destroyed her world so carelessly.
“Why don’t we take a walk?” Owen said, smiling up as their plates were removed. “The rain has passed and the moon came out. It might do us both some good to take in a little fresh air.”
Celeste shifted. The idea of taking a walk in the moonlight with this man felt intimate and a little dangerous. But she also longed for it. “Very well.”
She rose and took the arm he offered. It was impossible not to be very aware of how strong that same arm was. She hadn’t touched him before, save for a few glances of his hand on hers. Under all those proper layers was a solid man, muscular. Why was her heart racing so fast?
She tried to draw a full breath as she allowed him to lead them from the inn. They walked down the lane together in the still, cool night, and she tried desperately not to tremble from being so near to him. She was no wanton—she didn’t want to display as such.
“Th-thank you for thinking of a walk,” she managed to croak out when the silence seemed to stretch out forever and become heavy.
“You looked troubled at the end of supper,” he explained softly, then glanced down at her. “What can I do?”
She almost laughed. The man seemed created to solve problems. Put others at ease. It was very attractive, of course. Too attractive, just like everything else about him.
“I suppose I cannot lie and say I’m not troubled. I’m only trying to picture how this will all work…and I’m afraid I’m failing,” she said with a sigh as she broke away from him so she could think more clearly. “It’s such an untenable situation. I am a widow…except I’m not, because my marriage was never real. Am I expected to wear black and give a proper time of mourning? To gnash my teeth and display some emotional breakdown? Where do I stand anymore?”
“Do you feel sorry he is gone?” Owen asked.
She pivoted to face him and swallowed hard. Would he judge her for what she was about to say? “I’m sorry he was murdered. That is a terrible thing. But I will not miss him, if that is what you mean. We were practically strangers and I resented him every moment he was my husband.” She threw up her hands. “I have no idea about my place in this world now.”
She heard the wavering of her voice, felt the edge of tears sting her eyes. She moved to hide it, but it was too late. Owen had seen through her, and he caught her hand and drew her back toward him before she could escape. She staggered a little and he caught her elbows, drawing her tighter to his chest to steady her.
She found herself staring up at him, haloed in moonlight, that handsome face not lit with a smile at present, not warm with comfort, but dark with something else. Something that called to the same in her. Made her want things she shouldn’t. Not with a stranger. Not in this horrible, twisted moment in time.
She ought to have pulled away. She didn’t. She stood there as his lips parted and he let out a low, ragged exhale. He wanted her. She knew it in that moment in a way she’d never felt with any other man before. He wanted her even though they’d only just met and he’d come to blow her world to smithereens.
She wanted him too. Perhaps because he was so solid. Perhaps because he didn’t really know her. Perhaps because she just wanted something nice or to steal a moment for herself. Why not? Everything was ruined anyway.
She lifted on her tiptoes, flattening her palms on his chest as she tilted her head and brushed her lips to his. She kissed him as he stood there, perfectly still, then less than perfectly still as his mouth moved just a fraction beneath hers. She felt the power of him. The strength that he held back as he captured her forearms in his hands.
And pushed her away gently.
“I’m sorry, Celeste,” he murmured.
Her heart sank and blood rushed to heat her cheeks as she pulled from his grip. “I should say those words, not you. I ought not to have done that.”
There was a long pause, as if he were contemplating that thought. Then he caught her hands in his, squeezing gently in what she supposed was meant to be a gesture of soothing or support.