It's Always Been You by Victoria Dahl Page B

couldn’t be right, because she was a married woman. Granted, he’d taken a shameful number of married women to his bed, but this was Katie .
    Snow began to fall, and Aidan absentmindedly donned his hat, still eyeing the workers.
    Kate was not just a thoughtless means of distracting himself for a few hours. She was not just a body. And she was clearly not experienced at this type of affair. She’d been thinking of repercussions before the kiss had ended.
    Still, there’d been no denial at his guess about her marriage. If she’d loved the man once, she did not love him now. She likely didn’t love Aidan either, but she felt something. Nostalgia, or infatuation, or pure and simple lust. Need tightened his groin at the thought.
    What the hell was he going to do? She’d snuck inside him, and now he could see the danger he’d overlooked. He’d been hollow for so long, and the space inside him had been cut out in her shape. How could she not fit perfectly?
    “Mr. York!” The bright feminine voice pierced his brooding thoughts. For one painful heartbeat, Aidan thought it was Katie. And it wasn’t anything like lust that made his pulse tumble.
    But as he turned, his heart tripping with anticipation, he saw Lucy Cain hurrying toward them, her cheeks pink with the cold. Her smile was wide and welcoming and he felt churlish for his disappointment.
    “Miss Cain,” he said, sweeping his hat off to bow. “What a pleasure.”
    “Look at you, Mr. York. Why, I think you’re even more handsome in the snow.”
    He winked as he rose, then tilted his hat toward Penrose.
    “May I introduce my secretary, Mr. Penrose?”
    Penrose blushed as Miss Cain offered her hand and a saucy smile. “An honor, miss.”
    “So polite. You must bring him to luncheon today, Mr. York.”
    “Luncheon?”
    “You see, my father wondered if you could join us. I think he’s discovered how rich you are.”
    Aidan laughed. Yes, this girl reminded him of Katie in so many ways. “I would love to join you for luncheon. Mr. Penrose?”
    “Yes,” Penrose stammered. “Of course. Without a doubt.”
    “Then, Miss Cain, shall we?” He offered his arm, feeling a lightness in his chest as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve. He had a brief, searing hope that Kate would be at the Cain’s when he arrived but pushed it away. She was a married woman. It would do neither of them good to be seen so much together.
    But he could think of her as often as he liked. No one could keep him from that.
     
     
    Hard pellets of snow tinked against the windows as Kate drew swirls and circles on a torn piece of paper, idly considering when to kill her husband. The planning felt cruel, despite that Mr. Hamilton had never existed. As for David . . . he’d been dead nearly nine months now. It could not matter to him.
    She’d wanted to wait a year after arriving in England before declaring herself widowed, but things felt so different now. And her business was doing tolerably well. She’d chosen the location so carefully. A town small enough to have escaped the notice of another dedicated coffee merchant, but prosperous enough that certain households would demand the finest roasts and blends. Four local estates had already paid her a generous amount to secure their own private roast, available to no one else. It was exactly what she’d hoped for.
    But now she was beginning to tire of the masquerade of marriage. She could put out word any time that her husband had died of a sudden fever. Everyone in England seemed to think the Orient was rife with deadly dangers, after all. No one would doubt that a man might fall over twitching and gasping with no warning at all.
    So she could get rid of Mr. Hamilton, but there was the larger problem to be faced. What about Gerard Gallow? She didn’t think she’d hurt him badly that night. She hoped that the sickening crack she’d heard had been only the bottle and not his skull. But he’d fallen so hard to the floor. Still,