Page 65 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
A veritable confluence of emotion caught her and set her back a step. Sterne.
There was a note tucked in with the heather.
I’m sorry.
I’m a fool.
Can we speak this evening?
She foughtthe tears that threatened to rise as she confronted the maid. “Is he downstairs?”
“No, Miss. He dropped the book off and left again, straightaway.”
She didn’t stop to grab a wrap or a bonnet, or even to think. She just clutched the book and took off at a run.
Chapter 15
He heard her calling his name. He turned . . . and froze.
She stalked him, her arms and head bare as if she’d just run out of the house. Over her morning dress she wore only her anger and it rolled out ahead of her in a wave. She was an avenging angel, with her skirts flaring and her eyes blazing and her arm extended. She held, not a sword, but the book he’d left her.
“Take it.” She thrust it at him, her gaze averted. “You must stop. You cannot push me one way and pull me another. Not any longer.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to talk to you. I thought that . . . tonight . . . after everything is settled . . . I want the chance to explain.”
“There’s no need. I see you, Barrett. I know part of you longs for home and family and people who love you. But I see the other part, too. The wary, defensive side of you that sees intimacy as a vulnerability. You react to it as if it’s a threat. And I understand why, I think.”
He didn’t recoil. He couldn’t. It was the truth and he was man enough to admit it. “I . . .” He looked about. “We cannot have this conversation in the street. Let’s step into the garden.”
She nodded. She wouldn’t take his arm, however. She just moved stiffly by his side and went through the gate alone when he held it for her.
The garden lay quiet at this time of day. Insects buzzed in the trees. The sun was warm. She moved further in and he followed, thankful that there were enough shrubs and trees to block them from view.
She turned abruptly and shoved the book at him, resting it on his chest. “Take it back.”
He didn’t move. She let it go. The book fell between them and she moved away.
“It is infuriating to me that you are the one person in the world who knows me so well, who understands me so completely. Who else would give me such a gift? No one. Who else would encourage me in pursuing such a matter? It seemsabsurdlyintimate andentirelyunfair. Why should you know me so well—and yet not love me?”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word unfair,” he growled. “I do love you, damn it all to hell! Though I tried not to.”
She scoffed. “How flattering.”
“I wanted to wait until this evening to explain.”
“Explain now.” Her shoulders slumped. “Please.”
He went to her and gathered her in. She didn’t fight him. She just held so very still and felt so small, in his arms. He’d done this to her. He had to make it right. Somehow.
“Do you know why my mother came searching for me?”
“Because you didn’t answer her summons,” she said quietly. “It’s what she said.”
“I didn’t. I don’t. Not ever, if I can help it.” He set her back. “Do you recall when I told you I don’t like silence?”
She nodded.
“That house. That’s where I learned to hate the quiet.” He turned away and put a hand on a tree. It was warm and alive and helped him go on. “The place is cold. Empty—of everything that makes a house a home. It’s silent as a tomb, but no one’s spirit could rest there. Not the servants, not my parents, not me. In fact, it feels like I die a little, every time I set foot in the place.”
