It's Always Been You

by Victoria Dahl

Kate rolled her eyes. “Regardless, will you deliver this letter to your father?”

  As if her work was done, Lucy stood and clapped her hands together. “I will. Good afternoon then, Kate. Forget I ever said a thing about it.” She retrieved her letter and set off with a jaunty wave.

  But of course, Kate couldn’t forget. Not for a moment. Perhaps she did not need to kill off her manufactured husband. Perhaps she could simply think like a man and have everything she wanted at once.

  Chapter 13

  Aidan smiled into the snowflakes as he walked, thinking how Kate must be enjoying the weather. Perhaps he should buy her Sir William Perry’s account of his expedition to the Arctic. She’d likely adore the descriptions of unbearable cold. He made a mental note to have Penrose order the book as soon as they returned to London.

  He didn’t want to think about leaving though. He felt content here, and not only when he was with Kate. But at the moment, all his good feeling had to do with the sight of Guys Lane ahead. His heart pressed against his throat in anticipation.

  When he turned the corner, there was Kate, as if she’d been waiting for him.

  She locked the front door of her shop and turned toward him, and when her eyes widened in surprise, he saw joy in them. Joy for him like embers glowing in the snowy dusk.

  “You can’t keep coming here,” she said when she reached him.

  Aidan blinked in shock. Whatever fantasies he’d had about how she’d respond after that intimate evening, this wasn’t it. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t have people talking.”

  She was concerned about appearances, not his actual presence. Suppressing a smile, Aidan took another step back and clasped his hands behind him.

  “I’m a married woman. People on the lane will gossip.”

  “Are you asking me to come in through the back?”

  One side of her mouth curved up as she brushed past him to walk up the lane.

  He followed her around the corner and watched her tug her hood lower before she started walking again.

  “There’s no one out in this storm, Kate.”

  “That’s why I’m allowing you to accompany me.”

  “And may I ask where we’re going?”

  “I am going to speak to an importer. You may walk with me, but I can’t have you there when I negotiate.”

  “Why?”

  She stopped abruptly and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Aidan. Don’t be dense. If you’re there he’ll speak to you because you’re a man.”

  She started walking again, leaving Aidan to follow, slightly dizzy with confusion. Here was another new Kate. This was obviously a woman who had started a shop, despite that ten years before she’d been a pampered girl of the ton and had never worked a day in her life. He would’ve admired this new side of her if she looked at all open to kisses and flirtation, but she looked as if she’d box his ears if he got close. Still, he dared to reach for her hand and place it on his arm to slow her pace.

  Though she shot him an annoyed look, she left her hand where it was. He felt her side press against his forearm as she took a deep breath. “I cannot afford the appearance of impropriety. Surely you can understand.”

  “Of course. The appearance.”

  She turned enough that he could see her eyes slide over his chest. “Yes.”

  Aidan’s heart jumped into a crazed rhythm at that one simple word. This was real, this possibility that she could be his again. It wasn’t his mind weaving phantoms into feelings. She felt it too. And even if they were both imagining this pull . . . didn’t that make it real?

  He felt light-headed, so dizzy he wanted to laugh. Yet they walked on, as if the world weren’t swaying beneath his feet. As if his heart wasn’t thundering in overjoyed panic.

  He tried to remind himself that she was married, but what did that matter to him? He knew well what little hold those bonds placed on women’s bodies.

  Kate’s hand left his arm and she said, “Wait here,” before disappearing around a corner. By the time he caught up, the only sign of her was a weathered door swinging closed. The rough, splintered wood of the building rose up at least two stories. A warehouse.

  Aidan was left waiting like a lost child. The snow pelted his hat, then dripped off the brim in watery clumps. But the cold no longer cut through him, because all he could feel was the premonition of Kate’s touch.

  Kate carried her happy anxiety into the warehouse and turned it into boldness. She glared down at the open bag of roasted beans and snarled at the man who offered it. “You are a fool.”

  He snorted in arrogant contempt. “I assure you, Mrs. Hamilton, that this is the finest quality of Coorg coffee on the market.”

  “And I assure you, Mr. Fost, that it is not.”

  “Madam, if your husband were here to offer you guidance, he would—”

  “If my husband were here, you would not try to pass off this rubbish as Coorg.”

  He seemed uncowed. “If you will only note the beautiful darkness of—”

  “Exactly how many years did you spend living in the East?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I spent the last ten years of my life on a coffee plantation, Mr. Fost.”

  “I’m aware of that, but I doubt Mr. Hamilton allowed you to stroll the fields.”

  Frustration flashed to rage, and Kate’s muscles ached with the need to hurt this man. She pointed her finger in his face and bared her teeth. “You listen, sir, and listen very closely. A quarter of these beans were picked green and another half are not much better than that. If you have a functioning brain in that head of yours, you will not send me another crate of less-than-questionable quality and try to pass it off as something better. Do you think my husband would’ve sent me here on my own if he did not trust me with his livelihood? You insult us both.”

  He held up both hands, his eyes finally brightening with alarm. “Mrs. Hamilton, please. I swear to you, my London roaster promised me this was an excellent lot.” The man’s placating tone had finally risen to desperation.

  “There is really no point in my continuing a business relationship with a man who’s either dishonest or too ignorant to realize his supplier is cheating him.”

  She could see him struggle with his pride for a moment before he finally gave in with an inclination of his head. “I apologize, madam. This won’t happen again.”

  “It had better not. I’m aware of your tenuous situation, Mr. Fost.” His eyes widened dramatically. “You would do very well to keep me happy.”

  “Of course.”

  “Other distributors may not even know the difference between stable muck and arabica, but I expect to be treated as a professional.”

  “Yes, yes. I can assure you, I will send only the best, the most valuable of my supply in the future. I’m grateful for your understanding.”

  A stream of apologies followed her out the door.

  Kate sighed as the door banged shut, leaving her in the snowy dusk. Mr. Fost was having a rough spell. One of his major buyers in Leeds had retired. It truly wasn’t her concern, not when her profit was at stake, and she refused to feel sorry for him. But he had done her a service of sorts, reminding her of why she’d started this masquerade in the first place. Without the ghost of a husband behind her, she would not be able to establish a solid footing among the men in this business. And they were all men.

  It had only been wishful thinking on her part, to hope to give up her lies so soon. Kate was so wrapped up in her temper that she didn’t see Aidan until he moved away from the wall he’d leaned against. In all honesty, she’d forgotten he was there, and she felt twin jolts of alarm and joy at the sight of him.

  “You didn’t have to wait,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll assume that was a poor attempt at a joke.”

  The snow had picked up. The world was
silent around them as she took his arm. The muffled crunch of their footsteps was the only sound in the world as they walked. And her breathing. And her pounding heart.

  “I feel . . .” she started, but the words stuck in her mouth, as if they didn’t wish to emerge.

  “Yes?” Aidan prompted.

  “I feel I should send you away.”

  “But why?”

  “You know why.”

  She dared a glance at him and found him scowling at the snowy street. “Don’t let the past years come between us,” he said softly.

  “It’s not so simple,” she whispered. “I’ve had a whole life since then. And you don’t appear to have been living as an ascetic monk.”

  She felt the jump of startled muscles in his arm. “I haven’t claimed to.”

  “Lucy tells me you have your finger in everything.”

  “I—I don’t—Pardon?”

  “You’re no simple investor. You haven’t been quietly toiling away for the past decade. You’re a rich and powerful London gentleman now.”

  She felt his fingers curve over her hand, and Kate slowed to stop. Aidan circled around until he stood in front of her. “Do you know why I’m rich, Kate?”

  She shook her head. Snowflakes landed on his lips and melted there.

  “Because I was determined to never be supplicant again.”

  “Supplicant to whom?”

  “To your father. To anyone like him.”

  Kate felt the strange pain of a ghost sliding through her. “My father? You really asked him?”

  The frown on his face didn’t budge. “What do you mean?”

  “You asked for my hand? You truly tried to persuade him?”

  Aidan shook his head, and water slid off his hat like teardrops. “What are you talking about? You know I asked him. It was the entire reason we argued.”

  “I know.” She nodded, only a faint movement, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. “Yes, of course.”

  “Kate.” He lost some of his tension, and he reached for her. His gloved fingers curved under her chin to still her movement. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s silly, but . . . He told me you didn’t.”

  He tilted his head in puzzlement.

  Kate tried to smile. “I never believed him. Not at first. But then . . . you didn’t come for me.”

  “Who told you what? You’re not making any sense.”

  “My father. He denied that you asked for my hand.”

  “My God, Kate! That’s ridiculous. Why would he say that?”

  “Because,” she whispered, tilting her chin out of the grasp of his fingers. “Because I told him I couldn’t marry anyone else. I told him I’d already given myself to you.”

  “Oh, Kate,” he sighed.

  “He said I was a fool. That you’d used me like a . . . like a rag and then tossed me away.”

  “No . . .” His face went white. “That’s not true. I asked for permission to marry you. I begged for it on my knees. I swear to you, I did everything but kiss his boots.”

  She nodded again, but stopped herself before she got lost in the motion. She couldn’t speak, and the pressure in her throat was one big mass of relief. Despite her initial, violent rejection of her father’s words, at some point they’d rooted in her mind. He’d kicked at one of those stones that held her up, and eventually the seed he’d planted had worked into the cracks like a weed, splitting her certainty wide open. And when that stone had tumbled out, she’d known that Aidan had taken her virginity without any intention of marriage. She’d thought herself in love with a falsehood.

  But Kate slid a new stone back into place. Aidan had loved her, and she hadn’t been a fool.

  “I did come for you,” he said.

  For a moment, she picture him in Ceylon, searching the harbor towns for any sign of her. Her heart clenched in pained hope. “You did?”

  “I came to Bannington Hall. Over and over. They said you wouldn’t receive me.”

  Her heart fell. “I was with my mother’s family,” she whispered.

  He’d never known. He’d said it before, but somehow it hit her now. She’d waited and waited for him to come to Ceylon to rescue her. She’d been so patient. So true.

  But slowly, as the weeks had crawled painfully by, she’d realized that he was never coming for her. He didn’t want her. Why else would she still have been on that godforsaken island? Why else would she still have been that strange man’s wife?

  Her heart had shriveled up, condensing to a hard, tight knot in her chest, and she’d realized with a quiet kind of horror that Ceylon was her life from then on. Her life. That isolated, foreign place her home; that cold man her husband. No one was ever coming to take her away. And so much of her had crumbled then. There might never be enough stones to fix that.

  Remembering that first year in Ceylon, Kate clenched her hands tight. Snow bit at her face and she tried to breathe. “I sent letters,” she whispered. “But of course you never got them. Even then, I didn’t think you did.”

  His hand touched her again, smoothing over her cheek. “Don’t cry, Kate. Please.”

  Was she crying?

  “I came for you,” he whispered urgently. His arms curved around her. He pulled her into his arms and moved them toward the shadows of an alley. “I came for you. I swear I did.”

  She nodded again, her cheek scraping over his wool greatcoat, but she was crying hard now, gasping for air. He couldn’t truly understand because she’d never tell him.

  “How could you believe that about me?” His breath rushed over her forehead, turning to ice where her skin was wet.

  I don’t know, she meant to say, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t, truly. A few minutes later, her sobs finally subsided.

  “Come,” Aidan said. “Let’s get you home.”

  For once, she felt no outrage at being ordered about. She walked through the evening with snow swirling through her vision and felt she was drifting through clouds. They moved toward the alley, avoiding the front door.

  Once they were in her kitchen, he locked the alley door and took her cloak.

  She looked blankly toward the stove. “I should heat some water. . . .”

  “No.” And when he turned her toward the stairs, she went blindly, numbly. The same numbness cradled her as he unlaced her dress and loosened her corset.

  “I did it,” she whispered, her voice reed thin.

  “Did what?”

  “I told my father the truth about us. That’s why he sent me away. And that’s why he told you I was dead.”

  “No.” His fingers worked along her spine, freeing her from the awful constraint. “He would never have lied to all of England just to keep the second son of a baron away from his daughter. I’ve been thinking about it. Hell, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  When the corset finally let loose its grip, Kate drew a glorious breath that steadied and soothed her all at once.

  “Your father has always been arrogant and proud. He loves nothing better than expounding on his bloodline and complaining that England has lost its respect for tradition. How could he then admit that he’d sent his daughter to the East to marry a stranger with no bloodline to speak of? Can you imagine him explaining that to his friends at the club? He welcomes a foreign stranger into his family, all for the sake of filthy lucre?”

  She supposed he was right, but she was too bone-weary to take it in.

  When she was down to her shift, Aidan lifted her and took her to her bed. She went with no objection, holding on to his neck when he bent to throw back the bedcover, curling into a tight ball when he laid her down.

  He left her and returned within moments to wash her tear-streaked face with a handkerchief dipped in cold water.

  When he was done, she closed her eyes and turned away from him.

  “I’ll leave,” he said, and suddenly Kate’s mind cleared. She didn’t want him to leave. Not at all.

  “Stay,” she whispered to the wall. Mi
raculously, he heard her.

  The scrape of his boots halted. She felt his eyes on her, but she felt no nervousness.

  “I’ll sleep in the parlor,” he offered.

  “No. Stay here. In my bed.”

  Silence again. And then she heard the sounds of cloth against cloth. The same noises of the forest in Ceylon, oddly. The shushing sound of leaf brushing leaf in a steady breeze. The room went dark. When Aidan lay down with her, his trousers touched her legs, but his arm was bare when he curled it over her.

  He leaned close and pressed a kiss to the skin just below her ear. She felt as free as one of the birds in the jungle forest, flying high above the grasping green leaves.

  Whispering against her neck, he urged her not to worry.

  And so she wouldn’t. Not tonight.

  Chapter 14

  Kate stuck her head back into the bedroom and just as quickly withdrew. He was still asleep, sheets tangled around his trouser legs.

  She’d already dressed in a panicked rush in the parlor and gone downstairs to brew coffee. Now she didn’t know what to do. Her hands shook, her muscles ached with a trembling need to flee. She paced to the window and stared out at the mist. And then she laughed.

  Aidan was in her room. Aidan was in her bed. The knowledge filled her up with a raw heat that felt like sunshine. Like the merciless sunshine in Ceylon, except this was a heat she welcomed. She hadn’t felt anything like it since . . . since she’d been a girl. Since she’d loved Aidan.

  But she wasn’t a foolish young girl now, and this wasn’t love. It was desire. Hope. It was living instead of existing. Ceylon had changed her, but it hadn’t pulled her soul clean from her body as she’d feared.

  No, her soul had definitely been intact when she’d lain in bed and stared at Aidan’s bare chest this morning. Her heart had thundered with nervousness, but that hard pulse had pushed her body to arousal. They’d lain together before, but only in stolen, rushed embraces of rumpled clothing and hushed moans. She’d never seen his bare chest or the strong lines of his arms. She’d never awoken to find his cheekbones brushed with pink warmth and his hair a wild mess.

  My God, he was beautiful. Even more handsome than he’d been as a boy.