Chapter Nine #2
He shook off that flash of melancholy and gave her a brilliant smile.
It was as beautiful as before, but she could sense the difference.
There was something too practised, as if he used that smile too often.
There was a quiet strain at the edges, like the smile of someone trying to protect himself, or maybe protect her from seeing something.
‘Who could ever want to be somewhere else but here?’ he said. ‘This is perfect! Just look at that cloud…’
He took a step forward and stumbled against the railing. Fearing he would fall, she reached out and grabbed a handful of his coat, pulling him back to her side. The touch lasted only an instant, but there was such a quiet thrill in it—not bold or loud, but deep, warm, filled with need.
It was too hard to let go of him. Her body remembered the touch even after she stepped back, like warmth that lingered in the space where sunlight turned to shadow.
‘I do seem to be making a habit of saving you from water,’ she said, and feared she sounded too breathless from the touch of him.
He watched her intently, his eyes a glowing pale blue. She saw hunger in it to echo hers, and a raw ache, a silent touch. ‘I need you with me, then, if I ever decide to go over the seas to Japan or Polynesia, like in a dream.’
For a moment, she dared to imagine what it might be like to see such places with him.
To explore and have adventures together, a story only the two of them would ever truly know: the spices in the air, the bright colours in the streets, the hum of languages they didn’t understand.
She could just picture the way he might tilt his head to take in ancient ruins; the way his eyes might glow to see a market filled with scents and sounds he’d never even imagined.
It was as if she were seeing a whole life she knew could never be hers.
‘Careful over there, you two!’ May called.
Jane turned to see May perched on a coil of rope sorting through the hamper.
May was actually a bit nervous about going on the water, but she did it for Connor.
And now Jane was grateful for the distraction from impossible daydreams. ‘You are too near the rail for my taste.’
Jane hurried over to sit beside May, studying the open hamper. ‘What delights wait for us today, then? Ooh, ham salad, strawberry tarts…’
‘You must not let Jane be a bad influence, Benedict,’ May said, unpacking salmon sandwiches. He had insisted they stop referring to him as Your Grace, but Jane could see even May had a hard time calling a duke by his first name. ‘She is an absolute daredevil, just like her brother.’
‘Oh, I think everyone could do with a little daring in their lives, Mrs O’Neill,’ Benedict said as he sat down near them. Jane tried not to look directly at him, tried not to show how she had just been dreaming of seeing new lands at his side.
‘How right you are,’ May said, waving a plate of strawberry cakes. ‘I had such dull days before I met Connor!’
‘I can’t imagine you were ever dull, Mrs O’Neill,’ he said gallantly.
‘Oh, believe me, I was!’ May flashed a bright smile at her husband, where he was manning the sails. ‘The O’Neills quite saved me. They are good at that.’ She flashed him a teasing smile. ‘They could do that for someone like… Oh, like you too.’
He smiled, but Jane could see it was the masked smile again, a quiet sadness flashing in his eyes, as if he was somewhere just out of reach, somewhere inside, a place into which only he could see.
He was so close and so far away all at once.
She longed to reach out, to understand what he was feeling without needing words, but she could never do that.
‘Tell us about Cowes, Benedict,’ she said brightly, trying to draw him back to the world with them. ‘Benedict says he’s actually met the Prince and Princess of Wales, May!’
‘Have you indeed? Fascinating!’ May sighed. Jane had known she’d be suitably distracted by a flash of royalty. ‘Is she as lovely as they say, the princess? What does she wear for the sailing?’
May unpacked the picnic the kitchen had prepared for them—chicken pie, ham sandwiches, salads, fruit tarts, cider and champagne—and they chatted about royalty, boats and voyages and gossiped about Newport society.
Connor invited Benedict to his club one day soon.
Someone asked Jane about Paul, the only shadow on the lovely day, but she laughed and brushed it aside even as she felt Benedict watching her quizzically.
After luncheon, when everyone was quieter, enjoying the sea breezes and the last of the wine, she led Benedict on a stroll around the deck to a spot where they were alone, hidden behind a large coil of rope.
‘Who is this Paul Brosnahan, then?’ he asked as they stared out over the lace-frothed waters towards the shore and the waiting mansions. ‘Is he really your suitor?’
Jane made herself laugh. Paul, a suitor?
Maybe that was what he thought of himself.
‘Not really. He was just someone I knew when I was very young, and then he went away to seek his fortune. Now that he has found it, he will find just the right wife to share it. Just as we will find the right one for you.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to think of that just now. This day has been too perfect.’
She certainly didn’t want to think about it, either—about what would happen tomorrow and the day after that. She only wanted this moment—his attention on her, the two of them alone against the world.
Slowly, so slowly she could hardly breathe waiting for it, his lips lowered towards hers.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt the heat of his kiss touch her forehead, so light and soft it made her burn even hotter.
His lips slid to the pulse that beat at her temple, and she tingled all the way to the toes of her kid boots.
Then, at last, their lips touched, once, twice, before they hardened, fell deeper.
And she was exactly where she wanted to be, just for that moment.
They stepped apart, and she found she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away from him or the glow in his sky-blue eyes, his rumpled hair. ‘Benedict…’ she whispered.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he said roughly.
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘If someone saw us…’
‘I would never hurt you, Jane,’ he said. ‘When I see you… When I touch you…’
All she could do was nod. ‘It can’t happen again.’
Yet that was all she wanted—for it to happen again and again. And that was much too dangerous for them both.