make sense. Not then, and not for a long time after. I expect you felt the same sort of thing when John died.”
“I did. I still do.”
“After she died, I forgot about the idea of marriage, or perhaps I simply lost interest. In the meantime my brother married and produced several heirs, so my parents stopped bothering me about it.”
“I am sorry.”
“You’re very kind. But it was a long time ago. I can scarcely remember her face, now. She never sat for a photograph. You do have a picture of John, don’t you?”
“Yes, thank goodness. I have a daguerreotype that was taken on our wedding day, and also a portrait in oils, a small one, that was done when he was ordained.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“So now it’s only you and Grendel?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood in the room.
“Yes, me and my wee Scots beastie, and he loves me despite my faults.”
“You exaggerate. I’m sure you would have made Cecilia very happy.”
“I hope so. What of your plans for the future? Do you think to marry again?”
“I doubt it,” I answered honestly. “I have enough for my keeping, and I’m content in my little cottage. I cannot imagine replicating the happiness I shared with John, so why settle for less?”
“Why indeed?”
“He wasn’t perfect, you know. People in the village speak of him as if he were some sort of living saint. But he wasn’t. He could be grumpy, and obsessive about his work, and sometimes he was so busy he seemed to forget I was even there. But I loved him all the more for it, clay feet and all. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me. ”
“You must speak to me about him whenever you wish, if you think it will do you good.”
“It does. I miss everything about him. Even the way he would snore at night. Most of all, I miss...well, I miss having someone to be close with. I hate the feeling of forever being apart and alone. Untouched. Some days it’s unbearable.”
An instant after the words had left my mouth, I grasped their full import. Surely Tom did not wish to hear of my loneliness, either physical or emotional. How pathetic I must seem. “I beg your pardon. I spoke too boldly, just now.”
“You did nothing of the sort. Particularly since...well, it encourages me to say something at least a thousand times bolder. Or, rather, I am going to ask you something.”
Oh, Lord—he wanted another kiss. I knew it. He was nervous, just as he’d been when he’d asked me to write the guide. There was the slightest flush of color on his cheekbones, and the expression on his face, when he looked up and met my searching gaze, was endearingly uncertain.
“I have another proposal for you, and once more I must beg your pardon in advance if it offends you. I, ah, I rather fear it will, but I cannot help asking all the same.”
“Go on,” I said, wincing a little at how eager I sounded.
“You must already know that I’m drawn to you. Very much so. Not only because you are the loveliest woman I’ve ever met, but also because you are...well, you. Brave, intelligent, curious. Infinitely desirable.”
Why did he persist in saying such things? What did he want from me? “Please, Tom, you mustn’t—”
“Do let me finish. What I wish to ask you, and again I beg your pardon, if I cause you to feel even the slightest moment of distress—”
“Just say it, Tom. I’ve never swooned before and I doubt I will now, no matter what you say.” Though if anything were to make me swoon, his complimenting me so fulsomely would be enough.
A pause, an endless pause, and then his question, spoken so softly I could barely hear his voice above the drumbeat of my heart. “Will you consent to an intimate liaison with me? Become my lover?”
I must have misheard him. That could be the only explanation. “I beg your pardon? I think I must have—”
“I want you. I desire you. And I believe you desire me, too.”
I didn’t swoon, but I did lose the ability to transform
“I did. I still do.”
“After she died, I forgot about the idea of marriage, or perhaps I simply lost interest. In the meantime my brother married and produced several heirs, so my parents stopped bothering me about it.”
“I am sorry.”
“You’re very kind. But it was a long time ago. I can scarcely remember her face, now. She never sat for a photograph. You do have a picture of John, don’t you?”
“Yes, thank goodness. I have a daguerreotype that was taken on our wedding day, and also a portrait in oils, a small one, that was done when he was ordained.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“So now it’s only you and Grendel?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood in the room.
“Yes, me and my wee Scots beastie, and he loves me despite my faults.”
“You exaggerate. I’m sure you would have made Cecilia very happy.”
“I hope so. What of your plans for the future? Do you think to marry again?”
“I doubt it,” I answered honestly. “I have enough for my keeping, and I’m content in my little cottage. I cannot imagine replicating the happiness I shared with John, so why settle for less?”
“Why indeed?”
“He wasn’t perfect, you know. People in the village speak of him as if he were some sort of living saint. But he wasn’t. He could be grumpy, and obsessive about his work, and sometimes he was so busy he seemed to forget I was even there. But I loved him all the more for it, clay feet and all. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me. ”
“You must speak to me about him whenever you wish, if you think it will do you good.”
“It does. I miss everything about him. Even the way he would snore at night. Most of all, I miss...well, I miss having someone to be close with. I hate the feeling of forever being apart and alone. Untouched. Some days it’s unbearable.”
An instant after the words had left my mouth, I grasped their full import. Surely Tom did not wish to hear of my loneliness, either physical or emotional. How pathetic I must seem. “I beg your pardon. I spoke too boldly, just now.”
“You did nothing of the sort. Particularly since...well, it encourages me to say something at least a thousand times bolder. Or, rather, I am going to ask you something.”
Oh, Lord—he wanted another kiss. I knew it. He was nervous, just as he’d been when he’d asked me to write the guide. There was the slightest flush of color on his cheekbones, and the expression on his face, when he looked up and met my searching gaze, was endearingly uncertain.
“I have another proposal for you, and once more I must beg your pardon in advance if it offends you. I, ah, I rather fear it will, but I cannot help asking all the same.”
“Go on,” I said, wincing a little at how eager I sounded.
“You must already know that I’m drawn to you. Very much so. Not only because you are the loveliest woman I’ve ever met, but also because you are...well, you. Brave, intelligent, curious. Infinitely desirable.”
Why did he persist in saying such things? What did he want from me? “Please, Tom, you mustn’t—”
“Do let me finish. What I wish to ask you, and again I beg your pardon, if I cause you to feel even the slightest moment of distress—”
“Just say it, Tom. I’ve never swooned before and I doubt I will now, no matter what you say.” Though if anything were to make me swoon, his complimenting me so fulsomely would be enough.
A pause, an endless pause, and then his question, spoken so softly I could barely hear his voice above the drumbeat of my heart. “Will you consent to an intimate liaison with me? Become my lover?”
I must have misheard him. That could be the only explanation. “I beg your pardon? I think I must have—”
“I want you. I desire you. And I believe you desire me, too.”
I didn’t swoon, but I did lose the ability to transform
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