Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) (12 page)

She bit her lip, determined not to admit that she did as well. Nor would she inquire as to what bothered him. They were here to enjoy the museum, not each other’s company.

Yet her mother’s soft spoken voice whispered in her mind.
Be kind. You haven’t walked in his shoes
.

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” She glanced at the arm he offered her, hesitating before placing her hand on it. Touching him for any reason seemed a poor idea. Her emotions were already tangled enough.

“Unfortunately it is. I just have to hope it will solve itself.”

She turned his answer over in her mind, wondering if she should do the same. She’d never been one to live on hope. A course of action seemed a better plan.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She looked up in surprise. “Nothing. Why?”

“I can practically see the mechanisms spinning behind your eyes. You’re definitely thinking something.”

“I know nothing of your problem, so I have nothing to offer you.”

“Yes, you do. Go ahead and say it.”

With a sigh, she decided she might as well share her thoughts, meager though they might be. “I’ve found action a sounder plan than hope. Hope seems destined to be unfulfilled.”

He stopped and brought her to a halt next to him, those blue eyes studying her as though trying to discover all her secrets. “While I agree that taking action is important, hope is as well. Without hope, what is there?”

“Reality might taste bitter, but disappointment can choke you.” How many times had she held hope that someone would reach out a hand to help her and her family? That Tessa would wake up one day and feel better? That circumstances would change and her family would have adequate food and shelter?

“Miss Grisby—Emma—has life been so difficult since your uncle’s...death?”

She swallowed hard. Her given name on his lips made her chest ache. What had she been thinking to share her feelings with him? “I don’t want your sympathy.” Nor his pity. That was the last thing she wanted. “I’m merely saying that God helps those who help themselves.” Though she wasn’t even certain she believed that anymore.

“True enough. But without hope, why bother to rise each day and put one foot in front of the other?”

She closed her eyes. She’d wondered the same thing so many mornings, and she told him what she told herself each day. “Because others depend on you. Because it’s expected of you. Because there is no alternative.”

“Oh, but there is. I’m certain you’ll find it.”

She opened her eyes to find him close. Too close. The outer blue ring of his eyes was a shade darker than the inside. How had she missed that before? His gaze dropped to her lips and awareness spiraled through her. “It’s time you had some fun in your life, Emma. You’re overdue for an adventure.”

Butterflies fluttered inside her. Surely that was only nervousness. “Adventure?”

Michael smiled. “You say that as if it’s a foreign concept. Life is not always easy. That’s true. But adding a few light-hearted activities makes it bearable. Interesting at the very least.”

“I’m not staying with your grandmother for entertainment purposes.”

“No, but what harm can it cause? You’re here for a fortnight, perhaps longer. I’m merely suggesting that you enjoy it. Starting now. I’m making it a priority to see that you have a few adventures.”

His change of mood made her wonder what had come over him.

Without waiting for her reply or responding to her questioning look, he took her gloved hand and tucked it beneath his elbow. “Shall we see what the museum has to offer in the form of entertainment?” For a long moment, he glanced about as though searching for something.

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “It almost feels as though someone is watching us. Do you feel it?”

She’d been so involved in him—or rather, the situation, she hadn’t noticed. But now that he mentioned it, she sensed it too.

“Never mind,” he said with a smile. “Let us tour the museum.”

They walked up the steps, and a uniformed guard opened the door for them, causing a bell to echo through the house.

“Good day to you.”

Michael inquired as to the location of the meteorite exhibit and the guard directed them to the uppermost floor. “Professor Wattle is up there somewhere. He can direct you to the exact location.”

Emma advised the maid to wait for them in the chair by the door. Then she and Michael proceeded up the stairs.

From what Emma could discern, the entire place was filled with dusty display cases and boxes with all sorts of specimens of varying sizes. It was difficult to tell in what order, if any, the items were displayed.

“Good day.” The gravelly voice floating down from the top of the stairs startled Emma.

Michael patted her hand as he looked up. “Good afternoon.”

“Thank you for visiting the museum. Is there anything in particular I can direct you toward?” The attendant looked like a retired professor with gray hair, long sideburns, and a pair of spectacles sitting slightly crooked on his nose.

“I understand you have an interesting collection of meteorites.”

“Well, it is not quite as interesting as it was two days past, but yes, we do.”

“We’re terribly sorry to hear about the unfortunate events that occurred,” Emma offered. She hesitated to discuss it in detail, uncertain how much to say.

“Indeed. The death of Mr. Bryant weighs heavy on all of us here at the museum. Quite unexpected.” He pointed to the ceiling. “The meteorites are on the upper floor, if you’d care to follow me.”

They trailed after the attendant who introduced himself as Professor Wattle. “No other visitors have ventured in today. I suppose the news of the murder has scared them away.”

“How many meteorites are in the collection?” Michael asked.

“That number is now seventeen.” He heaved a sigh as though saddened to have the number reduced.

“Are there any lunar meteorites here?”

“Not anymore. The only one we had was stolen.” Professor Wattle paused on the landing of the upper floor and turned to frown at Michael. “I say, it’s rather odd that you are asking about the lunar meteorite the day after it was stolen.”

“The article in the paper stated a lunar specimen was taken. I thought perhaps you had others.”

“Humph. Haven’t seen the article. The press can be a nuisance these days. Some news is better left amongst those it concerns.”

Emma thought he had a valid point. While the populace needed to know if their safety was in danger, spreading the details of the rarity of lunar meteorites might raise the interest of more thieves.

The professor crossed the floor to a room on the right. The wood floor creaked under their feet, giving an eerie feel to their tour.

“Not all of our specimens are organized. We are continually working on that, in between giving tours, of course.”

“I’m certain it’s a never ending task.”

“We just received a large donation of stones last week. It takes some time to sort through them, to determine what’s worthless and what should be displayed. Many of the new items end up in this room until we have the opportunity to examine and catalog them.”

Michael made his way down one of the narrow aisles. Boxes sat on tables and on the floor, some overflowing with rocks, others with only one or two inside. Very few had labels. Emma recognized many from what her uncle had shared with her, but others looked no different than ordinary rocks.

“Was the meteorite taken a new addition or had it been in the collection for some time?”

“We’d had that one several years but didn’t realize what it was until recently. We don’t even have a sketch of it though I am going to attempt to draw it from memory. Somewhere we have the measurements and weight of the thing.”

“I’d be interested in seeing that information. Can you send me a message when you have it?”

Professor Wattle seemed grateful to have someone take an interest in his lost meteorite, as if the rock had been one of his favorite children. Again, Emma looked at Michael, wondering at his acute interest in the topic.

As if aware of her curiosity, one side of his mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile. “I find all this quite fascinating.”

Somehow, she didn’t believe that was the only reason for his interest. She continued along the aisle as the men spoke, stopping to examine whatever caught her interest.

Professor Wattle left them on their own after giving a rather vague explanation of what they’d find in some of the other rooms on the top floor.

“Quite the collection, isn’t it?” Michael asked.

“It would be helpful if they were better organized. Providing an explanation of what the stones are and where they were found would make it more interesting.”

“That would certainly draw more visitors. You seem to enjoy looking at the collection.” He drew nearer to peer over her shoulder at what had caught her attention.

“As you may remember, my uncle collected and I often assisted him.” She looked up to find him far too close, studying her. “He searched for lunar meteorites prior to his death.”

“He taught you many things, didn’t he?”

“I’ve learned much more than most women my age. That knowledge is what allowed me to become a governess.”

He frowned, as though hesitant how to respond. “You must miss him.”

She swallowed hard, unwilling to admit just how much. “If it weren’t for Uncle Grisby taking the time to educate me, I’m not certain what would’ve become of us.”

“There is far more to you than your knowledge.”

She considered the idea, but dismissed it. “My education has helped me in more ways than I can count.”

“I’m certain it has, but it’s only one of your qualities. You underestimate yourself.” He reached out as though to touch her, only to draw back. “I still haven’t gotten used to your new appearance. Your transformation is amazing. How did you manage to hide all this,” he allowed his gaze to skim over the length of her, “beneath that grey dress?”

“With great care.”

“You’re clever. More than you credit yourself.”

Her heart skipped a beat as his finger grazed along her cheek. She looked up to find his gaze on her lips. She drew a breath to steady herself only to catch his scent—male, woods, and the outdoors. Something about it made her stomach flutter.

Those blue eyes studied her with a hint of heat in their depths. “You’re beautiful.”

She felt her face flush at his compliment, the warmth spreading through her whole body. In that moment as he looked at her, she felt beautiful for the first time in a very long while.

“Thank you.” The words were difficult to say, for they meant she accepted his compliment—no easy task for her.

His hand cupped her cheek and she couldn’t help but lean into it. Physical contact was rare in her world. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until now.

Slowly, he leaned forward, as though afraid he’d startle her. Anticipation filled her as his lips drew near.

“Emma, are you prepared to enjoy what life has to offer?”

She blinked, unable to answer yet unable to step away. She was firmly caught though he’d barely touched her. Dare she accept his challenge? While she knew it was wrong as he was engaged, she desperately wanted to explore this feeling. What if it never came again?

With the smallest breath, she gave him her answer by easing forward, helpless to resist him.

At last, those firm sculpted lips touched hers.

Magic.

That’s all she could think. How could two pair of lips pressed together create such magic? The sparks igniting in her body couldn’t be described as anything less.

He moved his mouth over hers as though thoroughly enjoying the taste of her. He didn’t draw her into his arms, just held her tethered to him with his hand on her cheek and his lips on hers.

Then she understood.

The choice was hers as to how much she was willing to take.

Heart pounding, she reached up to place her hand on his shoulder not quite sure where the best spot was. Then she lifted her other hand to touch the back of his head where his dark hair lay against his jacket. How she wished she didn’t wear her gloves.

All thoughts fled as she tilted her head to better fit her mouth to his. With a groan he pulled her tight against him and suddenly all felt right with her world. Her body was pressed along his length, the solid strength of him making her feel things in places that she’d never expected.

Magic indeed
.

“I do have one other meteorite you might find of interest.” The approaching voice of Professor Wattle brought reality crashing back. Michael pulled away as though coming to his senses.

His blue eyes blazed into hers, the heat there catching her breath.

“I’d be interested in any that you have to show us.” He turned to face the professor, blocking Emma from view which gave her a moment to collect herself.

Only, she needed much longer than that. How was she to protect herself when desire betrayed her?