coming. He’d hinted now and again that he would like to expand their relationship beyond friendship. He’d even deigned to kiss her the very last time she’d seen him, but while his cheeks had been flushed with color when he’d lifted his head, she was curiously unaffected by his kiss. His lips had been dry, and there was no answering spark within her breast. She’d expected fire and heat and passion and all the things she yearned for deep in her heart.Instead she’d felt…empty. And most of all a yawning disappointment.
Marriage. When she thought of marriage to William, she felt nothing—no fevered desire, no excitement. How could she marry him?
She didn’t love him, nor did she want his pity.
It would have been the easy way out—but it was not the only way out. With hard work and perseverance, she could make it on her own… they could make it, the two of them, she and Emily. But she was not so desperate as to marry a man she did not love.
“William…At present I cannot even think of marriage. I—I must think of Emily. This past year has been difficult…for both of us.” She was hedging, but she had no choice. “I pray you will understand, but…’tis too soon.”
William was silent for a moment. “I see,” he said quietly. Then: “May I come to call tomorrow afternoon?”
“I’m teaching the village children then,” she reminded him. Sunday was the only day she didn’t work at Ravenwood.
A faint coldness crept into his manner. He disapproved of her teaching the village children—he was convinced it was useless, that there was no need for them to learn such things. They’d had several discussions over it, but Olivia was not about to stop her lessons simply because he disapproved.
“Perhaps another day then.” William’s countenance was unsmiling.
Olivia inclined her head. “Perhaps,” she agreed.
With that he gave a low bow and was gone. Olivia gave a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t kissed her again. He’d said his feelings had notchanged. But Olivia knew they could never go back, just as she knew her feelings for him would never be the same. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but she had no choice—just as she had no choice but to take care of herself and Emily, to go on as they had been.
Emily turned her head when Olivia returned. “Has William gone?”
“Yes.” Olivia was anxious to change the subject. “What is that you have in your lap, love?”
Emily bit her lip. “Oh, ’tis nothing. Really.” Olivia could see she was embarrassed. “Just a scrap of lace.”
But Olivia was intrigued. She knelt by Emily’s side. “May I see?”
“Well,” Emily said tentatively, “if you insist…”
Olivia took the small square of lace from Emily’s hands and held it before her. It was then she spied the needles in Emily’s lap, half-hidden by a fold in her skirt.
She exclaimed in wonder, for the lace was fine and dainty, quite lovely indeed—and so she said, “You did this today? Emily, it’s exquisite!”
Emily flushed. “Today, yes. But really, Olivia, ’tis nothing. I was just trying to see if—if I remembered…”
Olivia shook her head in awe.
“I counted the stitches.” There was a small pause. “I’m quite surprised I remembered. ’Twas quite odd, really, for my fingers just seemed to know what to do…”
Olivia’s eyes softened. “You’ve Mama’s skill with a needle. Why—” She laughed. “—I can hardly sew a straight seam. You see why I had no desire to be a seamstress. You’ll finish it, won’t you? Itwould be quite lovely on the table against the dark wood.”
Emily’s pale face glowed with pleasure. Making the lace today had been a whim. But in truth, she’d enjoyed it immensely, for it kept her mind occupied, and far from…other matters.
She heard the rustle of clothing and knew that Olivia had arisen. Her footsteps carried her toward the kitchen. Emily could heard her bustling about there.
Her fingertips stole to her
Terry Brooks
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Iceberg Slim
Rosamond Bernier
Zoltan Istvan
Sarah J. Maas
Joseph Bonis
Kristina Riggle
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Heather Long