Irritation drained from his face, he popped an eyebrow up and cupped her cheek. “Do you think we have time for one more…” He leaned closer, gaze hazy yet focused on her lips.
“No. But we have time for a question.”
He rolled away from her. “Very well.”
“What are we going to do about this?”
“About what? This?” He traced a single finger down the length of her arm.
Focus, Caroline.“Precisely that.”
“There are lots of things to do about it. Should I make a list? Ah, a plan perhaps.”
Yes, a plan. She had an excellent one. “We should not give in to our urges.”
The half smile that popped his dimple into existence seemed more feral than happy. It had teeth, sharp and menacing. “Wrong plan, Caro.”
“I think you’re playing with me.” He must be. “You want me to think for some reason you’ve always…” Her cheeks felt like coals. “Liked me. But you cannot have. I made you pay for sending the footman.”
“You slapped me well for it.”
“You deserved it.”
“I did.” A mask fell over his face, hiding whatever he might be feeling. “But I’m telling the truth now.”
“And why do that?” Unless to manage her in some way.Get her back to London.
One of his hands, softly curled, seemed to be everywhere on her, sliding up and down her arm in a gentle caress, tracing the high bodice of her gown, parting the curls at her nape. His gaze followed his hand, caressing her equally. Oh, the heat was high in her cheeks, and the breaths short in her chest.
“Because,” he said with a sigh, “we are married. Why not? There is much to do that will not result in a child. And… I likekissing my friend. I like helping you out of your grief. I wish you would let me.”
Always he came back to that—her grief. She missed her father, but Hawthorne was not about him. Not really.Not… mostly.If Felix knew her true mission, would he want to help her still?
Holding his gaze, trying to figure out just by the blue of his eyes, she called out, “We’ll see the applicant now, Polly.”
Felix scowled as the door eased open.
Polly appeared, a smirk curling her lips. “The two of you decent? Ah, that’s good. Thought I’d make sure.”
“You’ve the devil’s own timing, Miss Polly,” Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest, a muscle in his jaw, ticking his displeasure.
Polly smirked and opened the door wider, then the small, bird-like Mrs. Smith—wife of the bearish boor who’d been hired to fix the windows—stepped in, and she looked as if she’d been crying.
Chapter Ten
Felix kept hiseyes closed as long as possible. Perhaps if he pretended sleep, she’d appear as she had two mornings ago, and he could wake up with a kiss. His body was ready for that. And more. But his wife was keeping her distance. She’d become a shadow flitting away from him at every turn, watching him closely when they were forced to be together more than a handful of moments. Waiting for him to continue what they’d started in this folly? Waiting to run if he even flinched in her direction?
Stubborn woman.
They were good together. And if—no,when—he finally entered her body, it would likely ruin him for all others. Not that his ruination hadn’t already begun. When he’d set out to win a stranger for a wife, a leave-her-alone sort of wife, he’d not expected Caro. He’d not anticipated how his body would retain all its youthful lust for her, how time would magnify it. Time had also magnified his emotional control, though. As a lad, he’d been at risk of falling for her bodyandsoul. Now he could delight in the body and block up the soul. Look at how he was surviving this sojourn at Hawthorne.
The damn house sought to destroy him, but he was not letting it.
No reason he and Caro couldn’t have a physical relationship without risking their hearts.
Only after the parlor interlude, she wouldn’t let him close enough to argue his points!
He pushed to his feet with a groan, grateful for the clean mattress tick that had appeared in the folly two days ago. Sleeping had become slightly less agonizing since then. He had Caroline to thank for it, but when he’d tried to do so, she’d waved him off. The cobwebs had disappeared quickly, swept away while he wasn’t looking. She should have left them. They’d begun to accumulate when his parents were still alive, and generations of spiders had added to their tangle. Death and birth, a never-ending cycle. He didn’t know if it was a comfort or a torture to think of it. Perhaps it was best the cobwebs were gone.
