This Wicked Gift (A Carhart Series Novella) by Courtney Milan

Author:Courtney Milan [Courtney Milan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General, Victorian
ISBN: 9781622667680
Google: UMfCAwAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-07-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

WILLIAM WALKED DOWN THE HALL. He had made the matter as plain as he dared to her. She’d wanted to argue—he’d seen it in her eyes. Her words could have tied him in knots. And having to watch her deliver those arguments—having to hold his distance from her when every fiber in his being yearned toward her—had been almost impossible. But she had no way to debate straightforward gestures. He hid behind those unarguable motions now. He got his coat. He walked to the door. He opened it, and stood there in silence until she came from the kitchen.

Even then she stopped by his arm and looked up at him. Her blue eyes seemed to see right through to the contents of his soul. So what if she took the measure of that sorry item? After all, he’d set it out for her to see, a standard tattered past the point of all repair.

He walked outside, into the chill of early morning. She followed, her eyes liquid, her skin seeming to light with an incandescent glow against that mass of white fog. He wasn’t sure he could bear another fifteen minutes in her presence—but whatever depths he’d plumbed, he had not sunk so far as to send a woman alone into the maw of that dampening mist. Least of all Lavinia.

Outside, Norwich Court was a silent sea of mist. Tendrils of white curled around the gaslight on the corner and combed long, thin fingers through the tangled branches of the trees. Lavinia came up behind him. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the fog. She was mere inches away from his embrace. She’d never felt so distant.

“I rather think,” she said, “that I should be the one to decide if you’re deserving.”

He hunched his shoulders deeper and drew his coat about him. “I don’t wish to speak about this at present.”

“Not at present? Very well.”

He was surprised—and perhaps a touch disappointed—at the grace with which she accepted his pronouncement. Silence enfolded them. They walked in darkness. William counted to thirty slowly, one number for every two steps, and then she spoke again.

“How about now, then?”

He was staring straight ahead as they walked, the better to ignore her. But there wasn’t much to see on an early, foggy morning. A bakery had just come to life, the light from its windows diffusing gold through the mist. As they passed, the smell of the first baking of cinnamon-and-spice bread wafted out.

But the scent of those warm ovens was soon left behind, and there was nothing else he could focus on in the swirling fog. He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw.

“Very well,” Lavinia said. “You don’t need to say anything.”

That muscle twitched, harder.

“I shall supply both halves of the conversation. I’m rather good at that, you know.”

He had to admit, her proclamation came as no great surprise.

“Besides,” she said slyly, “you’re very handsome when you’re taciturn.”

Oh, he was not going to feel pleased. He was not going to look toward her.

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