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He drew a breath and took a chance, raising his hand to reach for her tentatively.

Triumph swelled his chest when Caroline came willingly into his arms. Her hazel eyes were luminous in the dim firelight, and when her lips parted with a soft sigh, it was the only invitation he needed.

William wrapped an arm around her slight waist, drawing her close before cupping her face in his hands. He tilted her head back, brushing his mouth over hers with aching reverence, then deepened the kiss with fervent longing.

Caroline clutched the fabric of his shirt, her fingers curling there as she pressed close, returning his kiss with quiet intensity. Her lips were soft, and the moment lingered, tender and full of feeling. What passed between them was not mere attraction—it was connection. It was hope. It felt like the first spark of something lasting and true. But did she feel it too?

Chapter 7

The Crescendo

Several minutes passed as she fought to recover her breath, seated at his side while she slowly descended from the heights of magical kisses. Eventually, she rose to tidy herself and pull her night rail back into place. Embarrassment was setting in.

What have I done?

She had kissed a man with unseemly enthusiasm. A man who was not her husband. Again.

A hand came up to rub the ache in her chest.

This served only to prove she was weak. An unchaste woman.

She handed William a clean cloth, unable to meet his eyes, before walking over to the other settee to retrieve her wrap. As she lifted the garment, she heard William settle back behind her.

“Join me?”

Caroline stared down at the embroidered fabric in her hand, uncertain how to respond or make sense of his request.

“Please?”

Tears sprang to her eyes. This was unprecedented. Did the blacksmith truly wish to hold her? Just hold her? She glanced toward him. His blue eyes were earnest in the low firelight, and as before she saw admiration—perhaps even affection—shining in his gaze.

Without quite making the decision, she drifted closer. William shifted over, creating space and lifting an arm in invitation. Caroline did not know what to make of it, but the urge to settle beside him was impossible to resist. She lay down carefully, wrapping a slender arm across his chest.

The blacksmith tucked her head beneath his chin, his muscled arm curling around her in a gentle, protective embrace. After a few moments, it became clear he had fallen asleep, his breathing even and deep. Caroline listened to the steady thrum of his heart beneath her ear, the heat of his body seeping into hers, and felt astonishment.

William seemed to regard her with genuine esteem. Shame, which had burned so hotly, slowly began to dissipate.

She had broken her vow not to grow close to anyone. Caroline knew from past mistakes that she could not be trusted to protect what mattered most, but just for tonight, she would allow herself this fleeting reprieve. The blacksmith seemed to like her. More than that, he had seen something in her that others had not.

She would clutch this moment—however ephemeral—and hold it tightly until the world reclaimed them both.

Yes, she was weak. She had proven that. But for one night only, she wanted to forget her failings and accept the comfort of William’s embrace. The slow rhythm of his heart, beating steadily beneath her cheek, lulled her toward sleep.

When she awakened, the room was dim with the hush of a winter morning. The candle had burned down, and the fire was no more than glowing embers. She stirred slightly, intending to rise, but William grumbled in his sleep and pulled her closer.

Caroline blinked rapidly in confusion.

Is this what it is like to be married to a kind man? To be cherished?

Work, Caroline! Do not get any ideas about love and companionship!

She lay perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe. The notion was so very tempting. Yet the familiar mental refrain—work is safety—held no comfort this morning. She did not wish to return to reality. Not yet.

William smelled of leather and fire, of soap and metal. She nestled in closer, and this time, it was with intention. In the warmth of his arms, she felt—at last—safe.

When she awoke again, she found William pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She looked up into his eyes, blue and steady, and he smiled at her—a soft, intimate smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes—before gently kissing her brow.

“I am afraid I need privacy,” he whispered.