Chapter 61
He lowered his hand.
“When the roads open, you are free to go.”
Henrietta closed her eyes.
It hurt.
And somehow the hurt felt clean.
When she opened them, Calvin was watching her with fear stripped bare across his face.
“But,” he said, “if freedom allows you to choose me too, I would ask you to stay.”
Her mouth trembled.
“As what?”
Calvin glanced toward the torn contract in the stove.
“Not property.”
She waited.
“Not payment.”
She waited.
“Not obligation.”
His voice quieted.
“My wife.”
Henrietta’s heart gave one painful, impossible beat.
“And what would you be?”
Calvin almost smiled.
“If you permit it, your husband.”
“That answer sounds suspiciously simple.”
“I have had poor results with complicated ones.”
She looked down at her hands.
Calvin let the silence remain.
That, too, was new.
No command. No demand. No impatient effort to force an answer from her.
Henrietta rose.
Calvin’s face fell slightly.
She crossed to the bed.
His eyes followed her.
“Do you remember our wedding?” she asked.
His shame returned. “Every damned second.”
“The magistrate told you to kiss me.”
“I remember.”
“And you stepped away.”
His throat worked.
“Yes.”
Henrietta set her cane aside.
Calvin looked at it, then at her.
She stood close enough now that he could have touched her waist.
He did not.
“I will not accept a husband who kisses me because a magistrate orders him.”
His expression shifted.
“Nor because he feels guilty.”
“No.”
“Nor because he nearly died.”
“No.”
“Nor because he thinks he owes me romance as repayment.”
“I understand.”
Henrietta looked into his eyes.
“Then why would you kiss me now?”
Calvin’s breath caught.
For once, Calvin Brooks seemed to have no instinct to hide behind.
“Because I want to.”
Her pulse leapt.
He continued softly. “And because I have wanted to for longer than I admitted.”
Henrietta swallowed.
“Ask me.”
His eyes widened slightly.
Then he sat straighter despite the pain.
“Henrietta Brooks,” he said, and his voice trembled on her name, “may I kiss you?”
She let him wait one second.
Two.
Then she smiled.
“Yes.”
Calvin lifted his hand slowly to her cheek.
His palm was warm.
That surprised her.
Everything about the moment seemed gentler than the man she had married: the care with which his thumb rested below her ear, the way he waited even after her answer, the slight crease between his brows as if he still could not believe permission had truly been given.