Chapter Seven #4
He raised a single dark eyebrow before turning to his workers.
‘It is fixed now. You can continue,’ and then he gripped her upper arm, his heated touch shocking and delighting her in equal measure, and he began to lead her back across the work floor to some steps.
He propelled her up the stairs and thrust open a door, ushering her inside.
He closed the door behind them, shutting out the heat and noise, and leaned back on the wood.
‘You should not be here, Bea,’ he said. ‘Start explaining yourself.’
She looked around her. Was this his office, where he worked? It made sense—it was elevated, marking his superior position, and it was a stark contrast to the noisy work floor. And yet she had seen him down there, getting his hands dirty among all the rest.
‘Are you sure you’re not hurt?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Do you do manual labour?’ she asked. ‘Mix with the lower classes?’
‘You should know by now, I do not judge people on their position in life.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I am sure it has not escaped your attention that sometimes I prefer the company of those who do not come from the same background as I do.’
She took that in. ‘But you chastised me the other day, when I went below stairs at Longwood to find Martha.’
‘That was different. My father is there. It is still his house. I make the rules here.’
Something shifted inside her, knowing he worked shoulder to shoulder with men and women like her—and not because he had to, but out of choice. Perhaps he didn’t care for class as much as she’d thought. Had she got everything wrong about this man?
She stepped towards him. ‘Couldn’t someone else have stepped in down there?’
He frowned. ‘Rather me get hurt than someone else. It is my mill. Besides, what do you care?’ he said, his eyes narrowing on her. ‘You still haven’t explained what you are doing here, Bea.’
She twisted her hands. ‘Well, you left, before I got the chance to thank you for the wonderful gift. You left, without me getting the chance to say what I wanted to say.’
‘I did not think you wanted me around—after last night. I thought it would be easier if I stayed away from you for a while.’
Bea tried to drum up some of her bravery. She had come this far. She could do this. She took a step towards him. ‘I do.’
‘You do what?’
She bit her lip. ‘I do care. I do want you around.’ She forced herself to move towards him.
‘I came here to tell you that I lied, last night, about what I said. About not wanting you to kiss me. I do, but I was scared—hurt by the things you’d said about me and about what had happened before.
But the truth is…what I came here to say is, I’m glad you want to know me, Edward, because although I’m afraid, I want to know you too. ’
The breath left him.
When Edward had ridden here, he had felt the need to get away from Bea.
He hadn’t been able to be around her for a moment longer, worried he was going to haul her to him—to hell with his pride—and try to seduce her again.
He had been wavering between his own lust, his frustration and anger at himself all day long.
He’d only managed to keep his emotions in check because his friends had been there, but once they’d left, his desire had threatened to spiral out of control.
He had admired Bea’s behaviour during their guests’ visit.
She had been the perfect host, handling their questions with grace and poise.
He could tell his friends liked her. Mrs Thorpe especially had warmed to her.
He had seen the way the men had smiled and trifled with her, especially Mr Webb.
When his friend had suggested Bea save him a dance at the ball, Edward had found himself clenching his fists, an awful feeling of possessiveness pounding through him—that she was his, no one else’s.
When she’d made that blunder with the milk, his heart had gone out to her.
Somehow, he liked her all the more, for she represented something real in a world full of fakeness.
He saw how effortlessly she charmed everyone with her smile and her genuine warmth.
She had even made them laugh, cutting through the atmosphere in the room.
He had felt his chest swell with pride that she was his wife, and he’d realised, with surprise, that he felt more concern for Bea, wanting to make sure she was at ease in their company, rather than their perception of her and their relationship.
While she had chatted away, he had wanted to be the recipient of her smiles.
He had almost wished his friends away so he could be alone with her, talk to her, get to know her better.
She looked beautiful, and he’d wanted to claim his marital rights, feeling the crushing disappointment of her rejection wash over him again.
He had studied Mr and Mrs Morland and Mr and Mrs Thorpe, more aware of how happy they seemed to be in their relationships than ever before, and he had felt a strange yearning for the same closeness.
That’s when he had known that he must be losing it, for he had never desired a union like that before.
Now Bea was here. She had come to his mill to find him. And she had just uttered the words he’d been longing to hear.
Edward had been shocked when he’d seen her standing there in the middle of the workers’ floor.
His first thought had been of the danger—he didn’t want her to suffer these conditions.
It was dirty. Noisy. In fact, he was of the serious mind to go and find George out on the street and give him what for, for bringing her here.
Then he’d thought perhaps something was wrong with Thomas, and his heart had plummeted.
But it seemed she hadn’t come here for that reason either.
She had come here to see him, to tell him this. It had him reeling.
It was a brave thing for her to do but he would not touch her. Not until he was sure that was what she wanted.
He came off the door towards her, dropping his arms. ‘You want me to kiss you?’
Her cheeks burned, yet he saw the quiet fire in her eyes and his pulse picked up. She tipped her face up to his, her arms hanging by her side, her hands clenched into fists, determined. ‘Yes.’
He moved closer, suddenly needing to eradicate the distance between them, now she was giving him permission to do so, and he stared down at her. He brought his hand up to hold her jaw.
‘You are certain? You are not just saying this because you think this is what you have to do?’
He saw her throat work. She ran her tongue over her beautiful lips and shook her head. ‘No. I want this. I want you. But…’ She glanced towards the door.
‘No one comes in here.’
‘Then please, Edward. Kiss me.’
Their bodies were a breath apart and now that she’d uttered those words, he couldn’t resist any longer. It was all he’d thought about in days. He took her face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks.
‘You have nothing to be afraid of.’
He lowered his head, capturing her lips with his, and he kissed her slowly, carefully, testing her, trying to keep his control. He needed to know she meant it—that she wanted to do this with him again.
He waited for her to pull back, to push him away, to say she’d changed her mind, but instead her lips parted in surrender, opening her mouth to accept the gentle caress of his tongue.
Incredibly, she pressed herself closer towards him, her breasts brushing against his chest. Satisfaction rushed through him as she allowed him to explore the silky softness of her mouth.
They shared a mutual shiver as he pressed his tongue inside, but still she didn’t pull back.
And when her hands came up to hold on to his shoulders, telling him she wanted more, he drew her head closer, deepening the kiss.
It was explosive. Passion erupted inside him, and his hands came down to haul her body fully against him.
Her frantic fingers delved into his hair, and he had never felt need like it.
She was like fire in his hands and his body reacted with force.
He couldn’t hold back any longer, even though it meant risking everything. His sanity.