Chapter 4 #2
She shut down her Third Eye, swallowing hard. “You’re bleeding. There’s a knife in your heart and you’re bleeding, and you don’t even notice it. Has something happened of late?”
It had been two weeks since she’d seen him last.
What had occurred in that time?
Was it his father?
His brother, Hart?
It looked like… betrayal. Or a sudden jagged rift in his soul. Or—
A horrible thought occurred.
A horrible, horrible thought.
She’d known her feelings for him were growing, and two people who worked in close proximity were bound to begin to bond together in a psychic sense. And they were both sorcerers. This couldn’t have been her doing, could it?
But if so, then the damage would have been healed with her proximity.
Unless maybe… maybe the rift was an emotional one. And maybe that wasn’t healed at all, despite the fact they were working together again.
He looked away. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“It’s not me, is it?” she whispered in horror.
Blue eyes locked upon her and her heart plummeted when she saw the flicker of doubt there, swiftly smothered by a careless shrug. “I’ll deal with it. Now…. Let’s go talk to the priest and—”
“Sterling!” This was just like him—to ignore any unresolved weaknesses within him.
“If we’re dealing with something dangerous then we cannot afford to have you wading into battle with a gaping psychic wound.
It’s virtually an invitation for a psychic entity to take a bite of you! You need to deal with this.”
“I have been trying to deal with it,” he snapped, “but you’ve made it quite clear you have no intention of talking about the issue.”
She drew back as if slapped.
The kiss.
He was referring to the kiss.
“You kissed me and then you bolted out of my life like a rabbit,” he said, advancing upon her.
“And don’t give me that codswallop about having had enough of my life and the danger within it, when you’re standing there with a bloody venatori pin in your lapel.
We both know you ran because of what happened between us. ”
Gauntlet thrown.
“I didn’t run. I was… I was….”
Anger flared in his eyes. “I thought we were friends. I thought—”
“What?”
“That we were becoming more than friends.” He took a step toward her, his shadow looming. “I’m aware that you find me attractive—”
She gasped.
“You stare, Edwina. I swear you make me climb the ladder in the library at least once a day, and I’m fairly certain it’s not because you want a book from the highest shelf. I can practically feel your gaze on my ass.”
Oh, gods. He’d realized that?
Why couldn’t she have learned a spell to tear the earth apart so it could swallow her whole?
Sterling clearly saw the flush of heat through her cheeks, because his entire demeanor changed. Gone was the handsome charmer. Gone was the rascal, the wastrel. Instead, there was a predatory intensity she’d only ever seen when he was on the hunt.
“You do,” he growled. “You want me. Admit it. You wanted to kiss me. And then you bloody tucked tail and ran.”
Anger got the better of her. It was different for her.
Why couldn’t he see that? “Fine. Yes, I’m attracted to you.
Any woman with eyes is attracted to you.
But you and I are never meant to be, and I know that.
I had a moment of sheer stupidity. I was emotional.
I was overwrought. The library was still burning.
And I’m sorry that I took that out on you. I’m sorry that—”
“Don’t you dare tell me that you’re sorry that you kissed me,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare.”
Edwina’s chest rose and fell. What did he want of her?
Did he want to humiliate her further?
“Tell me the truth. Did you enjoy it?” And then he hesitated. “You kissed me first.”
And then she’d fled, and practically thrown her resignation letter in his lap the following day.
Oh, gods. It suddenly occurred to her that she was being entirely unfair about this situation. Irregardless of his… well, his success with women… it had to be playing on his mind. And he’d always treated her fairly. Perhaps he worried that he’d overstepped the bounds of their employment contract.
It was so utterly humiliating.
But she owed him the truth.
“Yes, I enjoyed it,” she whispered, her cheeks burning. “You were… more than proficient. Of course, you were, you’ve kissed hundreds of women in your time. And I’m sorry for this muddle. I should never have kissed you. I put you in an awkward position and I’m sorry and—”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away from her. “For fuck’s sake.”
“What?”
He turned back to her, anger painted across his face. “Don’t you dare lecture me on my language right now. For fuck’s sake, Edwina. I have not kissed hundreds of women. I’ve been as bloody celibate as a monk for the past three years!”
“I have met some of your past mistresses,” she pointed out sharply. “And I do answer your correspondence.”
“Past,” he shot back. “Yes, past. I won’t pretend I haven’t had an adventurous youth. That all changed the second you walked through my door.”
“That opera singer was draped all over you barely a month ago!”
“We were trying to get answers to Mary Solomon’s death,” he bit back, “and Vanessa was her friend. I couldn’t exactly tell her to get her hands off me when I was questioning her.
And she was crying. I could hardly dump her on someone else’s lap when she was so distraught about finding Mary’s body.
But nothing happened. Nothing will ever happen with someone else. ”
Each word was like a hammer strike to her soul. “What are you trying to say?”
“I am saying that you walked into my life three years ago and turned it upside bloody down. I have spent the past three years trying not to put my hands on you, trying not to make you feel uncomfortable, trying… trying to get you out of my head.” His voice rose.
“And then you kissed me and for a second I had hope…. And the next thing I know you’re trying to resign—”
The words were coming at her like little lobbed grenades. She didn’t know what to do with them, except— “I did resign!”
“You ran,” he accused. “You’re a bloody coward.”
“I am not a coward!”
“Did you want me to kiss you?” he yelled. “Did you enjoy it? Do you want me? Damn it, Edwina. They’re not difficult questions.”
She gaped at him.
Do you want me?
It was such a simple question, and yet, not simple at all.
I’ve spent three years trying not to want you.
Three years locking away her feelings so deep inside her that she could never be hurt.
And she’d failed.
Sterling was the lodestone in her life, and no matter what she did she kept being drawn back to him.
But he was Sterling Anthony Reed, the second son of the Duke of Clarenvale. And no matter how much she… cared for him… she didn’t dare fall into an affair with him.
Because to let herself love him was to set into place the steady spiral into heartbreak.
This didn’t end in happiness. This ended with Edwina having her heart and reputation shattered, her friendship with him utterly destroyed. He’d weather any kind of storm—he was a man, with all the entitlements that went with that.
And she was Edwina.
Her aunt was dead now. Her mother long gone. Her father merely a footnote in the history of her making. She had no kin, no fortune, nothing more than the reputation she had doggedly forged, and the magic she’d worked so hard to master.
“You don’t understand.” Her fists balled. “I can’t want you. I can’t kiss you. I can’t… I can’t be what you want me to be.”
His face tightened. “I’ve never wanted you to be anything other than who you are.”
“It’s not the who so much as the what,” she retorted.
Secretary? Friend? Or mistress?
All three of them chafed in some ways, but it was that last one that was dangerous.
“My lord!” Someone yelled, cutting through the tension. “My lord!”
The look Sterling shot the door of the vault was a dangerous one. It said this-had-better-be-bloody-important-or-I’m-going-to-kill-someone.
“What?” he demanded, striding to the door and jerking it all the way open.
The Willoughby’s butler slid to a halt, gasping for breath. “My lord you must come… quickly! It’s Lady Willoughby! She’s taken… another turn!”