Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope) (22 page)

But what if he’d been wrong? What if he could move on? After all, he was much older and wiser than he’d been during the war.

Even so, he was ludicrous to consider her proposal. They couldn’t have a relationship. They were worlds apart, she from the upper echelon of society and he from a simple working class family. She was atrociously rich. He had nothing, not even a home. She was accustomed to a life of opulence and pleasure. He was content with simplicity.

Then there was the tiny factor that her father would never approve. Henry Cole wanted a son-in-law with old money, like Nathaniel Winthrop III. Not a poor light keeper’s son.

The hope in Victoria’s eyes was too much. He hated to disappoint her, but he couldn’t change who he was. There was no getting around the fact that he wasn’t the right man for her. He expelled a frustrated breath and walked to the window. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared out at the beam of moonlight making a path across the water.

After a moment, the squeak of the bed told him she’d risen. She padded across the room, and her soft footsteps stopped behind him.

“Tom,” she said. “I know you’re probably thinking of all the reasons why we shouldn’t have a relationship.” She touched his back lightly, but it was enough to burn through his shirt and heat his skin.

“Like the fact that you’re still Nathaniel’s?”

“I broke off the engagement. You know that.”

“But he still thinks you’re his. He’s waiting for you.”

She slid her arms around his waist, leaned into him, and rested her face against his back. At the pressure, he closed his eyes and fought against the desire to hold her. “Being with you is so different,” she whispered. “I never, ever felt this way about Nathaniel.”

“What way?”

“Like I’m falling in love.”

She was falling in love with him? Her words poured over him. Victoria Cole was falling in love with him? How was that possible? What did she see in him?

She rubbed his arms before finding his hands and lacing her fingers through his. For a long moment, he couldn’t move. He simply wanted to stand there and imprint every detail of the moment into his memory. The warmth of her arms, the smoothness of her fingers, the pressure of her body.

“What do you feel for me?” she finally asked tentatively.

“I’m trying to sort it out.” He didn’t know how else to respond. He couldn’t lie to her and tell her he felt nothing. But if he admitted the depth of his feelings, then he might possibly take them down a path he didn’t want to traverse. He’d already compromised his work. This would make things even worse.

As if reading his mind, she spoke. “I know you gave my father your word that our arrangement would stay professional and you’re a man who lives by his principles. I respect that about you. I don’t want you to do anything that would make you loathe yourself.”

The tension in his muscles eased, and he relaxed against her. This was one of the things he loved about her, that she was perceptive and unafraid of facing difficult issues.

“So that’s why I think you should stop being my bodyguard. Then you’re free. You wouldn’t have to worry about me being your client and the implications from that.”

He’d never stop worrying about her. Even if he wasn’t her bodyguard. From the moment he’d almost lost her in the carriage-ride kidnapping, he hadn’t been able to shake the terror of losing her. If he was honest with himself, he knew he never would have brought any other client home. He wouldn’t have suffered through the experience of facing his haunted past for anyone else.

But he’d do anything for her.

And yet, could he do this? Give up his position as her bodyguard? He hesitated. “I promised your father—”

“All my father wants is for me to be happy. If I’m happy with you, he won’t object. In fact, I think he’d give us his blessing.” With that, she tightened her hold around him. His pulse picked up its pace at the thought of giving in to all the feelings that had been growing for Victoria since the first time he’d met her.

No, he told himself sternly. He couldn’t give in to
all
of the longings. If he decided to explore a possible relationship, then he would start slowly and court her properly. It didn’t matter that they were already married and had shared a few passionate moments together. She deserved more than stolen kisses. They needed time to get to know one another, to explore and test their feelings, and to determine if they were a good fit or not.

“Tom?” Her voice was hopeful.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He didn’t want to let Mr. Cole down. But he had the feeling Victoria was right. Mr. Cole coveted his daughter’s happiness. If this was what Victoria wanted, then surely it wouldn’t hurt to take the next couple of weeks to discover if they really could have a future together.

“Okay.”

She released her grip and spun him so that they were facing one another. Her features were lit with a delighted smile.

“But,” he said quickly, “we have to do things right.”

“Like how?”

“Like basing our relationship on friendship, not physical attraction.”

Her smile widened. “I like the sound of that.”

“Then if things don’t work out, you’re free to move on.”

“They will work out.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I won’t want to move on.”

A shiver of anticipation trailed up his spine, which he rapidly attempted to squelch. “I mean it, Victoria. We keep our hands off each other.”

“But we’re married.” Her sights moved to his mouth and stayed there. The desire that blazed to life in her eyes was almost his undoing. He was sure she had no idea that her longing was so readable. If she knew, she’d be embarrassed.

He took a step away from her to keep himself from crushing her in his embrace. He was certain that if he started kissing her right now in their bedroom, he would have a difficult time stopping. “At the end of this month, if we know we belong together, then we’ll have a proper wedding.”

“Very well, Mr. Cushman,” she said. “If I agree to your conditions, then you have to agree to one of mine.”

She sauntered away, so saucy, so full of life that his chest ached just watching her. When she glanced at him coyly over her shoulder, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her condition, not even if he tried.

“What?” he asked.

She kept walking until she reached the bed. “We can kiss every once in a while.” As she spoke the words, a flush moved into her cheeks.

He was glad she was on the other side of the room. If she’d been anywhere near him, he would have shown her his answer.

He tried to find his voice to speak coherently. “Only once in a great while,” he managed.

“Okay.” She turned away from him, but not before he caught her smile.

With weak knees and his heart sputtering, he collapsed backward onto the sofa so that he was staring up at the ceiling. Then he allowed himself to smile too.

V
ictoria peeked past the curtain of the studio window and finally saw Tom striding up the sandy path from the tower. His head was down against the wind that had begun to increase in ferocity as the afternoon passed. The clouds had been rolling in and growing darker by the hour.

Her heart pattered in anticipation of seeing him. With a smile, she let the curtain fall back into place.

“Tom must be coming for another break,” Zelma said, wearing a happy smile of her own.

Victoria crossed toward the door of the closet-like side room that Zelma used as an art studio. “I’ll go see if he’d like a glass of the lemonade I just squeezed.”

“You do that dear. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” Zelma dipped her brush into the palette and focused on the canvas in front of her. “Although I’m fairly certain that’s not what he’s coming up to the house to get.”

Victoria felt her cheeks heating, but she rushed into the kitchen to the pitcher and waiting glass. She poured one and garnished it with a slice of lemon on the rim.

Then she ran a hand over her outfit, smoothing away any wrinkles. She’d spent the past week remaking Ruth’s skirts. With Zelma’s help, she’d resized them and added ruffles around the bottoms and bustles to the backs, as best she could. And today she’d finally worn one. Even though the garment was better than it had been, she still felt strange and somewhat out of sorts in the plain clothes. But she had to admit, like with the cooking and baking, she’d enjoyed learning to sew much more than she’d thought she would.

She checked her reflection in the window and tucked a lose strand of hair back into the coil. After almost two weeks of having to do her own hair, she’d started experimenting with different styles and found several that were easy and rather becoming. She pinched her cheeks then hurried into the hallway and was waiting at the front door when Tom opened it.

A gust of wind blew in ahead of him and threatened to push her back with its strength. He wrestled the door closed and turned with expectation. When his gaze landed upon her, his eyes darkened and his brows slanted in that magnetic way that never failed to turn her limbs to liquid.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly breathless. She held out the glass. “I thought you might like some lemonade.”

He took it from her and drank several long gulps without shifting his attention from her, which only made her stomach turn to liquid too.

She loved when he took breaks from his work during the day. In addition to joining her and Zelma for lunch, he’d started taking a few minutes in the morning and afternoon to come back to the house. The reason for his visit was always different—to change his sweaty shirt, to get a snack or a drink, or to find a new pair of gloves. She wanted to believe those were all excuses, that he was really coming to see her. But she could never be certain. Either way, she was always impatient to see him and surprised by how much she longed to be with him when they were apart.

“How’s your afternoon going?” she asked, admiring the way the muscles in his neck and jaw rippled as he finished the drink.

He set the empty glass onto the half-moon console table near the door. Then he reached for her, his strong hands sliding up her arms possessively before winding around her waist and pulling her against his chest.

“It’s going better now,” he whispered against her ear.

She sighed and closed her eyes, pure contentment and pleasure coursing through her. She wrapped her arms around him and relished his strength. This was where she wanted to be. In fact, she’d started living for these few short moments every morning and afternoon when he’d hold her, when she’d breathe him in and listen to his heart beat, when his heat and solidness surrounded her.

He’d hold her only for a few minutes, never long enough, before pressing his lips against her crown in a hard kiss that promised so much more and made her wish he’d kiss her lips that way. But he’d always pull back and set her away before she could work up the courage to lift her face and capture his lips with hers.

His grip around her was hard and unswerving. And his lips came against her hair too soon. She wanted to cling to him and make the moment last longer, but she knew he was trying to take things slow, and she wanted to respect his wishes.

His lips were warm and his breath heavy against her head. His fingers tightened for a moment, and then he set her away from him as he usually did. She smiled and tried to pretend for herself and for him that she didn’t want more, that she was content with this tiny morsel of his affection.

He reached behind him for the doorknob. “I have to get back to work.” But his gaze lingered on her face.

“Okay. I’ll see you at dinner.” If only his dad would make Tom kiss her again.

Tom turned away from her and began to open the door. Then he stopped. “Come with me to the tower.” His voice was tight. “I want to show you something.”

Her breath caught at the invitation. All week, she’d been able to tell he was making efforts not to be alone with her. Other than their late evening talks on the sofa, he’d kept their time together out in the open and had exerted extra caution because of the undeniable attraction between them.

“Sure.” She tried to keep her tone normal. “I’ll let your mom know where I’m going.”

Of course Zelma waved her away with a smile and a knowing look. “Go have fun, dear. I’ll be fine here with my painting.”

As Victoria followed Tom down the trail to the tower, the sand swirled so that it was almost biting. The roaring of the wind and the crashing of the waves made talking impossible. When they stumbled into the tower and closed the door, the silence was eerie compared to the clamor outside. The wind howled under the doorjamb, but the only other sound was their heavy breathing.

She hadn’t yet been inside the tower. But it was similar to the ones her grandfather had worked in. Painted white bricks lined the walls, and a narrow metal staircase spiraled up with a landing every so often. The first landing had a small window that afforded enough light to guide their way.

Tom started up the steps, his boots clanking against the iron. She followed after him, and the higher they rose, the more she could feel the power of the wind swaying the structure. It was sturdy enough to withstand a great deal of weathering and battering. Even so, she held onto the rail tightly as she ascended. When they reached the top, he climbed through the hatch first and then held out his hand and helped her up.