Page 34 of A Lady of Means
When they madeit inside Devyn’s foyer, Devyn kissed her like a dying man seeing the shore after months at sea.They were kisses Moria wished she’d saved just for this man.But then again, it took a counterfeit to help a person to spot the real thing.
When she looked back now, she saw the differences.Pity she hadn’t seen them before the differences had ruined her.But ruination wasn’t her greatest offense or highest pain.Only two mothers, hers and Marcus’, had known about that, and her mother had taken the secret to the grave.
Moria could still picture the burning bronze of her mother’s determined eyes, every time she was asked of her time, her good opinion, her company, her hand, in the years hence.
But now, when the Captain took her coat and hat, a worn callous on his thumb brushed over her skin, and her insides clenched at the subtle but heated contact.There wasn’t a tawdriness or a secret possessiveness in that touch, but an open affection.He’d waited for her.He had all but begged to love her in public, and she’d been the one holding back.Until now.
She brushed her fingers over his arm.He led her in the direction of the dining room and let her enter first.
“Och!You’re home early, Winter!I’ll grab a plate for ye, then.”Called a shirtless figure from the kitchen with his back turned.She recognized the same brogue and red hair from the man at the inn, he’d also been at the ball.
Devyn called back, “Grab two, and put on a shirt, you brute.”
When the other man turned around, he almost dropped the serving spoon he was holding.
“Ye might ‘ave given a mate some warnin’” he said, and if a man as tall and broad as he could blush, Moria was sure he came as close as he possibly could.
He handed Devyn what looked to be a crocheted potholder and excused himself.
Within a few moments, Moria was party to the weirdest and most enjoyable meal of her life.
She was seated at a scarred table in the most comfortable chair, across from a man who looked at her like he was contemplating making her his next course, and his roommate who had a filthy mouth and a quick sense of humor, eating the most delicious and comforting fare.Devyn’s company was something quickly becoming more familiar and earnest than she wanted to admit and she didn’t want to leave.
When he stood from the table and took her hand, his friend said, “As your chaperone, I’d prefer the two of you stay to the common rooms,” in his most serious of tones.
Devyn shot him a look.And then Calum’s boots retreated from the room while she was still standing, staring at Devyn.He gestured toward a divan for her to sit, but she couldn’t move.The breadth of his shoulders and his height made a perfectly adequate-sized sitting room feel smaller.She swallowed a lump in her throat.She needed something to do with her hands, they wanted to touch him so desperately.Or was it simply that he had the kind of body, like some kind of lovingly hewn sculpture, that demanded appraisal and appreciation?
When she didn’t take his invitation to sit, he stepped closer.Calloused fingers brushed her own.They felt so small in his grasp.
“Come here,” he said, taking her hand, leading her to a wooden bench in front of a pianoforte in a corner.He sat down, pulled her beside him.She liked being the one who told others what to do, where to go, where to sit, what to wear, but she found that following him and letting him lead didn’t cost her anything, and gave her reassurance in return.
The bench groaned under his weight, he had to place one leg off the edge to make room for her.He was so close, she felt the scrape of his clothes and his body everywhere.A solid shoulder was close enough that she could lean her head on it.He had the kind of strength she could lean into, and he’d hold her upright.
But he was taking a small pair of glasses from a shirt pocket, unfolding them, wiping them on his shirt, and placing them on his face.A piece of music appeared in front of them.
He turned to look at her when a small laugh flew out of her.
“Is there…something wrong?”he asked, lips twitching, one brow elevated.
“A man as large and lovely as you…in a pair of spectacles.How do you continue to get more adorable?And how am I supposed to sit here and fumble through the notes with you so close?”
There was only affection in his laugh, so much affection, his laugh felt like a caress.If his affection was in his laugh, hers must surely be in her eyes.
“God, woman, the things you say,” he said, punctuated with a capable hand wrapped around her jaw.
“And if I said that I’d like you to come to the country to meet my family?”
A finger caressed the soft skin of her cheek.“I think you already know the answer to that.”
She raised her brows, she needed to hear him say it, she couldn’t handle subtleties and half answers, not after Marcus.
“Your vicar friend visited me yesterday.We’ve worked out a plan.”
For a moment, Moria didn’t have words for what this answer did to her, she just kissed the palm of his hand.“I look forward to you getting to know the ones that make me who I am, in the place where I am most my genuine self, rather than a…facade, a rehearsed performance of what I’m expected to be.”
“No more solo performances, not with me,” he shook his head and Moria felt like she was tumbling, floating suspended in the celestial pull of those eyes of his.
“Do you know this song?”he gestured with his head in the direction of the sheet music on the piano.She had memorized a repertoire of songs to perform in company, to impress the other sex, they all evaporated from her head the moment his thumb skated over her bottom lip.There was silence, but no need to fill it.
