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Instead, he cupped her face once more and whispered, “You bring me peace. And I do not wish to ruin that.”

In a daze, Caroline realized William was no longer kissing her. His head was rolled back on the settee arm as he panted for air, holding her head tenderly to him with a large hand that covered most of her crown. He was so powerful; she felt like a delicate fawn in his arms.

Listening to the thudding of his heart in his chest, she was amazed at what had just happened. She had never felt such closeness, scarcely able to grasp that he had stopped. Was he regretting their embrace? Or was he attempting to be a gentleman, halting his attentions at the edge of the wall of chastity she had spent years building?

Caroline did not know what to think. Her test of her resilience had not proven her moral fortitude had improved these past years, but she could not bring herself to regret the precious, stolen moments in William’s arms. She knew the regret would come, but not yet. Not while she listened to the fire crackle and his heart thunder. This—this closeness—was the nearest she had ever come to contentment.

As their breath gradually slowed, Caroline realized it was time to rise and break their embrace. How had such a fine specimen of manhood remained unmarried? Why was he not husband to an attractive young woman with several children already? She guessed he was a few years older than herself; old enough to be settled, and young enough to enjoy it.

If William was married, you would not be in his arms on Christmas Eve.

She shut her eyes in painful regret. That might not be true, given her past mistakes.

With that reminder, the past came rushing back, and Caroline recalled why she must stay away from virile men. She was not to be trusted. She did not trust herself.

Caroline gently pressed her palms to his chest and eased away, rising from the warmth of his arms. William let her go, and she could not decide whether to feel grateful or bereft.

Blast, this was why she stayed away from men. Because she turned into a dithering twit, as Lord Saunton had proved, and did stupid things just because she received a tidbit of male attentions.

She walked across the room and stood in front of the hearth, staring into the flames as if the answers to her character might be found flickering among the embers.

At last, she found her voice. “Would you like some tea?”

Truly? That is the first thing you could find to say?

Caroline squared her shoulders. It was the proper thing to say. Her voice had been calm, giving no hint of the inner turmoil lashing at her. She ought to behave as if nothing had occurred and simply carry out the task the doctor had entrusted her with.

Why did the holiday season dredge up so many private longings? If only it were a normal day, she could work on her walking dress and restore her equilibrium. On a normal day, the doctor would have found someone else to attend William Jackson, and she would not now be confronted with the humiliating truth that she remained the same flawed girl who had made a ruinous mistake two years ago. She had not matured at all. No, she had simply avoided situations where her poor judgment could do further damage.

No men, no opportunities to betray my friends. No friends, no risk of losing their regard.

Work was the only answer. Work kept her focused. Work kept her safe from herself.

William’s voice, hoarse and roughened by emotion, broke the silence. “That would be appreciated.”

Caroline gave a short nod and left the room to prepare the tea.

William had kissed the modiste.

Yet, he could not find it in him to regret it. She had resuscitated his dead heart and made it beat again. It was as though he had been a corpse walking for five years and suddenly awakened to discover an entire world of possibility.

He was grateful she had moved away and offered the tea, because the truth was, he was currently overcome. After years of detachment, he did not know what to do with the powerful feelings surging inside him. He needed time—time to accustom himself to this altered perspective.

What a revelation it was to discover that he had been punishing himself needlessly. He agreed with the dream version of Caroline—he would best honor Charles’s memory not through endless sorrow, but by respecting his cousin’s sacrifice and building a future while carrying him within his heart. But what did that mean?

Where do I go from here?

He had broken off the kiss because he did not know what path he was careening down. His soul had cried out at the interruption, yearning to remain in the arms of the remarkable woman who had opened his eyes. Who had spoken with such bright conviction and offered him hope, without realizing what her words would set into motion.

He needed to find his footing again.

This future that now stretched before him must be considered carefully. He could not involve another person—especially not someone like Caroline—in the midst of his confusion. He owed her more than a half-hearted affection born of gratitude and recent awakening.

But holding her had been an unadulterated delight. The kind of moment that settled into a man’s bones and never left. Still, it would not be fair to her. He had no plans to court or wed—not now. Not when he had only just stepped out of the prison of grief and guilt. After five long years, he had found his freedom. He needed to live in it a while before making any promises he might come to question. She had shown him what was possible, but the path ahead must be walked alone for now.

And what a question it was—what paths lay open?

His business was thriving, largely due to the very single-mindedness that had kept him emotionally numb. He was not lacking in income or resources. The issue was not whether he could change course, but rather how.