Read Online One Scandalous Kiss by Christy Carlyle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christy Carlyle
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one arm around her waist as he dipped his head. If he wished to kiss her, she’d let him. Right or wrong, she’d let him. But he didn’t take her mouth. Instead, he moved his head lower, pressing his cheek to hers.
“I can’t forget.” He repeated the words low, a hot, breathy whisper that tickled her ear and sparked a wave of sensation across her skin. She was already quivering when he kissed her, pressing his lips to her cheek, just at the edge of her ear.
Then it was over. He lifted his head and steadied her on her feet. There was no fire in his gaze now. Just sadness. Or was it regret?
He stepped away from her once more, stroking his hand down her arm before releasing her.
After placing his top hat on his head, he bowed—to her, a ruined businesswoman and public strumpet—before striding out of her shambles of a bookshop. Out of her shambles of a life. This time, she was certain, forever.
E V ER FAITHFUL, J ACK stayed on past their usual closing time to help Jess with the borrower letters and tidying the shop’s back room. Ever discreet, he’d kept mum about the viscount’s visit. Jess was thankful for both.
“We’re down to our last few penny stamps, Jack. Should we spend what’s left on some more?”
Determined to let all of their lending library borrowers know the shop was closing, Jess also wanted to urge them to keep the books currently in their care. Better that devoted readers have a book of their own than Briggs and his men have the lot or use it as kindling.
She handed the last of the Wright and Sons Booksellers’ petty cash to Jack and he donned his coat. The London weather was predictable only in its unpredictability. What began as a day of blue skies and warm breezes had now turned cool and foggy.
She followed Jack to the front door carrying a packet of letters to be mailed to the borrowers. He was on the threshold and she’d nearly closed the door on him to keep out the cold when he turned back to her.
“What will you do, miss?”
The question chilled her more than the biting autumn air. It was the problem she’d been ignoring as she busied herself with what must be done. Her morning listlessness had dissolved with the viscount’s visit and she’d been cleaning and sorting and writing letters for hours. The question of her future had been at the back of her mind, but she’d pushed it aside.
“I honestly don’t know.” Her options were few and her means even less. Service loomed as the most reasonable option.
“Perhaps I shall go into service.” It was a relief to simply say the words aloud.
“Well, you should go as a governess, miss. You’ve more sense and cleverness than most men I know.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the irony of his words, considering the situation. “Lot of good it did me, eh?”
Jack looked down and studied the letters in his hands. They both knew that the loss of the bookshop led directly back to her father—his drinking, his gambling, all the secrets he’d hidden from her for years.
“I’m freezing, Jack. Hurry back and I’ll treat you and Sally at the Frog and Whistle.” He offered her a toothy smile, appearing much younger than his fifty years, before dashing off like a man half his age. There was no underestimating the motivating power of good food and frothy ale.
Jess latched the door behind him and made certain their hastily made “Closed” sign was in place. Then she turned and surveyed the shop from that spot, just inside the front door. Tears welled in her eyes. She bit her lip and choked back a sob as her gaze lit on each bookcase, the neat columns of spines, the brass plates indicating topic, and the glint of gilt on the newest, most expensive volumes. Some would simply see it as a collection of paper and leather and binding glue. To Jess it was the world. For as long as she could remember, the bookshop had formed the boundary lines of her life, but through the pages of so many of its books she’d encountered the
“I can’t forget.” He repeated the words low, a hot, breathy whisper that tickled her ear and sparked a wave of sensation across her skin. She was already quivering when he kissed her, pressing his lips to her cheek, just at the edge of her ear.
Then it was over. He lifted his head and steadied her on her feet. There was no fire in his gaze now. Just sadness. Or was it regret?
He stepped away from her once more, stroking his hand down her arm before releasing her.
After placing his top hat on his head, he bowed—to her, a ruined businesswoman and public strumpet—before striding out of her shambles of a bookshop. Out of her shambles of a life. This time, she was certain, forever.
E V ER FAITHFUL, J ACK stayed on past their usual closing time to help Jess with the borrower letters and tidying the shop’s back room. Ever discreet, he’d kept mum about the viscount’s visit. Jess was thankful for both.
“We’re down to our last few penny stamps, Jack. Should we spend what’s left on some more?”
Determined to let all of their lending library borrowers know the shop was closing, Jess also wanted to urge them to keep the books currently in their care. Better that devoted readers have a book of their own than Briggs and his men have the lot or use it as kindling.
She handed the last of the Wright and Sons Booksellers’ petty cash to Jack and he donned his coat. The London weather was predictable only in its unpredictability. What began as a day of blue skies and warm breezes had now turned cool and foggy.
She followed Jack to the front door carrying a packet of letters to be mailed to the borrowers. He was on the threshold and she’d nearly closed the door on him to keep out the cold when he turned back to her.
“What will you do, miss?”
The question chilled her more than the biting autumn air. It was the problem she’d been ignoring as she busied herself with what must be done. Her morning listlessness had dissolved with the viscount’s visit and she’d been cleaning and sorting and writing letters for hours. The question of her future had been at the back of her mind, but she’d pushed it aside.
“I honestly don’t know.” Her options were few and her means even less. Service loomed as the most reasonable option.
“Perhaps I shall go into service.” It was a relief to simply say the words aloud.
“Well, you should go as a governess, miss. You’ve more sense and cleverness than most men I know.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the irony of his words, considering the situation. “Lot of good it did me, eh?”
Jack looked down and studied the letters in his hands. They both knew that the loss of the bookshop led directly back to her father—his drinking, his gambling, all the secrets he’d hidden from her for years.
“I’m freezing, Jack. Hurry back and I’ll treat you and Sally at the Frog and Whistle.” He offered her a toothy smile, appearing much younger than his fifty years, before dashing off like a man half his age. There was no underestimating the motivating power of good food and frothy ale.
Jess latched the door behind him and made certain their hastily made “Closed” sign was in place. Then she turned and surveyed the shop from that spot, just inside the front door. Tears welled in her eyes. She bit her lip and choked back a sob as her gaze lit on each bookcase, the neat columns of spines, the brass plates indicating topic, and the glint of gilt on the newest, most expensive volumes. Some would simply see it as a collection of paper and leather and binding glue. To Jess it was the world. For as long as she could remember, the bookshop had formed the boundary lines of her life, but through the pages of so many of its books she’d encountered the
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