Page 41 of An Unwitting Alliance
Tom scoffed. “And who, might I ask, did you find more attractive than me?”
She bit her lower lip. That was an entirely different question. Thinking someone handsome and being attracted to them were not always the same thing. In his case, however, he claimed both from her in spades. She thought of Mr. Gibbons, but in truth, Tom put him to shame. “I refuse to answer that.”
“Did you kiss at the ball?” Bethany asked, her smile growing wider than Cassandra had ever seen.
“Bethany,” Cassandra chided. “We do not speak of such things.”
“Why not? Papa kissed Mama. I saw him.” She looked up at Mr. Harwood. “You kiss too, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Even the horses kiss.” Mr. Harwood chuckled. “Your sister though. I am not sure she knows how.”
Cassandra’s mouth gaped. “I know how.” Why did she feel obligated to defend herself to him? It did not matter one ounce what Tom thought of her ability to kiss.
“Go ahead, then. No one is stopping you.” His eyes seemed to dare her to kiss him.
She swallowed and stared at his mouth. A smile played there, and she could not decide if he was serious or teasing. Or both. But there was no way he could be serious.
“Kiss him,” Jane said.
Bethany repeated the order. “Kiss him!”
Cassandra lifted Jane up a bit and kissed the top of her head. “There. See? I know how to kiss.”
“It’s not the same,” Bethany whined.
“No, it is not.” Mr. Harwood’s whole countenance laughed.
“You can teach her, Mr. Tom, like you taught me to hold the kitten,” Jane offered.
Good gracious. It would be most improper if everyone started calling Mr. Harwood Tom. And he had better not even try to kiss her. “Mr.Harwoodhas not the time for such nonsense.”
“I would be willing to make time.” Mr. Harwood gave her a lopsided grin, then lifted an expectant brow.
She glared at him. Had he no shame? “I thought we called a truce,” she hissed.
He shrugged. “We can add it into our contract.” His tone suggested it was worth considering.
She blinked rapidly. “There is only one contract, and we are against it, remember?”
“I suppose you are right. Very well, I will stop. But only on one condition: you must continue this story for the girls. You may do the honor of telling them all about our future wedding.”
He would stop, would he? That man never stopped. She would have to do it for him. “Girls, there is not going to be...” She paused, their expectant faces so innocent and hopeful. She coughed. “There is not going to be an end to this story because the wedding is not for some weeks. You’ll have to see for yourself when the time comes.”
It was the first time she’d admitted to herself that there might actually be a wedding with Mr. Harwood as the groom. Yes, she felt an undeniable attraction, especially now, as she was seated so near him. And the smallest part of her still entertained the wild idea of him kissing her. And that reckless thought scared her to death. But there was so much more to marriage than attraction. Mutual consent to marry each other at all, for starters. Paving the way for her sisters suddenly gave her yet another reason not to give up. Someday they might be in her position, and what kind of example was she being?
Besides,ifshe married, she wanted someone who was good with children. And she was not even sure Tom liked children.
Bethany settled deeper in his arms, sighing with pleasure. Tom smiled down at her. His hand came to her hair, and he gentlysmoothed the snarls from her curls. Never mind. His actions negated any impression Cassandra had had about his abilities with children. And she knew well that her brothers enjoyed his company just as much as her younger sisters did.
He’d said he had not dreamed of being a father and perhaps had been uncomfortable around her overwhelming family. But had he not adapted to everyone with little complaint? His tender strokes on Bethany’s hair tore down one of the few excuses Cassandra had left guarding her heart from him. She searched her mind frantically for another.
There was still her lack of trust in him.
Even now his flirtations were too lighthearted and lacked the depth of commitment. She did not feel unsafe in his company—just the opposite. But she wanted love, not the impression of it.
“Tell us a different story,” Jane said, interrupting her thoughts. “Tell us about cats.”
A yawn stole over Cassandra, and she did her best to stifle it.
