be held and comforted, but she just couldn't rekindle her desire for intimacy. Her passion, her lust, had evaporated. The week Drew stayed was completely innocent, but there had been no chaperone to prove it.
Later she had discovered Drew had no problem with lust. Behind her back, he fornicated with the first willing woman he could find who had a promise of an inheritance. When he had snared the woman with a pregnancy, he had walked out on Fayth, leaving her to the howling wolves of gossip. And was he the one to feel the pain? Did the tongues wag about him? His betrayal felt like infidelity, hurt just as badly. But she was just as deeply shamed by her own behavior and too stunned and hurt to defend herself. Instead, she had left Baltimore.
If the Captain had married her, could she have suppressed her attraction, held back her lust? The problem with giving a man her body was that he thought he took only that, but she gave her heart. And having given hers, expected his in return. She wasn’t the cold woman she’d presented to the Captain, and that scared her to her core.
It was too easy to believe he would take care of her, like she'd believed Drew would have. She had trusted Drew with the business her father had built, with the one security her father left her. Drew had almost destroyed it. Not because of lack of business skill, but by neglect.
No, it was better for her to take care of herself. Falling in love took away independence. There was always another person to consider. And yielding to physical pleasures led to babies, a certain hazard to her career at the shop. Both only diverted her attention away from the one thing that provided security—the business.
Fayth forced her thoughts in another direction. No use remembering. She didn't know how to describe who and what she had become since Drew had betrayed her. She simply existed.
Then she had come up with the idiotic notion of proposing to the Captain. And, to her great astonishment, his refusal stung. Not just her pride, but something much deeper. The floodgates of her emotions opened, forcing her to admit to her capacity to feel. She cared. She wanted love, but didn't have enough faith to trust a man with her heart again.
With his refusal Captain O'Neill had become almost irresistible. She despised herself for the way her thoughts drifted back to him. Plenty of men would have taken her up on her offer, and then ignored the terms of the agreement. Forced themselves on her. She shuddered as she realized what she had almost opened herself up to. Yes, the Captain had proved himself a man worth having. A man noble enough to trust? The thought frightened her. She hoped she never encountered him again.
Her meal with him left her with too many disturbing questions. What made Captain O'Neill so suitable? Why would no other man do? Why did she remember the way his face dimpled when he smiled? Why did the remembrance of his stories cause her to smile? He was not as arrestingly handsome as Drew, but to her mind, every bit as enigmatic.
She backed her needle out again, snipped the threads free, and tossed the pants into her ironing pile. She hated ironing and refused to heat the iron more than once a day, especially in the warm June weather. She grabbed another pair of pants and inserted it into her machine. Her legs pumped again methodically. Who said honest seamstresses got no exercise?
She engrossed herself in her work and thoughts, trying to think of something other than the Captain. The loud clattering of the machine covered the tinkle of the bell over the door. She didn't realize a customer had come in until she heard a male voice address her.
"Miss Sheridan, good day. You look absorbed. You must love your work. Everyone should be as lucky as you and me."
Her feet froze in the middle of a pump. The machine silenced. She looked up cautiously, trying to calm the fluster his voice stirred in her. "Captain O'Neill?" She could not keep the incredulity
Later she had discovered Drew had no problem with lust. Behind her back, he fornicated with the first willing woman he could find who had a promise of an inheritance. When he had snared the woman with a pregnancy, he had walked out on Fayth, leaving her to the howling wolves of gossip. And was he the one to feel the pain? Did the tongues wag about him? His betrayal felt like infidelity, hurt just as badly. But she was just as deeply shamed by her own behavior and too stunned and hurt to defend herself. Instead, she had left Baltimore.
If the Captain had married her, could she have suppressed her attraction, held back her lust? The problem with giving a man her body was that he thought he took only that, but she gave her heart. And having given hers, expected his in return. She wasn’t the cold woman she’d presented to the Captain, and that scared her to her core.
It was too easy to believe he would take care of her, like she'd believed Drew would have. She had trusted Drew with the business her father had built, with the one security her father left her. Drew had almost destroyed it. Not because of lack of business skill, but by neglect.
No, it was better for her to take care of herself. Falling in love took away independence. There was always another person to consider. And yielding to physical pleasures led to babies, a certain hazard to her career at the shop. Both only diverted her attention away from the one thing that provided security—the business.
Fayth forced her thoughts in another direction. No use remembering. She didn't know how to describe who and what she had become since Drew had betrayed her. She simply existed.
Then she had come up with the idiotic notion of proposing to the Captain. And, to her great astonishment, his refusal stung. Not just her pride, but something much deeper. The floodgates of her emotions opened, forcing her to admit to her capacity to feel. She cared. She wanted love, but didn't have enough faith to trust a man with her heart again.
With his refusal Captain O'Neill had become almost irresistible. She despised herself for the way her thoughts drifted back to him. Plenty of men would have taken her up on her offer, and then ignored the terms of the agreement. Forced themselves on her. She shuddered as she realized what she had almost opened herself up to. Yes, the Captain had proved himself a man worth having. A man noble enough to trust? The thought frightened her. She hoped she never encountered him again.
Her meal with him left her with too many disturbing questions. What made Captain O'Neill so suitable? Why would no other man do? Why did she remember the way his face dimpled when he smiled? Why did the remembrance of his stories cause her to smile? He was not as arrestingly handsome as Drew, but to her mind, every bit as enigmatic.
She backed her needle out again, snipped the threads free, and tossed the pants into her ironing pile. She hated ironing and refused to heat the iron more than once a day, especially in the warm June weather. She grabbed another pair of pants and inserted it into her machine. Her legs pumped again methodically. Who said honest seamstresses got no exercise?
She engrossed herself in her work and thoughts, trying to think of something other than the Captain. The loud clattering of the machine covered the tinkle of the bell over the door. She didn't realize a customer had come in until she heard a male voice address her.
"Miss Sheridan, good day. You look absorbed. You must love your work. Everyone should be as lucky as you and me."
Her feet froze in the middle of a pump. The machine silenced. She looked up cautiously, trying to calm the fluster his voice stirred in her. "Captain O'Neill?" She could not keep the incredulity
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