection and family love she’d grown up dreaming of and hoping to find. The Gramercys represented her heart’s desire.

And yet she was here, with him. Sharing a highly improper embrace on sacred ground, with only the dead to chaperone. Had she lost her mind?

Perhaps.

Or perhaps she’d found another heart’s desire.

Was there some limit on them? Couldn’t a girl have more than one?

The Gramercys made her feel accepted. But Thorne made her feel desired. Needed. In her youth, she never could have known to wish for this.

She murmured, “What have you done to me?”

“Not a fraction of what I’d like to do.”

She smiled. There it was again—a flash of that dry, disarming wit. Oh, she was in so much trouble. Wringing affection from this man would be like squeezing honey from a stone. But he’d brought her this close, and she couldn’t resist reaching for something more.

Don’t hide from me, she willed. Don’t pull away.

“Handsome,” she whispered, taking a chisel and hammer to the stone. Chipping away as best she knew how. “Fine-looking. Attractive. Striking. Noble. Body-thrilling. Swoon-inducing. Beauti—”

His kiss made a liar of her.

She’d blithely told him she didn’t fear him—but that was before his lips came crushing down on hers. Before his tongue invaded her mouth. Plunging deep, and then deeper still. Exploring, stroking, demanding. Stirring up emotions she didn’t know how to control.