Page 27 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
In a day or so, she would leave this cottage and return to the real world, outside of this strange interlude. When she and William met in the future, they would have to pretend this had never happened. In fact, they would have to return to their aloof relationship as Mrs. Brown and Mr. Jackson, their only commonality being that they each owned a business on Market Street. This entire evening would be washed away as if it had never happened.
This realization was unexpectedly … desolate. She liked the blacksmith, especially since he had relaxed his grim mood and revealed some of his struggles.
Many women in this town coveted William for his handsome form and successful livelihood. Yet Caroline knew something else about him. She was the only woman in Chatternwell aware he had injured himself while secretly helping the old widow next door by repairing her roof on Christmas Eve.
He was an honorable man, and she had to admit their earlier conversation was thrilling, when he had confessed that she had influenced his thoughts and lightened some undisclosed burden he had been carrying. The shift in his mood was palpable, and she was apparently the cause of it.
The thought of gathering her things to walk out the door was rather disheartening.
Work!
Caroline drew a deep breath, slightly mollified at the reminder of what would take the place of this increasingly intimate connection she was forming with William.
Work will keep your mind from wandering about!
She nodded to herself. Close relationships were not permitted. This was an aberration, a freak occurrence. Once this holiday was over, so too would be this strange bond they had formed over the course of the night. Work would distract her from any yearnings that might disturb her thoughts.
As she reached this conclusion, feeling better for having a plan to get past these unprecedented events, Caroline realized that William’s eyes were open. He was staring at her with the oddest expression. Was it … admiration?
Caroline sat up. “Do you need anything, William?”
He licked his lips to moisten them, then spoke in a low voice. “Would you check my ankle?”
“Of course!” She swung her feet to the floor and bounced up, quickly navigating the room to light a candle before sitting on the low table. She pulled his blanket up to reveal his ankle in the low light, then gently felt around.
“It seems considerably less swollen. Shall I replace the poultice?”
William shook his head, reaching out a hand to take hold of the edge of her wrap. Caroline’s mouth went dry as her gaze dropped to his powerful, bronzed hand. She noticed with fascination the dusting of black hair on the back of his hand as awareness arrowed to her loins to thicken and pool.
“You are an extraordinary young woman, Caroline Brown.” His voice was husky, his eyes emanating heat to reflect the coiling in her lower belly.
“I … am?” she croaked out before swallowing hard, tension thrumming between them, their gazes locked.
“And very beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever beheld.”
Caroline swallowed hard again. “That is not possible. What of Miss Jolie, the daughter of Sir Walter?”
His lips quirked in amusement. “I am not well acquainted with Miss Jolie, but she has never turned my head. You, on the other hand, have refused to leave my head since we met.”
At this revelation, Caroline blinked. “You have been thinking … about me?”
“Aye” was his only response as he continued to finger the wrap between his thumb and forefinger. Desire coursed through her veins. Caroline was tempted to fall forward, only holding herself back by sheer force of will as she focused on his lips and relived their kiss from earlier that night. Her skin still tingled from the scrape of his beard.
William drew a deep breath, and then reluctantly released the fabric to drop his hand to the settee. “If you wish to remain a maiden, you shall have to walk away now, sunshine.”
Crushing disappointment overcame her. Her lips formed words without thought. “I am … not … a maiden.”
Her shameful whisper was as loud as a shout, with no nocturnal sounds other than the crackling fire to disguise her words. Caroline clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay.
Why would you tell him that?
William stared at her, then slowly frowned in the dim flicker of the candlelight. “You are widowed? I thought Mrs. Brown was an honorific. How did you not inform me of this before now?”
Caroline flushed. The heat raced across her skin, and she feared her mortification would singe the roots of her hair.
“Nay … I am …” Her courage failed. For several thick seconds, she could not speak past the lump in her throat. “I am not extraordinary, William. I … I am a fallen woman!” she proclaimed shrilly into the darkness, barely able to breathe as she realized she had admitted the truth out loud.
Clapping a hand over her mouth once more, distressed that she had done it. Destroyed their burgeoning affection. She had wanted to prolong their shared intimacy, but her impulsive words had driven a permanent wedge between them. There had been a wish to share herself, but now her thoughtless declaration would cause him to lose his regard and she would return to her isolation. If she was fortunate, he would keep her secret.
