Page 11 of Singing For His Kiss

She cleared her throat. “I improvised. I… I like playing. If I get a chance. I… hope it was all right.”

She licked suddenly dry lips. His eyes flickered to her mouth and travelled slowly back to her eyes. The tight expression he wore slipped a little. He looked tired. Bone-weary, as though holding up the weight of the world had become that little but too much. Her heart tumbled, and she mentally made it stop.

“I’d forgotten how nice it is to hear music.”

Elizabeth waited for him to explain, but he remained silent. She guessed now would be the best time to take her leave as she’d planned. She’d had the shower, eaten a meal, and now she needed to find a place to stay for the night. She tucked her hands into her back pockets and rocked onto her toes. Now that it was definitely time for her to leave, she knew she had to, she was surprisingly reluctant. James was… nice. Actually, more than nice if she was totally honest. Unlike any man she’d come across. She found she enjoyed talking to him, which was highly unusual.

“You’re very good with Madeline.”

“She’s a lovely little girl.” She meant it. Madeline had made an indelible dent on her heart in such a short time.

“She likes you very much. She’s usually not that friendly with other people. Other… women.”

“I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time.” She really didn’t know what to say after that.

“Elizabeth, I want to thank you…”

James reached a hand towards her. In an instant, it was as though other arms reached for her. Arms with the intent to hurt and control. The world dissolved, and she went to the dark place David Logan had introduced her to. She nearly choked with the impact of it.

“I have to go.”

This was the wake-up call she needed. A reprieve was all this was. A glimpse of a fantasy. The dose of reality that reinforced the fact that fairy tales were just fiction. She mentally cursed the wine she’d drunk for making her too relaxed and not keeping her mind on what she should be doing. She needed more kilometres between herself and the Wanderer’s Homestead and what she’d left there.

“Don’t go.”

Elizabeth stilled, heat traveling through her body, making her skin sticky with a film of perspiration. Maybe she’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe James was a man who expected payment for a meal, a glass of wine and a shower in that age-old way men did for such things. She hadn’t had him pegged as such, but she’d learned through David a veneer was only skin deep. Even though she’d been through this many, many times, it always made her feel nauseated.

First she’d try and talk him out of it, then if he got physical, she’d turn and run. Her eyes slipped to the door at the bottom of the stairs. That way. Not bother with her backpack. Getting away was always better than having clothes on your back any day. She waited, her eyes held to his face. Reading him. Waiting. Her heart beat.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Then her heart tumbled painfully when he said, “I would like you to stay.”

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