10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“ I ’ve never seen an uglier arse in my life.”

Adelaide scowled at Will, then looked back at the donkey dragging them along the rutted road. “Phyllis is not ugly, she’s just… in need of proper nourishment.” She sniffed. “And perhaps a bath.” She watched him closely, hoping for a smile or at least a moment of acknowledgement, but his eyes didn’t leave the track.

He’d barely spoken after the thrill of the low-speed getaway from Saltford, and while the adventure had made her blood rush almost as much as it had the night before, he’d appeared pale and aggrieved. She hadn’t inquired about his conversation with Saltford’s blacksmith, as he’d told her to stay in the cart while he spoke with the man.

“Will you still be able to do your apprenticeship?” she’d asked breathlessly before he’d even climbed onto the bench.

His lips flattened, and he didn’t meet her gaze. “Depends how long I’m gone.” He hadn’t said another word on the matter.

All the more reason for them to hurry to Barrington. But the uncertainty, the pervasive worry that he was angry with her, made her skin crawl.

Of course he wouldn’t laugh or chat with her. This wasn’t a merry drive in the countryside, but an unwanted diversion that gave him nothing but hassles. Will had no desire to be part of her adventure, and had given up something he wanted to help her.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. Well, his elbow. The man was dratted tall. “You look good as an outlaw.”

He looked down at her then, his expression unyielding. “Outlaw?”

She winked. “You stole an apple cart. The donkey was an accomplice.”

“You paid for it, assuming no one steals the bracelet before the owner finds it.” His nose wrinkled. “Why do you call her Phyllis?”

The tension in her shoulders eased. Perhaps he didn’t hate her. “I had a governess with that name as a girl, and I thought it suited her. Have you ever met a Phyllis?”

“Not one who needed a bath so much.”

She laughed and slipped her hand around his elbow, but he stiffened at the contact and she withdrew it. She’d been unwilling to ride in the back of the cart, and the driver’s bench was narrow enough that she had no choice but to press her hips against his; otherwise, her arse would be hanging off the edge. “Are we… not going to talk about what happened last night?”

His eye twitched. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

Her stomach dropped, but she lifted her chin and stared ahead. Perhaps she had judged him too quickly, thought he would be gentle with her feelings. She was always a fool that way. “I understand.” She sniffed. “I apologize for not… not seeing you to fulfillment, but—”

Will cursed and tugged Phyllis’s reins toward the side of the road. Once the cart had stopped, he turned to face her. “That’s not why I—” He huffed, shook his head. “You’re getting married , Adelaide. I never should have put a hand on you.”

“I told you what my marriage will mean.” Lord, were those tears welling in her eyes? How humiliating. “I doubt my husband will ever put his hands on me. So you do not need to feel guilty.”

“Christ, Adelaide, if you were mine—” He clenched his jaw, then swung down from the cart, hitting the ground in a cloud of dust.

She scrambled off the bench and ran around the cart to face him. “If I were yours…” she prompted, waving her hands in a circular motion to urge him to continue.

His nostrils flared. “It doesn’t matter.”

Taking his hand, she laced her fingers between his. His bronzed skin, weathered and worn, bore such a stark contrast to her pale, plump digits. “What you think matters, Will. What you want matters to me.”

He studied her, saying nothing, and Adelaide wished she had the power to compel him to share the inner workings of his mind. But she knew this taciturn man, this strong, fearsome giant who treated her with more kindness and respect than any gentleman she’d ever met, wouldn’t burden her with his thoughts.

She squeezed his hand and released it. “You’ve never shown me anything you’ve made in your smithy. Do you have…”

But he was already moving to the back of the cart, reaching past her trunk for his canvas bag. He hesitated, then withdrew something the size and shape of a dinner plate and held it out for her inspection.

Her breath caught as she reached out, ran her fingers over the solid metal. Cast iron leaves and branches spiraled out from a central point to the crenulated edge, set on four metal beads. The artistry’s subtlety stood at odds with the weight, the strength of the piece. “It’s… beautiful,” she whispered.

When she looked up, his cheeks had turned pink. “A trivet. It took me several tries to get the technique right, and here—” he took her finger and ran it over a bump on one edge, “—I let the metal cool too much before I shaped it.” He shrugged, but his eyes were too bright for her to dismiss the gesture. He didn’t let go of her hand. “I hope I can do more work like this. I could have made a thousand nails with far less frustration, but…”

When he looked at her, his expression was wistful.

She ran her fingers along the edge, over the mistake that she never would have noticed had he not pointed it out. “Beautiful things can serve a purpose, too.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat, squeezed his hand. “That’s what I want for myself, to serve a purpose in the world. My husband will have no hold over my heart or my body.”

Will lifted their joined hands, pressed a kiss to the space where their smallest fingers intertwined. “I’ll get you to Barrington in time for your wedding.”

Something deep in her chest howled, lashed out with its furious claws and shoved the breath from her lungs. But whatever connection she and Will had forged was fleeting, already broken by their circumstances. Knowing from the start that they were destined to part made this special somehow, obligated her to acknowledge and accept its fragility, its temporal nature.

She forced a smile to her lips. “Then we should get back on the road.”