It's Always Been You

by Victoria Dahl

She should go. She was looking forward to lighting a fire in the stove and working on her mending, just enjoying her small parlor with its yellowing walls and ragged furniture. She’d received some excellent Madeira in trade and planned to have a glass to help warm her before she retired to her bed, a bed the perfect size for her and her alone. But for now, she was content to sit here, to shiver and breathe.

  Time stretched by, her nose began to numb. Taking a deep breath, she drew in the cold and looked slowly around, memorizing the sight of the light silver veil of falling snow, setting it carefully in her mind before rising to start her stroll home.

  She’d reached a peaceful place again. A week ago she’d been frantic. All the control she’d exerted over her life had threatened to crumble and leave her soul naked to the elements. Over and over again, she’d imagined how different life would’ve been if she hadn’t been sent to Ceylon. Or even if she’d only known Aidan hadn’t abandoned her. She could’ve escaped if there had been someone to run to. If she’d had hope, she would’ve found a way to make her way back to him. But she had stayed. Stayed and faded.

  Oh, it had eaten at her heart for long hours—the thought of what could have been. But after that first endless night of trembling hands and raw emotions, she’d forced herself to calm. She was fine now. Just fine.

  Avoiding the front door—and Mr. Wilson’s prying eyes—Kate passed through the mouth of the alley, counting on the brightness of the snow for visibility. A few feet in, a prickle of unease swept over her skin, but she ignored it. These days found her curiously unafraid of physical danger. She’d sailed alone all the way from Ceylon with little thought for her safety. The leering looks of the sailors had been easily quelled by cold stares of her own. The men seemed able to sense her impervious contempt of them, and they’d left her alone. It was almost like magic, this fearlessness. A strange magic though, since it had failed her in the face of Aidan York.

  “Kate.”

  She jumped, and for a moment she fell into a well of fear. It was him, her stepson, come to confess his awful love for her again. Come to threaten her with his awful lies. She slid a foot back, preparing to race away.

  “Kate, it’s me.”

  Finally, she registered the familiar voice. Aidan. Not Gerard. A chill shivered through her body, setting her hair on end as she searched the shadows for Aidan. He finally took a step forward, revealing himself.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “I have something for you.”

  She took three shallow breaths, then shook her head in exasperation. “Aidan, you can’t be here. You have to go.”

  His forehead furrowed into a frown as he glanced around with concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “Ha! Yes, there’s something wrong.”

  Obviously worried, he stepped toward her as if to take her arm, but she pulled quickly back and turned to the door. Her mind turned frantically, trying to find a way to make him go and stay gone, but her brain refused to offer a solution. With no idea what to do, she found herself moving through the door with him close on her heels. Clutching the folds of her cloak around her as protection, she turned and met his gaze. His eyes were expectant, his mouth grim and beautiful.

  Trying to ignore the sudden silence between them, Kate busied herself with lighting a lamp. She didn’t know what she was hoping for—the floor to open up and swallow him whole? It seemed unlikely that he would show a sudden desire to depart after waiting in the snow for her. His eyelids dropped almost imperceptibly.

  “Oh, very well,” she muttered in resignation, and removed her cloak, holding out her hand for his coat. She was rewarded with a wide smile as well as his wet garments. A glance at the stove showed her kettle still steaming on the warm top. “Tea? It’s a bit late for coffee.”

  “Tea would be wonderful.”

  She took her time preparing the tea tray, aware, all the while, of his eyes on her. What did he see? Who did he think she was?

  Without a word, she picked up the tray and headed up the stairs; he followed with the lamp.

  “Let me get the fire.” He was already kneeling at the small stove, striking a flame. It was completely inappropriate that he be here, in her private rooms, but that horse was already miles from the barn. Still, his presence disturbed her.

  “I thought you’d gone to London.” Turning away from tending the tea, she made no attempt to pretend happiness at his arrival.

  “I did. I returned to check the repairs on my ship.”

  His ship? She would not ask him about himself. Instead, Kate perched tensely on one of the small chairs and poured tea as he took the seat opposite. The width of the table between them was a relief.

  “I have something of yours. I thought I would bring it to you as I was returning to town anyway.”

  “I’m sure that wasn’t necessary.”

  Instead of replying, he gently placed a package on the table. It was small: a square of carefully folded blue cloth wrapped in a silver ribbon. Hesitant, afraid what she might find, she reached out and lifted it, feeling the weight of his gaze on her as she untied the ribbon and unfolded the package.

  “Oh!” The sight of the burnished gold, engraved elaborately with a delicate forest of leaves, tightened her throat. With slow reverence, she turned the watch over and brushed her fingers along the smooth-worn metal where her grandfather’s thumb had rubbed away the design. She breathed in the scent of old metal. A memory surfaced, of her grandfather in his library, staring into the flames of the fireplace, thoughtfully stroking the watch as he puzzled something out. A hundred other memories assailed her, all of them of her grandfather, all of them good. He’d been a constant in her life. A man who was always kind and warm and funny, at least with her. Even as a small child she’d been aware that others were intimidated by him, even afraid of him, but Kate had worshipped him—and been adored in return.

  A click of the clasp and it opened to reveal hands frozen at the six and the ten. The watch had kept this same time for years, even before her grandfather’s death. The familiar sight drew another picture from that hollow in her heart.

  Aidan’s face, flushed with the hour they’d spent in each other’s arms. His eyes, shining with fierce emotion as he cradled the watch in his palm. A promise, she’d said, a pledge of my love until we can be together. He’d embraced her then and rained tiny kisses over her eyes, her jaw, her neck. I love you, he’d whispered again and again. I love you.

  Kate placed a hand protectively over her throat, guarding the tightness that settled there.

  “I know how much it meant to you. I wanted . . .” He shrugged. “Well,” he added quietly, “it’s returned to its rightful owner now.”

  Closing the watch with a loud click, Kate tried to end the memories of Aidan with the same efficiency. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of him in years.” The thickness in her throat muted the words.

  His hand lifted, and she watched warily as he reached slowly toward her face. His thumb brushed her cheek, catching a tear she hadn’t known had fallen. Eyes closing of their own accord, she helplessly savored the tenderness of that small touch. How many years had passed since anyone had touched her without demanding or punishing or directing? The thought was jarring. She’d grown up with the gentle hand of her mother, the affectionate arms of her nurse and her governess, the steady touch of her maid. Then there’d been Aidan. . . .

  Odd that a person could go almost a decade without a kind touch and not even realize it.

  The feather touch of his thumb became the warm press of his whole hand. She allowed herself just this moment of pleasure and turned her cheek into his palm, pressed her skin against his heat. Just a second of contact, then she stood swiftly and walked away from him to look out at the night through her tiny window. The floorboards creaked as he rose. She waited anxiously for the sound of his footsteps coming close, but he didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe.

  Silence stretched taut between them, plucking
at her nerves. When he finally spoke, he left the past behind. “You seem to have the beginnings of a successful business here.”

  “Yes,” she answered breathlessly, some of the tension leaching from her body. “It’s very exciting.” Her eyes focused on his reflection in the window and caught his quick grin.

  “Exciting?”

  “Yes. Well, I think so. You probably think running a shop would make for a tedious life.”

  He moved a few steps toward her. In defense, she turned to face him and his smile. “On the contrary,” he said. “I find business invigorating. I think one must find it exciting in order to be successful.”

  “What is your business then?”

  “I started importing years ago. Now I invest, generally. Ships, textiles, industry. Anything I think will make money.”

  “Oh, that does sound fascinating.”

  “It is. When you’re good, it is. If you’re not, then it’s just terrifying.”

  “That good, are you?”

  He laughed, the sound a delicious vibration in her belly. “I can afford to be confident.”

  Smiling, Kate tried to ignore how comfortable it was to simply be with him. There had been an easiness between them from the very first moment they’d met.

  “And what about you?” he asked. “How did you come to this?”

  The easiness vanished like a dream. Clearing her throat, she straightened and edged past him to retrieve her cup. “I already told you. I missed England, and my husband had an idea for new income.”

  “Yes, but how did you come to run the shop? How did you even know you would like it?”

  “I . . . I . . .” She didn’t know what to say. In truth, she hadn’t known any more than that she’d needed to leave Ceylon and she’d needed an income as well.

  Aidan cleared his throat. “I suppose you help with your husband’s estate.”

  “Yes! Yes, exactly. He has a son from his first wife, so he helps with the planting side of it, but there is so much more than that.”

  “And you have no children of your own?”

  She’d been expecting the question, but it still squeezed her chest. He sounded so casual as he asked. So polite. “No. No children. And how is your family? Is your mother still well?”

  A moment passed, but when he answered his voice was light. “She is as she ever was.”

  Despite her nervousness, Kate couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “She has not mellowed with age?”

  “Oh, God no. In fact, I’d say her imagination improves weekly.”

  “And your brother? Has he made you an uncle, at least?”

  “Not yet, much to my mother’s loud lament. But my sister just married. You remember Marissa?”

  “Of course!” she said, though she hadn’t thought of her in years. “I was amazed by her. So beautiful and cool even as a child. If I had to guess, I’d say she married a dashing prince from a foreign land.”

  “On the contrary, an untitled Englishman.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  He winked. “Believe me, neither did we. But she loves him. Even I can see that now.”

  Even I? What did he mean? “And you, Aidan? You’ve never married?”

  “No.”

  Alarmed by the thrill that sparked inside her, she made herself smile lightly. “Surely you’re sought after?”

  “Yes.”

  She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more. Her throat strained. She wanted desperately to ask why he’d never married but wouldn’t let the words pass her lips. It was none of her business.

  “As for your family—” he started.

  Kate drew in a sharp breath and stepped back. “What do you mean? You promised not to tell them—”

  “No. I said nothing. But I believe your mother is well. And I see your brother on rare occasion in London. You do not wish to see them at all?”

  She didn’t close her eyes, though her lids fluttered down for a moment. Her injuries were old and long since healed. “No,” she whispered. “My brother and I were never close.” Even if she had a desire to see her family, she couldn’t. Her masquerade would be finished, of course. But more than that, if Gerard had spread his lies about her, they’d surely have heard.

  Aidan drew near and put a hand to her elbow. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you for bringing my grandfather’s watch.”

  “I wanted to return it to you. And I wanted to see you again,” he said. His soft words seemed to echo in the room, but the tender stroke of his voice must be her imagination.

  “I’m truly grateful.” She turned from him as she carefully voiced the dismissal. It was not subtle. He could not mistake it. She cringed when he made no reply. “It was kind of you to bring it to me.”

  “Kind.”

  Kate nodded and listened to the censorious silence that fell once more. From the corner of her eye, she could see his intent gaze.

  An endless moment passed before he sighed and shifted. “I’d hoped we could be friends.”

  Staring desperately at the wall, she pressed her lips tight together.

  “You were my best friend once, Kate.”

  Her lungs strained to draw breath through her rigid throat, her muscles shivered with suppressed emotion. She’d told herself she wanted only solitude, but his words exposed the lie. If he’d asked to be her lover, she could’ve sent him away with conviction. To be friends, though, as they’d once been . . . The idea set off a fierce yearning inside her.

  Tears overflowed her burning eyes. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth just as his arms came around her. She smelled snow and salt water in the wool of his coat. Aidan York was holding her.

  “There’s too much between us,” she whispered through her tears.

  “Nonsense. There’s no reason in the world we can’t be friends.”

  “There’s too much between us,” she repeated frantically.

  “The past is the past, Kate. We’re both different people now.” His hand smoothed over her hair, soothing her frenzied nerves. “I’m not willing to lose you again. I’ve not had a true friend since the day you left England.”

  He couldn’t know what that meant to her, to hear that no person had ever replaced her in his life, just as no one had ever taken his place in hers. He needed her, and, oh God, it seemed she needed him too. But could she believe him? She’d once believed every word he’d said, but her father and time and distance had ruined that for her.

  But those old doubts could not expand when his arms were around her.

  “I’m married,” she breathed in one last attempt to push him away.

  “I know.”

  This was a terrible idea. Sending him away had been the right thing to do, but she didn’t think she had the strength to do it again. Kate breathed in the scent of him, of his clothes and his soap and his skin, and felt the blank terror of jumping from an unknown height. She deserved this small thing, didn’t she?

  Taking a deep breath, she braved the leap. “I was planning a long walk along the Humber tomorrow. The shop is closed on Sundays.”

  He was still, stiff, then his muscles shifted and moved slowly into relaxation. “I was thinking of a walk myself. Would you like company?”

  Sniffing self-consciously, Kate nodded into his shirt, unable to speak past the emotion that pressed against her throat. Friendship, she told herself as her heart danced in her chest. And nothing more.

  Chapter 11

  It was as dreary a day as he’d ever seen. Gray light, gray sand, gray rocks, gray water. And Aidan was sure his frozen toes were an alarming shade of that same color. Watching Kate as she stepped lightly beside him, he wondered if she were walking on the same icy beach as he. A happy pink glow suffused her cheeks, and her eyes seemed to throw off gold sparks.

  “It’s cold,” he groaned.

  “So you’ve said.” She gazed serenely out over the rippling water, a small smile playing about her mouth.

  “You seemed
to need reminding.”

  Her smile widened when she turned toward him. “You should go home and warm up. We can walk together another time . . . when it’s not too cold for you.”

  “It’s not too cold for me,” he protested in as reasonable a tone as he could muster. “I’m only concerned about you.”

  “I’m perfectly well. You, on the other hand, look positively frozen.”

  She seemed so cheerful about it he couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you enjoying this so much?”

  “You’d enjoy it too if you’d baked in the tropical sun for years!”

  “I suppose I would,” Aidan conceded, happy with her enthusiasm, if not the weather. “And if you can bear the cold, I’m afraid my pride wouldn’t survive the embarrassment of retreat.”

  “Such a gracious escort.” Her grin was saucy, relaxed.

  Aidan grunted obligingly, but he was secretly thrilled. She was a different woman today. Her smile came easily and she took his arm with a natural grace instead of wariness.

  His offer of a platonic friendship had relieved her, it seemed, removing the tension that hovered about her like a storm. It was no idle offer on his part. She had been his last true friend, and he’d missed the ease and comfort of being near her.

  “How long will you be staying this time?” Her voice broke through his thoughts.

  “Well, I’d only thought to check on the progress of repairs on the ship, but the workmanship is impressive. I’m considering leaving her here for the complete overhaul. It’d be to my advantage to have a good shipyard outside the confines of London.” The advantages began to form and clarify in his mind even as he spoke. Cheaper port fees, a faster turnaround. The work itself definitely came cheaper, and the craftsmen seemed reliable.

  And Kate was here.

  “It’s colder here, though,” he added with a sidelong look at her. “The river tends to ice.”

  “Oh, so subtle! Fine. I give in. Let’s get you back inside to warm your delicate toes.”

  Aidan smiled at her with unabashed pleasure, whirling her around to walk back toward town. “My delicate fingers are quite frozen too.”

  Kate surprised him by giggling. She really was so different. Perhaps he was too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked for the simple enjoyment of it. Actually, he could. Of course he could. It had been with Kate, along a rocky river shore quite like this one, her hand held tightly in his. And then they’d spied that old boathouse. . . .