Chapter 21
His hands tangled in my long, thick hair.
My arms wrapped around his neck. His height matched mine perfectly, and we were on the same level in every way.
Our passion, our rhythm, our pounding heartbeats and parting lips, all complemented each other.
It was equally sweet and thrilling. Mr. Ashby, Arthur, met my every kiss with enthusiastic acceptance, giving back much more than he received.
It should have been me to pull away first. I was, after all, the one who’d initiated it.
And yet, here was the man to whom I’d entrusted my life, the man who’d trusted me.
We had formed this bond of friendship that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
And now, this new passion he’d elicited from me had my head reeling. How could I pull away from him?
But Arthur was able to think straight, apparently, for he took me by the shoulders and extricated himself from my arms in a gentle yet decisive manner.
From the way he’d kissed me, one would have believed he’d fallen completely in love with me.
But the look on his face as I opened my eyes obliterated that idea.
Mr. Ashby watched me, both of us breathing heavily, with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.
It wasn’t the expression of a man in love.
He covered his face with his hands and turned away with a groan that sounded like unfettered regret.
Then he did the unthinkable, and walked away. Well, I wouldn’t have that.
One could not kiss someone without answering for it. I rushed after him and grabbed him by the arm.
“Arthur!” I said his name like an order. He still faced away from me, and I saw his shoulders rising and falling with the same breathlessness that I felt.
He shook off my hand. “I can’t talk about it, Elsie. Let’s just…pretend it didn’t happen.” His tone was dismissive. Despite my outrage, I froze there while he walked off. What on earth did he mean by “I can’t talk about it?” If he had a mouth to kiss, he had a mouth to speak.
How could I just pretend something like that hadn’t happened? I was not an emotionless being. Neither was Arthur Ashby, and yet he could say something so insensitive!
But as I stood there, he went around the corner, and all of my determination to make him stay evaporated.
Because he was right to walk away. We had both committed a crime against dignity, devotion, and loyalty.
We had betrayed someone who was incredibly special to us both.
Like Arthur had, I covered my face with my hands and groaned.
There truly was nothing to discuss. We should leave it here, in this quaint garden.
I looked behind me and took in the beautiful flowers, the sweet scent, and the simplicity of the design.
It would seem quaint no longer, but full of secret longings.
I saw the yellow flower Arthur had given to me just before all of my self-control disappeared.
It had fallen in my eagerness to be closer to him.
My arms had lifted of their own accord to wrap around his neck, and it had slipped from my fingers like my sanity.
I wanted to pick it up. To keep it and cherish it.
But I turned away from it instead. Whatever that moment with Arthur meant, I would abandon it as I did that flower.
There was no need to ponder on it. As I left the garden behind me, I came upon Patrice.
Hadn’t she just been in the kitchen? The time passed too quickly while I had been captivated by Arthur’s passion. I pinched my lips together.
She was holding a basket of folded linen and looking at me with stern disapproval. I didn’t say a word, but tried to go around her. She stepped into my path. I tried to go the other way but was stopped by her again.
I sighed, looking at her wearily. “Will you please allow me to pass? I have a headache and wish to rest.”
Patrice scoffed. “Have much to think on, do ye?”
My eyes widened. What had she seen?
“Ye were kissing him in the middle of everything. Did ye think no one would see? Yer lucky it was only me.”
Relief coursed through me. Thank heaven only Patrice had seen our betrayal. But then, I realized that Patrice seeing it was plenty bad in itself. I met her eyes again with an apology. “Please, let’s not discuss it. It…will never happen again. Just a one-time mistake. Truly.”
“Nay, Miss. ’Tis not a mistake to either of ye.”
“What are you saying?”
“Ye always pride yerself on knowing others’ feelin’s, but ye dinnae even know yer own.”
I bit my bottom lip, unsure how to rebut her claim. No, this was not worth thinking about. I crossed my arms and looked seriously at Patrice. “Anyway, it won’t happen again. We are here for Graham. That hasn’t changed.”
“Aye, that will never change.” Her knowing eyes caused a knot to form in my stomach.
I nodded at her. “Exactly. Just…don’t speak of this again. Think as though it never happened.” Mr. Ashby had said it best. We should pretend as if it never happened at all.
Patrice didn’t respond; instead, she went around me with the laundry and began whistling as she walked. Same old Patrice, being too shrewd for her own good. But I knew I could trust her to stay silent on the matter, at least around everyone else. I was sure to receive an earful from her later.
My walk back to the guest room was slow and full of paranoia. I disliked the idea of running into anyone, specifically Graham or Arthur. Mr. Ashby, I amended to myself. I mustn’t be so familiar with him. Especially now.
When I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it.
As soon as I shut my eyes, I recalled the moment I’d taken hold of Mr. Ashby’s shirt and pulled him to me.
My eyes flew open. What on earth had come over me?
The absolute mortification I felt threatened to crush me.
I wasn’t this person, this dishonorable woman who went around kissing men she didn’t love.
Let’s think this through. After weeks of difficulty, worry, and physical strain, I’d found Graham only to discover he didn’t remember me.
This wasn’t something one recovered from easily.
My body, mind, and heart were in need of recuperation.
While working through my heartbreak about Graham, I’d sought comfort.
Mr. Ashby had provided it by wiping my tears.
It was, simply put, a moment of vulnerability.
Despite it being a mistake, my heart was moved.
That fact couldn’t be entirely overlooked, but it must be put aside and forgotten.
I admitted that Mr. Ashby kissed extraordinarily well, and I enjoyed it very much.
But physical compatibility was inconsequential in the face of true love.
And if there was one fact I would never deviate from, it was this: My true love will always be Graham Anderson.