Page 77 of A Literary Liaison
She turned away to face the fireplace, using the moment to compose herself. The flames danced hypnotically, reminding her of candlelight on Edgar’s skin, of the way his eyes had burned as he kissed her. The memory both strengthened her resolve and complicated her position enormously.
Guardian Angel
The last raysof sunset bled crimson across the sky as Elisha stepped through the door, the warmth of the lanterns doing little to ease the tension knotted between her shoulder blades. The library’s familiar scents—leatherbound books, beeswax candles, the lingering trace of Edgar’s sandalwood cologne—wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.
Edgar halted his restless pacing at her entrance, the floorboards creaking beneath his suddenly still feet. The dying light caught the dishevelment of his usually immaculate dark hair, evidence of fingers raked through it in agitation. His cravat hung loose, his waistcoat slightly askew—all signs of what appeared to be worry that had consumed him during her absence.
“Elisha.” Her name emerged as half prayer, half breath. He crossed the room in those graceful, urgent strides, then hesitated. His hands lifted toward her, then faltered, as though unsure of his welcome after the weight of the day’s revelations. “I’ve been beside myself with worry. Are you—” His sharp eyes searched her face, no doubt cataloging every nuance of her expression. “Are you all right? What did Thornton want?”
The careful distance he maintained, clearly trying to respect her space after such an emotionally charged day, nearly undid her. “Oh, Edgar,” she sighed, closing the gap between them and pressing herself against the solid warmth of his chest. His arms came around herinstantly, desperately, one hand cradling her head while the other spanned her waist.
She listened to the steady thrum of his heart beneath her ear, letting its rhythm calm her own racing pulse. The lingering chill from the evening air melted away in his embrace, though a different sort of shiver coursed through her as his lips pressed against her temple.
“Come,” she murmured after several long moments. “We should sit. There is much to tell you.”
They settled on the settee before the banked fire, its embers casting a gentle glow that softened the growing shadows. Their hands remained entwined, neither willing to relinquish that point of contact. Edgar’s signet ring pressed against her fingers, a tangible reminder of the vast social gulf between them—a gulf that seemed simultaneously meaningless and insurmountable.
Elisha drew a steadying breath, the silk of her gown rustling softly with the movement. “First, I want you to know that my heart belongs to you, Edgar. Nothing that transpired today has changed that.” She squeezed his hands, noting how the muscles in his shoulders seemed to remain taut despite her reassurance. A log shifted in the grate, sending up a shower of sparks that reflected in his dark blue eyes.
“But?” Edgar prompted gently, his voice carrying that particular strain she’d come to recognize—the careful control of a man accustomed to masking his emotions. The firelight caught the aristocratic planes of his face, highlighting the tight line of his jaw.
“But the meeting with Mr. Thornton was… unexpected, to say the least.” Her fingers absently traced the lines on his palm. The touch seemed to ground them both as she began her tale.
She recounted her conversation with Thornton, watching emotions play across Edgar’s features like shadows in candlelight that made her heart clench. When she reached the part about the Royal Mail contract, his hands tightened on hers.
“He asked for my help in securing the bid,” she explained, hervoice dropping to match the intimate hush of the room. “He believes my connections and insights could be valuable.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Though I suspect he seeks more than mere business intelligence.”
Edgar’s thumb traced soothing circles on her wrist, though she could feel the tension that seemed to thrum through him. “I see,” he said carefully. “And did he say why he thought you’d be willing to assist him in this endeavor?”
Elisha hesitated, the weight of Thornton’s proposition settling heavy in her chest. The memory of his calculating gaze made her appreciate anew the honest passion in Edgar’s eyes. “He… he made me an offer, Edgar. A business proposition, of sorts.”
As she detailed Thornton’s proposal—the promise of partnership, financial independence, her own company—she watched Edgar’s face with growing concern. The muscle in his jaw worked silently, and his posture took on that rigid quality she recognized from formal gatherings where he appeared forced to maintain his composure despite provocation.
“I see,” he said when she finished, each word measured and precise. The careful control in his voice broke her heart more than any display of anger could have. “Thornton’s offer is certainly… generous.”
“Edgar,” she said urgently, rising to her knees on the settee to cup his face between her palms. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, the slight roughness of evening stubble a reminder of their intimate familiarity. “You must understand, I have no intention of accepting his proposal. My heart—my body—belongs to you completely.”
Edgar leaned into her touch, his eyes seeming to darken with what looked like a mixture of vulnerability and possession that made her breath catch. “But?” he prompted again as a gust of wind rattled the windowpanes.
Elisha sighed, sinking back onto the settee though she kept onehand against his cheek. “But I would be lying if I said the offer didn’t affect me.” She hurried on as what looked like pain flashed across his features, “Not because I’m tempted to accept it. Never that. But because it made me realize how deeply I’ve buried certain dreams—of recognition, of making my own path in the world of business and publishing.”
The confession hung in the air between them, heavy as incense. Edgar captured her hand against his face, turning to press a kiss to her palm. The tender gesture, coming from a man whose every movement was usually calculated for propriety, made her heart ache.
“I understand, Elisha. Truly.” His voice carried a rough edge that seemed to speak of barely contained emotion. “And I wish…” He broke off, jaw clenching. “God help me, I wish I could offer you the same opportunities.”
“Oh, Edgar, no,” Elisha breathed, shifting closer until their thighs pressed together. The heat of him through their clothing reminded her viscerally of their earlier passion, of promises sealed with more than just words. “That’s not what I meant at all. What we have—” She pressed her free hand to his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath her palm. “This is so much more important than any business venture.”
Edgar covered her hand with his own. “Is it enough, though?” The vulnerability in his voice made her chest tight. “Am I enough?”
Tears pricked at her eyes. This proud, powerful man, who could command a room with a single glance, now looked at her with such uncertainty. “You are more than enough,” she whispered fiercely, pressing closer until their foreheads touched. “Edgar, you must believe me. Yes, Thornton’s offer stirred up old dreams. But they’re nothing—nothing—compared to what I feel for you.”
His eyes, when they met hers, seemed to shine with emotion in the firelight. “Oh, Elisha,” he murmured, one hand rising to cradle her nape. “How am I so fortunate?”
They sat in silence for a moment, breathing each other’s air, the crackle of the fire and distant roll of thunder their only accompaniment. Then Edgar pulled back slightly, though his hand remained warm on her neck. His expression had shifted, taking on that serious cast she recognized from their discussions of reform.
“As much as I wish I could offer you the same financial independence, the same business opportunities…” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I cannot. My family obligations are substantial.”
Edgar rose and moved to the window where the last light was fading from the sky. His broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of responsibility as visibly as any crown. “I have four siblings to see settled, not to mention my mother to care for,” he said, his voice low and measured. “There are dowries to consider, estates to maintain, ensuring each of them has a proper start in life when they wed.”
