Heart of Gold (A Gold Rush Romance) (7 page)

The air around her seemed to warm and thicken until it was difficult to breathe. She had wanted children. So very much. But things did not go as she had planned, and she faced the consequences of that every day. She answered, her words slow and halting. “I… have not found the right man with whom to have them, I suppose.” Truer words were never spoken.

The way his eyes bore into her made her feel naked, vulnerable. The air was still thick and tight in her throat. She could feel his thoughts emanating from him as if they raked across her skin.

If she were smart, she would get up and ask to be taken home. It was not a good idea to be around this man any more than necessary. Especially when they were alone and he was staring at her like that. Even just going to check on Joe would be a valid excuse to escape his sensual scrutiny of her face and body. Despite her clear escape routes, though, she took none of them.

She liked the way he was looking at her, if she was honest. It sent pleasant trills of sensation through her body, warming a spot low in her belly. She pushed aside the worries and fears, if even for only a few moments, and allowed the pleasure of the moment to fill her. Their eyes locked, and she studied the mix of blues, losing herself in them. The silence between them stretched, curling around them.

She was allowed to enjoy the rush of feelings, she decided, so long as she never forgot herself or the lessons she had learned all those years ago. There was nothing wrong with enjoying oneself if one did not let it get out of hand.

She knew she was lying to herself, playing with fire, but she gladly ignored the truth, in the same way she often convinced herself that if she read for a half hour, she would then spend hours grading compositions, despite knowing that the compositions would sit untouched the rest of the evening. This was a far better guilty pleasure than a few hours’ reading.

After what must have been ages, he finally spoke. “I like you, Miss Crenshaw. You are a very interesting woman.”

His tone was light, but his voice had a deep and husky quality that had not been there before. It was impossible to accept what he said as a friendly compliment—he meant much more, and they both knew it.

She broke the eye contact, looking down at her uneaten meal. She picked up her fork, even though her body was demanding plenty of things, none of which was food. She wondered what he would do if she walked around the table and kissed him, this time a long, lingering, carnal kiss.

She shoved a large bite of chicken into her mouth to distract her mind and busy her mouth. Apparently it was too large, though, because it lodged in the back of her throat, making her choke for a moment. To her chagrin, she found herself sitting in front of this man she was just considering kissing, coughing and spluttering uncontrollably.

Well, at least it solved the problem of him being attracted to her, she thought, frustrated, as she tried to stop the coughing fit. That was when his hand pressed against her back, warm and soothing.

She jumped and nearly began choking again. At some point during her brief attack, he had moved around the table and was now sitting next to her, one hand offering her a glass of water as the other rubbed the spot between her shoulders.

“Here,” he said, nodding at the proffered liquid.

She grabbed it and sipped until her cough diminished. She was thankful for his kindness, embarrassed about how silly she must have looked, and very aware of the heat spreading from his hand across her back and throughout the rest of her body.

It was too much. She put her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands, sighing. “I think I should go.”

“But I don’t want you to go.”

His voice, low and so close to her ear she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, made goose bumps rise on her arms. She dropped her hands and turned to look at him, her heart pounding furiously.

His face was just inches from hers, his blue eyes dark and focused on her as if he was looking inside her mind. She held her breath, waiting, hoping he would try to kiss her again, willing him to.

Before he could do so, though, she leaned in of her own accord, softly brushing her lips against his, making fire rush through her veins. The action was as much a surprise to her as the first touch of their lips on the top of the stairs had been, only this time she was the one who had initiated it. He responded instantly, deepening the kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as his hand rubbed along her jawline, cupping her neck.

She reveled in the feel of his mouth against hers, nearly trembling from the sensations that gripped her body. She wrapped her arm around his neck, pressing even harder against him, allowing her tongue to explore, small explosions of passion blasting through her with each touch of hers against his.

The fingers of one of his hands curled around the back of her neck as the other worked its way down her neck, drifting slowly along her collarbone and cupping one breast. She realized what was happening and where this could lead, and the danger of the situation screamed into her mind, forcing Alice to listen, however little she wanted to. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes sprung open and she pulled away and stood up, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste.

What was she thinking? She could lose her employment if anyone found out she had done anything remotely close to this, not to mention losing her heart and her self-respect, which would both take much longer to regain. She needed to get out of the presence of this man, and her reluctance to do so was the strongest reason that it was so important.

Alice took a deep, shaky breath. She had known she was playing with fire, and the kiss had only made it more clear how very dangerous that was. And if she waited another minute, she feared she would find herself scorched from it. “Thomas—Mr. Lancaster—I think it is best if I leave. Now.”

The smile that had started when she said his name disappeared as he heard the rest of the sentence. He wrinkled his brow, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him and smooth it out again. But she stood her ground, although she had to grab the back of the chair for support in order to do so.

He seemed confused, but he nodded and stood up without speaking. Her heart twisted as she waited for him to say something angry, to show annoyance, but he simply accepted her words without question, despite the fact that she was the one who initiated the kiss. She almost wished he would argue with her. Instead, he said, “I shall get the buggy ready.”

She followed as he walked to the door, wanting to say something but with no idea what. She was even more dumbfounded, however, when he opened the door, froze for a moment, then started laughing in rich loud notes that rolled over her pleasantly. The response was so unexpected, she could not react except to stare at him.

He looked back at her, grinning, and announced that it was raining.

She could see it was raining—they often had sudden showers in May and it was to be expected—but did not understand his humor until he shrugged and continued. “The buggy has no top, and there is no carriage on the property. We have no choice but to wait until the weather clears.”

She wanted to both groan and jump for joy. Instead, she stood and looked at the spring rain dropping from the sky in thick ropes. No, she would not be going anywhere, at least for a short while.

They looked at each other for a long time as the sound of the pattering rain drifted through the still-open door. His face was split into a wide, nearly triumphant, grin, but her heart was still pounding with near-panic at what had happened only a few moments before.

When she watched him, though, she could not stop the edges of her lips from curving upwards the slightest amount and some of the tension in her shoulders from disappearing. There was no help for it. His smile was so warm, so relieved, she had no choice but to catch his mood, if only a little.

He shrugged again. “There’s no point standing here. Shall we go back to dinner?”

Here was a chance to allow some space between them, regardless of how little she actually wanted that space. “I am not hungry, thank you, but you should eat. I can occupy myself in the sitting room.”

She turned away from him and the pouring rain and went into the nearby room, taking the same spot she had occupied when Mrs. Leach was present—the far end of the couch. She was happy to have a chance to create distance between them. When he was too close she had a difficult time thinking, and it was high time to start mulling over her own behavior. She was still in shock at what she had done and needed an opportunity to reconstruct the walls around her heart—they had taken some heavy blows throughout the evening and were crumbling fast.

But she did not get her wish for privacy. Instead of going back into the dining room, or even sitting in his chair across the room, he took the spot beside her on the couch. So close she could smell him, a musky aroma that was completely male. It clouded her mind, and it bothered her how delighted her body was about his choice. It made it much more difficult to keep herself in control.

She endeavored to ignore him, occupying herself by picking up a nearby book, but her mind was so focused on him that she was unable to read even the title on the cover. He turned his body so he was facing her on the small piece of furniture, so close that she could sense him without looking.

He said, “I think we should talk about that kiss.”

Damn. He was direct. Why did he have quite so many admirable qualities? Couldn’t he be a little less perfect?

She moved so she was facing him, their knees touching slightly, something her entire being was very aware of. She tried to focus on anything else, but everything in front of her was him: his eyes, his delicious mouth with that nearly-constant hint of a smile, that chest…

She brought her attention back up to his face, focusing her attention on his right eyebrow. It was certainly safer than where her eyes had been drifting, though he did have very nice eyebrows, she noticed.

She shook her head. She really needed to pull this together.

“Alice?”

His voice woke her from her thoughts and she realized just how long she had been sitting there without responding. Stay in control. That was her top priority. In her most matter-of-fact attitude, she said, “Yes, sorry. The kiss. It was a terrible thing for me to do and will never happen again.”

She tried to be unemotional, but watching his expression fall, seeing how downcast he became, was too much. She softened a little. It would be best to tell the truth, or at least a portion of it. “It was wonderful, but I must keep my situation as a teacher here. There are rules that I need to follow: no dating, no marriage, no kissing. There is no other option if I want to keep my employment.”

“But you enjoyed it? If those rules were not in place, you would kiss me again?”

She sighed, trying to avoid his piercing gaze. She was not inclined to admit how much she had liked it and how much she wanted to lean forward once again and let herself go; her body was still reacting to the touch of his lips, leaving an empty, hungry ache, and she doubted she would be able to get the images it created out of her head in the near future. There was more holding her back than just those rules, of course, but it would be too much to explain. She nodded.

He shifted a little and suddenly he was right beside her, his leg pressing up against hers, his mouth bare centimeters from her lips, his fingers tracing her hairline beside her temple. “Well,” he breathed, “If you decide to change professions, ever, at any time, come here the moment you give notice.”

Before she could react, he was standing and walking to the dining room. He called out over his shoulder, “If I am not allowed to kiss you again, it will be safer at the dinner table. Something that heavy in the way will probably be able to keep me at bay, even if you continue to be this fascinating.”

Thomas sat down at the large wooden table still laden with dinner and looked at the food in front of him with something near disgust. His stomach was roiling not unpleasantly with all the emotions that had arisen in her presence, and trying to force food down his throat would be impossible.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do at that moment, and eating was most definitely not it. In fact, he had barely been able to control himself on the couch, his body so close to hers that he had needed to depart from the room in order to conceal his body’s reaction to her. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down, and not for the first time that evening. Why had he tortured himself like that?

Because she was wonderful and he meant every word he had said. And he wanted her to know it, too.

He wanted nothing more than to go back in the other room and kiss her again. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He couldn’t imagine just leaving it at that. The quick one on the stairs had been bad enough, but this was so much more.

If that was what she wanted, though, then he had no choice.

Except he knew that was not what she wanted. She had kissed him, leaned in to him. In fact, her profession was the only thing between them. That and the fact that they had only known each other a short time, but the latter could be easily remedied and didn’t matter all that much out here in the West. People got married despite hardly knowing the other’s name all the time, and they often were not even that attracted to one another. They were already a step closer to a successful marriage than that.