Chapter Twelve #2
That, at least, was the truth. Did not know what to do with all these feelings bundled up in her heart. Did not know if these feelings rushing through her could be trusted. Did not know if similar emotions raged in the heart of the man beside her…
Her gaze was pulled inexorably as though a connection already existed between them.
Minny found Henry’s eyes staring deep into her own, and there was a moment—just a moment.
A moment they shared that seemed to speak, albeit silently, of the passion they both felt but both knew they could not express. Not without scandal. Not without crossing lines of decorum. Not without irrevocably changing their lives.
Minny swallowed. “I—yes, I had the chance to do something, once. Something else.”
“Not blacksmithing?”
She shook her head.
“But you did not take it?” Henry’s voice was curious, something Minny rarely experienced in the opposite sex.
Why, the last time her brother had been truly interested in a part of her life, she thought darkly, it was because he wanted to ask her to set up this network. Information passing back and forth from—
“Why not?”
He looked at her closely, as though he could tell the answer just by sight. Minny grasped at the chance—the excuse, really—to look back at him with just such an intensity.
A graze of stubble across his cheeks. A freckle, just in the corner of his eye; unless one was very close, one would miss it. The strength of his arms, yes, but the softness of his hands. The gentleness of his lips as they tugged into a smile.
“I suppose it was something rather tempting.”
More tempting than you? Minny wanted to say. Instead, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head, the truth. “No, I almost was married.”
Henry came to an abrupt stop, halting so swiftly Minny jerked her hand out of his arm, the momentum carried her forward.
As she turned to him, ask whether he had a stone in his shoe or seen something, she realized a look of absolute horror had clouded his face.
“Married?” Henry said menacingly.
Minny nodded, unable to speak. What could she say? He had spat the word like a malediction, as though she had committed some great offense.
And truly, it would have been, if she had agreed to marry him. But she had not. And besides, that was over a year before Henry had ever—
“Married—you, married?” Henry repeated. “How—why would you even think of—you received an offer, then?”
Minny swallowed, hating how eagerly she wished to console him with the full facts. She should not think of him that way. If Mr. Henry Everleigh had wished to marry her, he’d had plenty of opportunity to ask such a question since he started learning the ways of blacksmithing in her forge.
So why was he looking at her like…like she was a possession? Like he owned her, the very thought of another man touching her an outrage?
Minny knew she should be offended. That did not prevent a spark of pleasure.
“Yes, I received an offer,” she said quietly, wishing she could have her hand tucked into his arm again. There was something so comforting about his close presence. Besides, it was cold now she was without him. “From Mr. Chapman, as it happened, but—”
“The blaggard!”
“Henry!” Minny breathed, shocked.
But not as shocked, clearly, as Henry himself. He brought a hand to his face to hide his expression for a moment, his fingers gripping at his temples as though he had received devastating news.
Why did Henry treat this as…as well, Minny could think of no other explanation other than a betrayal!
The wind blew harder, tugging at her hair. A chill rushed through her. “Henry, I—”
“From Chapman!”
“I do not see why you are so angry about it,” she shot back, her temper flaring as she knew it would. “It was before you and I ever met, and it is not as though—no promises have—I do not understand why this vexes you so heartily!”
And that was when Henry slowly lowered his hand to reveal his face.
Minny gasped. The truth was painted so clearly on his face that he had no need to speak. He cared.
That he was attracted to her was no great surprise. Minny had attempted to memorize every single moment of those two kisses they had—wrongly, of course—indulged in. Was it not possible he had done the same?
But what she saw in Henry’s expression was more than mere desire. It was longing. Affection.
“You know why,” Henry said quietly, not taking his eyes from hers. “You know exactly why.”
Minny shivered, though the movement had nothing to do with the temperature of Pathstow Common.
Oh, this was a mistake. Had she not already seen what heartbreak did to a person? Was she not fully aware of the traps of affection when unreturned, unrequited, or forbidden?
“It…it would have just been a marriage of convenience,” Minny breathed, taking a step closer to Henry as though to console him. “I could not have married him.”
“But he did ask you,” Henry said quietly. “And you could have said yes.”
“Yes, I suppose I could have done. But I did not. I…well. I wanted a little more spark in my life than Mr. Chapman could offer.”
She had somehow managed to stand far closer to Henry than she had intended. Her breasts rose heavily as she struggled for breath, and the fabric of her gown brushed up against the linen of his shirt.
Was that a moan? Was that from her throat or his?
“Minny,” Henry breathed.
Minny leaned toward him as his hand cupped her cheek. Oh, she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again, to throw all caution to the wind and to declare she loved—
“I think I should go.”
Minny lowered her head, her forehead touching his own. It was wonderful, standing here with Henry so close, his forehead pressed up against hers in a moment of such intimacy. She was astonished she was still standing.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I wish you wouldn’t.”
It was the most she could permit herself to say. She felt the shudder of aching desire in Henry before he spoke.
“I know, but I think I have to,” Henry said darkly. “Or I’ll…I won’t risk your reputation, Minny. Not out here.”
The hint of a promise of what could be shared in privacy flittered across Minny’s mind as she tried to focus on this moment, this closeness, this intimacy that would at any moment—
Henry stepped back. “You will not mind, of course, if I do not accompany you back to the forge?”
The forced stiffness in his voice was more painful than the words themselves, but Minny forced herself to smile. What she wanted, what she hoped for…it was impossible.
“Of course,” she said brightly. “I will see you tomorrow.”