Beauty and the Blacksmith (Spindle Cove #3.5)(6)
Author: Tessa Dare

She fidgeted with the necklace he’d mended just that day—the one with the vial of precious tincture dangling from the chain. “I don’t even need it anymore. I know in my soul, I don’t. I only wear it out of habit.” Her blue eyes met his. “And because you made it.”

Her confession was like a punch to the jaw. It came out of nowhere and set his head spinning.

The whiskey was starting to hit her, too. He could tell from the glassy sheen in her eyes and the unsteady motions of her hands. But mostly, by the ridiculous words spouting from her lips.

He tossed a few coins on the bar and stood, putting a hand under her elbow to help her to her feet, too. “Come. I’ll walk you back to the rooming house.”

He didn’t give her a chance to object, tucking her arm through his in a way that he hoped wouldn’t look improper to anyone who might happen to see.

“You were right today,” she confessed. “I’m not clumsy.”

No sooner had she said it than she stumbled over the doorstep.

“Not usually.” She giggled.

Giggled? He didn’t remember ever hearing Diana Highwood giggle.

“I broke the necklace on purpose, just so you’d have to mend it. So I could watch you mend it.” She shook her head. “That’s dishonest of me, isn’t it? Why would I do that? Lie to you, lie to myself.”

He herded her across the lane and onto the village green. It was muddy, but the shortest route. Getting her home as quickly as possible seemed his best strategy.

“Miss Highwood, you need to rest.”

“I don’t need to rest. I’m cured. I’m perfectly well.”

“Nevertheless, it’s late. And wet. You need to be getting back to the rooming house before your mother and sister worry.”

“No.” She lifted a hand to her temple. “No, I don’t want to go back to the rooming house. I want . . .” Her face scrunched up, and her speech gained in rapidity what it lost in coherence. “Oh, I don’t know what I want. That’s the problem. All my life, I’ve been discouraged from wanting anything. I couldn’t risk Minerva’s love of debate, or Charlotte’s exuberance, or even Mama’s nerves. I had to be calm. Delicate, cool, serene Diana. That’s been me, always. No wild passions. No adventurous dreams. It seemed silly to plan for the future. For all I knew, I wouldn’t live to see it.”

He didn’t like this talk of her dying. “But you said you’re cured now.”

“And then tonight . . .” Her voice broke as she gestured at the Queen’s Ruby. “Tonight, my sister asked me, Don’t I want to start living? And I realized I don’t even know what I want from life. I know what my mother wants for me. I know what everyone else expects. But what do I truly desire?”

Excellent question. Aaron waited for the answer.

Her hand pressed to her chest. “Do I want to have a season in London and marry a lord? Do I want to stay here in the village and become a permanent spinster? Do I want to join a circus? I don’t know, Mr. Dawes. I don’t know, and it terrifies me. All those years of setting aside my emotions. My lungs are healed, but at what cost? I am a stranger to my own heart.”

Raindrops spotted her face, like dew on petals. Damn, this was torture. He wanted to comfort or guard her, but he didn’t know how. She wasn’t his to tend.

He pulled her under the branches of a chestnut tree. The least he could do was shield her from the rain.

“There’s only one thing I feel absolutely certain of,” she said.

“Tell me.”

Whatever it was, he vowed that she would have it.

At last she’d shaken off the manacles clapped on her—the restraints of illness and her mother’s expectations. Good. Good for her. She deserved to have the things she desired.

“This afternoon.” She drew close. “I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted it more than I can remember wanting anything in my life.”

With that, she tilted her face to his.

And closed her eyes.

Aaron stared down at her, watching the white puffs of her breath as it left her lips. He could taste them. Little clouds of whiskey.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Didn’t . . . didn’t you want to kiss me, too?”

“I did.”

“Then why don’t you? We’re alone. No one ever has to know.”

He snorted at that last. “It’s impossible to keep a secret in this village.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been keeping all sorts of secrets for years. For example, sometimes I think, very hard, about how you’d look without your shirt. You never would have guessed that, would you? No one would.”

He couldn’t help his startled laugh.

“And I gaze at your hair.” She lifted a hand, and her ungloved fingers caught a lock of his hair. “It gets long sometimes, all the way to your collar. And then one day, it will be short again. I always wonder who you’ve been to see.”

She was half drunk, more than a little overwrought . . . but her words tapped a deep well of curiosity. He’d always known there was more to her than the pretty face everyone admired. He’d known her to possess courage and a good heart. But now, he caught glimmers of other qualities. Sensuality. Jealousy. A sly sense of humor.

This was an entirely new Diana Highwood. A real one. And she was with him, right now, in the rain and dark.

“Won’t you kiss me?” she whispered, sidling close. “Just the once?”

“The thing is, Miss Highwood, I’m not interested in kissing you just the once.”

“Oh.” Her face fell.

He propped one finger under her chin, tilting her face back up. “If I were to kiss you, once wouldn’t be enough. I’d want to kiss you many times. In lots of places.”

Her eyes flew wide. “Oh. I . . . I see.”

He doubted she did see. She couldn’t even imagine. A few fingers of whiskey couldn’t provide that much education. The carnal images in his mind could shock the silk from her stockings.

“Listen,” he said, “I know you’ve been living in some sort of cage. And tonight, it seems you learned you’ve been holding the key all along. You deserve a bit of rebellion, but I can’t be it. I can’t be the man you wake up regretting.”

“Then make the kiss good. So I won’t have regrets.” Smiling, she slid her arms around his neck. Her weight pitched forward.

Jesus. She could barely stay on her feet. Which, of course, meant her body was all pressed up against his. Fortunately, her woolen cloak was as thick as a horse blanket.