Free It's Always Been You by Victoria Dahl Page B

escaped if there had been someone to run to. If she’d had hope, she would’ve found a way to make her way back to him. But she had stayed. Stayed and faded.
    Oh, it had eaten at her heart for long hours—the thought of what could have been. But after that first endless night of trembling hands and raw emotions, she’d forced herself to calm. She was fine now. Just fine.
    Avoiding the front door—and Mr. Wilson’s prying eyes—Kate passed through the mouth of the alley, counting on the brightness of the snow for visibility. A few feet in, a prickle of unease swept over her skin, but she ignored it. These days found her curiously unafraid of physical danger. She’d sailed alone all the way from Ceylon with little thought for her safety. The leering looks of the sailors had been easily quelled by cold stares of her own. The men seemed able to sense her impervious contempt of them, and they’d left her alone. It was almost like magic, this fearlessness. A strange magic though, since it had failed her in the face of Aidan York.
    “Kate.”
    She jumped, and for a moment she fell into a well of fear. It was him, her stepson, come to confess his awful love for her again. Come to threaten her with his awful lies. She slid a foot back, preparing to race away.
    “Kate, it’s me.”
    Finally, she registered the familiar voice. Aidan. Not Gerard. A chill shivered through her body, setting her hair on end as she searched the shadows for Aidan. He finally took a step forward, revealing himself.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth.
    “I have something for you.”
    She took three shallow breaths, then shook her head in exasperation. “Aidan, you can’t be here. You have to go.”
    His forehead furrowed into a frown as he glanced around with concern. “Is something wrong?”
    “Ha! Yes, there’s something wrong.”
    Obviously worried, he stepped toward her as if to take her arm, but she pulled quickly back and turned to the door. Her mind turned frantically, trying to find a way to make him go and stay gone, but her brain refused to offer a solution. With no idea what to do, she found herself moving through the door with him close on her heels. Clutching the folds of her cloak around her as protection, she turned and met his gaze. His eyes were expectant, his mouth grim and beautiful.
    Trying to ignore the sudden silence between them, Kate busied herself with lighting a lamp. She didn’t know what she was hoping for—the floor to open up and swallow him whole? It seemed unlikely that he would show a sudden desire to depart after waiting in the snow for her. His eyelids dropped almost imperceptibly.
    “Oh, very well,” she muttered in resignation, and removed her cloak, holding out her hand for his coat. She was rewarded with a wide smile as well as his wet garments. A glance at the stove showed her kettle still steaming on the warm top. “Tea? It’s a bit late for coffee.”
    “Tea would be wonderful.”
    She took her time preparing the tea tray, aware, all the while, of his eyes on her. What did he see? Who did he think she was?
    Without a word, she picked up the tray and headed up the stairs; he followed with the lamp.
    “Let me get the fire.” He was already kneeling at the small stove, striking a flame. It was completely inappropriate that he be here, in her private rooms, but that horse was already miles from the barn. Still, his presence disturbed her.
    “I thought you’d gone to London.” Turning away from tending the tea, she made no attempt to pretend happiness at his arrival.
    “I did. I returned to check the repairs on my ship.”
    His ship? She would not ask him about himself. Instead, Kate perched tensely on one of the small chairs and poured tea as he took the seat opposite. The width of the table between them was a relief.
    “I have something of yours. I thought I would bring it to you as I was returning to town anyway.”
    “I’m sure that wasn’t