Chapter 16

sixteen

E DITH HADN’T SEEN Perry for the whole morning.

He’d left instructions for her to arrange the books in his library and hadn’t shown himself, which was a little disappointing. But a more pleasant task didn’t exist because, while her relationship with books had been troubled as of late, she’d never stopped appreciating them.

Among cups of tea and oat biscuits, she’d spent the morning dividing part of Perry’s extensive book collection into groups by author and title. He owned a few first editions; she was nearly scared she might ruin them by touching them.

She couldn’t remember the last time when she’d enjoyed herself with a quiet, solitary task. The dispensary was oftentimes chaotic with nurses constantly coming and going.

The downside was her thoughts spoke louder in the silence of the library, and not all of them were pleasant. Marianne’s apologetic face kept flashing through her mind; Mother’s disbelief at her new job never failed to worry her; Neville’s words made her uncomfortable. Not to mention she hadn’t talked to her father about her new job yet.

She was standing on the step, balancing herself on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf, when footsteps approached.

“Good afternoon,” Perry said.

“Bother.” She lost her balance. The book she wanted to put on the shelf dropped on the floor with a thud. She gasped. “Oh no!”

The step quivered, and she slipped, only to end up in Perry’s welcoming arms.

“Careful.” His clean scent of soap filled her nostrils as he held her.

She put a hand on his chest, right over his quickening heartbeat. “You caught me off guard.”

“Apologies. I thought you’d heard me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he talked. Fascinating. Had he always had those thick eyebrows, or those emerald specks in his irises? Or those hard muscles in his arms? His pectoralis major wasn’t bad, either.

“I was too focused.”

He swallowed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here this morning.” He released her and put some distance between them, but his smouldering gaze remained on her. “I had my exercise session with Oliver. He likes to record everything I do. I feel like the prime minister followed by journalists.”

She smiled and crouched to pick up the book. “I hope I didn’t ruin it.”

He knelt as well, and they reached out for the book at the same time, their hands touching. She met his gaze, and for a second, the air between them was charged with tension, but not of the angry type.

“Don’t worry.” He took the book and straightened. “If the spine breaks, I’ll have it repaired.”

“Thank goodness there are things that can be repaired easily.” She smoothed a crease on her skirt.

“Some things require more time than others, but eventually, any damage can be repaired.”

She didn’t share his confidence. “My sister is giving a ball next week, and you’re invited.”

His expression changed as if she’d told him he would meet the queen without wearing clothes. Dash it. Why did she think of Perry naked? Maybe because she wondered how those muscles looked at closer inspection.

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

“I’m not keen on attending balls.” He put the book on the top shelf without even rising on his tiptoes. “But I don’t want to be rude to your sister, and I can’t spend my life as a recluse. Meeting people bothers me, but I want to go.”

“It won’t be a crowded ball. Marianne doesn’t like it when there are too many people. But she’s fond of trying foreign or unusual foods. All delicious. Her parties are famous for the most extravagant hors d’oeuvre.”

His nod lacked determination.

“I prefer small gatherings as well. Too many people ruin the party,” she said.

“Have you attended many parties in the past years?” he asked, leaning against the shelf, carelessly handsome.

“More than I’d care to count.” She brushed a speck of dust from another book. “I found parties to be a good distraction from worries and thinking too much.”

“You must have had many experiences.” A hint of sadness slipped into his voice.

“None of them are worth remembering, and in fact, I don’t remember many of them.”

He chuckled. “Still, I guess you have better memories than being prodded by doctors and pricked with needles while sweating to speak your name.”

She put the book aside and closed the distance between them, stopping a couple of feet from him. “I must apologise. Of course, my troubles can’t be compared with what you went through.”

“No, I didn’t mean it in that way. It’s me who should apologise.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Forgive me. I’m tired,” he stammered the last words.

She cupped his cheek without thinking. Her hand moved of its own accord, but she needed to touch him. The conversation she had with Marianne echoed in her head.

“I wish I’d been a better friend. You needed me, and I was here, lying and carousing from one useless party to the next. I’ve been very selfish.”

Perhaps Edith imagined things, but she could swear Perry’s glances at her were particularly heated. Since he’d bought her painting, she believed his attitude towards her had become more sensual. Or maybe it was her imagination.

No, she didn’t regret having posed for Valentine, not the act itself, but what had happened afterwards. The painting was personal. It was her personal journey towards… right. She didn’t know where she was going, to be honest.

Her journey wasn’t about freedom because her parents had always given her freedom and support to follow her dream, or what had been her dream. Even when she’d spent her days doing nothing, they’d been patient with her. But they weren’t stupid. They were aware something was wrong with her. Yet they’d never sent her away. And she’d abused that freedom for unimportant things while Perry had gone through a real struggle.

He covered her hand with his and tilted his head just enough to brush his sculpted lips against her inner wrist, shooting a bolt of lightning through her.

In her wild nights, she’d kissed many a gentleman, but the blast of pure excitement his gentle kiss triggered was unprecedented. One soft peck from Perry, and her whole body sizzled with pleasure. The sensation had nothing to do with the shallow, fleeting thrills she experienced when drinking or spending a night out. This excitement reached her heart and curled up comfortably there.

“I don’t bear a grudge against you. I never have.” His warm voice was the perfect match for that little kiss. There was chastity in that kiss and sin in his gaze. “But it breaks my heart to know you suffered, too, and didn’t have a true friend next to you.”

“It’s not as dramatic as I let you think. Marianne has always been ready to help me. My parents would have helped me as well, had I let them. But at the same time, I think my wild years are part of a journey I had to take alone.” She caressed the line of his strong jaw, feeling the light stubble. “I confess I feel the need to do something wild and lose myself, not to think even now. It’s like a drug.”

“I know. I was you a long time ago.” He leant into her palm. “Will you resume your studies?”

She stiffened and removed her hand because one thing was to admit her past mistakes and make amends. Picking up her medical books was quite another. She doubted she had the skills to become a doctor. That dream was long gone.

“I’m not sure.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

“Nothing of the sort.” Her lost opportunity upset her. “It’s difficult for me. It’s too late. I missed the opportunity to get a medical career.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “It’s not too late. You only need time to realise that.”

Not picking up studying was what she wanted; she wondered if it was what she needed.