Chapter Four
Hours after her encounter with the visitor in the street, Cora bustled through the tavern, wishing she had decided to return home instead of agreeing to work late.
Her gaze drifted over the last remaining patrons.
A couple seated at a corner table. Old Nate, who nursed a tankard of ale at the bar, and the stranger who haunted her dreams.
A year had passed, and they still had not exchanged pleasantries, let alone names.
She purposely chose to keep him in suspense, although she knew he had gathered her name from his time spent in silent observation.
Everyone knew her in the village. But he never presumed to breach that barrier of polite pleasantries.
After their conversation this afternoon, she’d glimpsed the man beneath the polished confidence. Seen him writhe with discomfort at her questions. A part of her longed to probe further, to see what messy layers she could uncover.
With a deep breath, she gathered her courage and crossed the room bearing two glasses of whisky.
He sat back, his gaze wary as she approached his table and sat down.
“I thought you were ignoring me,” he stated, accepting her offering. His fingertips brushed hers as she relinquished the glass.
“Politely maintaining my distance.” Cora lifted the glass.
“Same thing.” He saluted her in return and drank the whisky. Her body pulsed at the pull of attraction as she watched his throat work, the muscles in his neck straining just beneath the starched collar. What she wouldn’t give to trace his pulse point with her mouth—
Cora wrinkled her nose and shook her head, clearing the unwarranted direction of her thoughts.
“Does my presence repulse you?” he asked, an amused smile on his lips.
“No, my curiosity does.”
“‘Curiosity’?” He chuckled and the sound shot a bolt of lust through her very soul. “I must admit I am relieved to hear I am not the only one who suffers from the affliction.”
“Then allow us to remedy it.” Cora sipped her whisky. “And boldly too. I have no use for pleasantries.”
“May I call you ‘Cora’?” he asked, his green eyes glinting like emeralds in the lantern light.
“It is my name, although I should have you address me properly.” She paused. “And your name?”
“Phillip.” He dropped his gaze briefly, returning it to hers before taking a drink.
She noted the same discomfort from their earlier conversation and shifted comfortably into her seat. Her fingers tapped the side of the glass. “A regal name.”
“It is.” Phillip cleared his throat. “How long were you married?”
Cora blinked in surprise but then remembered she’d instructed him to embrace the bold. “Eleven years. Been a widow for the last fifteen.”
“Do you have a lover?” With each question, he grew more daring.
“If I had a lover, he would be a man of age and experience.” She held his gaze with an intensity that stripped away pretense. “I have no use for youth.”
“I believe you have mentioned that previously.” He remained steadfast, unblinking in her assertion. “What makes you believe it to be true?”
“Younger men admire. They do not endure.” She sighed. “They are easily sated and just as quickly forgotten.”
“You seem quite convinced.”
“I have seen much in my time. Enough to instill a natural wariness when a handsome and charming young man enters the village and returns every month without fail in an attempt to woo me into complacency.”
“And have my efforts succeeded?” Phillip asked, his effervescent charm returning with a coy smile.
“You have certainly given me something to consider, and I am flattered, truly.” Cora shook her head. “But I fear I have no place in my life for a dalliance with a younger man who could easily be my son.”
“I value your honesty.” Phillip rested his elbows on the table, bringing him close enough that she could make out the gold flecks in his eyes surrounding the dark pupils.
“I am a patient man, Cora. If I must return each month for a thousand years, I will slowly chip at the stone wall surrounding your heart.”
“Such romantic nonsense. No one could possibly live for a thousand years,” Cora teased.
He remained earnest, his gaze unwavering. “My intention is not to make you a conquest, but to follow this connection binding us to its natural conclusion.”
Cora sucked in a breath at the sincerity in his voice and the determination etched on his handsome face.
“One word from your lips, sweet Cora.” His voice dipped dangerously low, the tenor setting her heart aflutter. “That is all I need to hear to seal my fate.”
“We are strangers.” Cora could barely force the words from her lips. Deep in her heart, she acknowledged the same pull drawing her toward him, but sense demanded restraint. “This is madness.”
In the distance, a rumble of thunder shook the night.
“A madness I cannot deny.” He rose to his feet and pulled on his hat. “I shall return tomorrow.”
Cora stumbled over her thoughts, unable to form a response. Lost in her own mind, she finished her duties and within an hour, she was astride her gelding, headed for the small cottage she called home.
Beyond the mountains, a flash of lightning illuminated the peaks as it pierced the midnight sky. Drops of rain pelted her face just as she’d reached her door.
When the torrents unleashed from the heavens, Cora allowed the tears to fall. Anguish tore at her soul. She could not concede. Her heart could not bear it.
But it was already too late. Phillip had succeeded, and she knew surrender would ruin them both.