Chapter 9 #2
“No, of course not! I’ve never cooked for anyone like that, new dishes every day, new flavors, new ideas.
I wanted to feed you. I wanted you to remember me, and return to me.
” She choked out the last few words, not fully realizing the truth until she spoke them.
“You saw me. I don’t know how. But once you did, I couldn’t stand to be unseen by you again. It would have crushed me.”
“Sweet Bea.” He kissed her softly. “You can’t be crushed. You’re far stronger than I am. But you’re also much softer than you pretend to the world. I promise I won’t tell anyone, though.”
“You’d better not,” she warned. “Lord, how am I going to get home tonight? My chemise is in tatters, my stays are sticky with honey, and my gown is on the floor.”
“I was very much hoping you’d stay the night,” he said, almost shyly. “That is, I was actually hoping that you’d be so satisfied by my wild lovemaking that you simply couldn’t stay awake—”
She tried not to laugh but failed.
“—but I’ll settle for you simply wanting to avoid the roads at night. As a favor to me. I hate the idea of you riding back to the city in the cold.”
So did she, now that she contemplated the reality of that lonely journey, with a dark room and empty bed at the end.
“What will people say? I have to open the shop tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t. It’s Christmas tomorrow!”
“Oh.” Astonishingly, Bea had forgotten that little detail. “Your wild lovemaking drove the fact from my mind.”
He smiled. “Excellent. Stay with me, Bea. I have a lot of spare bedrooms, if you don’t want to stay in mine.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “What if I do want to stay in yours?”
Noel kissed her, then lifted her off the table, setting her on her feet. “I’ll show you, and you can decide.”
An hour later, Beatrice had decided it was a very fine bed—large, luxurious, warm, complete with an eager man—and she lay satisfied and sleepy in Noel’s arms.
“I forgive you for the cake, Bea. You gave me the perfect gift.”
“’Tis the season, I suppose.”
“I have a gift for you too.”
“Did you not just give me a gift?” she asked. “More than once, really.”
He kissed her soundly. “That was for me as well. No, this is something I’ve wanted to give you for a while.”
“A painting?” she guessed.
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“You must promise not to laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?”
“Because I’ve never given this before, and I am afraid that I’ve no idea how to do so without sounding like an idiot.”
“Well, now you must tell me,” Bea said, intrigued.
He paused, locking his gaze with hers, his expression nervous. “My heart. I love you, Bea.”
Bea’s own heart leapt in her chest. “Noel.”
“Too like a bad play, isn’t it? If I were better at this, I’d have written a poem or something in French.”
“I don’t want poetry. But do you mean it?”
“Yes. I love you,” he said. “I fell in love with you bite by bite. And I worry my love won’t be enough. You’re so driven to perfection, but who are you doing it for? I want you to be happier, darling. I want you to do what you do because you love it, not because you need to.”
“I’m quite content…” she said before stopping. No, she wasn’t. She’d built something, true, but at the cost of her own joy. She was tired, and afraid the dream would end, leaving her with nothing. She said, “I’m not sure what you want from me.”
“I want you to be with me. Eventually, I want you to marry me, sweet Bea,” he said. “I want to see you every day. I’ve been alone. So have you. It might suit some people, but not us.”
“You barely know me,” she protested. “I barely know you.”
“Details,” he said. “We know how we taste to each other. What else matters?”
“Lust is not enough for a marriage.”
“It’s more than that. You’ve been disappointed by others,” Noel said.
“I know I have to earn your trust. I’m happy to extend our courtship as long as you’d like.
We’ll get to know each other, dinner after dinner.
Polite conversation and childhood stories and little secrets spilling out bit by bit until we realize what we both already know. We’re perfect for each other.”
“You have a lot of confidence for a man who met me hardly more than six weeks ago.”
He traced her cheek and ran his finger down her neck.
“And that confidence won’t waver. Every time I see you, I’ll ask you to marry me.
And you’ll say yes soon enough. Then we’ll be together like we should be.
You’ll dream up whatever tastes come to you, and I’ll paint you like I’ve been dreaming of doing, and there won’t be any more excuses. ”
“Perhaps,” she said, though her heart agreed with every word. “To be candid, I may be falling in love with you as well. Just a bit.”
“I can work with that,” he said, kissing her nose.
“But first, I want to know what flavor you want me to use for my next challenge.”
“I haven’t given you enough?” he asked.
“Never,” she promised.
“Well, then, let’s discuss the possibilities.”
Beatrice had never had a longer, lovelier night, and when dawn came on Christmas morning, it fell sweetly on her face and his.
The End