Her eyes never left his. “You,” she said quietly but firmly, “are not my keeper. Sometimes I wonder if you are even my friend. Well…I’m your friend, whether you want me or not. I care about you, and if that causes you discomfort, sir, you will have to be discomforted. Do I make myself—”
The word clear never was uttered.
For Matthew Corbett felt a wall within him crack and give way, just a little, and the sliver of warm light that came through that crack caused him to put his hand to the back of Berry’s neck and kiss her full upon the lips.
It was a scandalous moment. Such things were just not done, in this sudden uncomplicated way. But Berry did not retreat, and her lips softened beneath Matthew’s, and perhaps her mouth responded and urged the kiss to be longer and deeper than Matthew had first intended. However it happened, the kiss went on. Matthew felt a thrill of excitement. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if she felt the same. When his lips at last left hers she made a soft whisper that might have been either a breathy exhalation of surprise or an entreaty for continuation of this intimate discussion. He looked into her eyes and saw the sparkle of diamonds. She wore a sleepy expression, as if she suddenly was in need of the bed.
It hit him what he’d just done. He removed his hand from the back of Berry’s neck, but she didn’t move away. He was appalled at his adventurous conduct; it was terribly wrong, and terribly ungentlemanly of him. He had the sensation, however, that Berry did not share his inexactitudes, for she gazed upon him as if he had just stepped down from a star.
He did it to silence her, he decided. Yes. She was getting a little too loud, and her voice might have carried to the house across the way. Yes. That’s why he’d done it. No other reason. And now he was shamed by it, but it had served his purpose.
“Be quiet ,” he said, though he didn’t know why he said that since Berry wasn’t speaking and it seemed she couldn’t find her voice anyway.
A latch was thrown. Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw the door opening. Instinctively, he put an arm across Berry to shield her from injury. Someone was leaving the house. It was the woman. Aria To-Be-Named-Later. She wore a full-skirted gown under a purple cloak, and on her head was a matching purple hat with mink earmuffs. She turned to the right and walked briskly away from the house, following Nassau Street toward town. Her boots crunched on the hammered bits of oyster shells that covered the street, for Lord Cornbury had not yet seen fit to release public money for the laying of cobblestones in this area.
Over oyster shells, cobblestones or horse figs, Aria Whomever was walking as if she had somewhere very important to go. Matthew reasoned her destination was likely the Dock House Inn, where she might give a message to Gilliam Vincent for the East Indian giant in room number four. However it was coded, the message would be: Matthew Corbett did not obey .
Good for Matthew Corbett, he thought. But possibly bad for the building owners of New York?
Berry grasped his hand. “What is it?” She was whispering, for she’d also caught the scent of danger. “Are the Mallorys involved?”
“Involved in what?” His own whisper equalled hers.
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m asking. What are they involved in?”
Matthew watched the door. It didn’t open again. The doctor was staying inside on such a wintry night. Best to let the female snake slither along Nassau Steeet to do this job.
“The Mallorys,” Berry insisted. “Are you listening to me?”
“No,” he said, and caught himself. “ Yes . I mean…” He looked into her eyes once more. The diamonds had diminished; an excitement not for him but for the intrigue of the evening had for the moment pushed everything else aside. It was, however, equally as intense. “I can’t tell you why,” he said, “but I know the Mallorys have something to
The word clear never was uttered.
For Matthew Corbett felt a wall within him crack and give way, just a little, and the sliver of warm light that came through that crack caused him to put his hand to the back of Berry’s neck and kiss her full upon the lips.
It was a scandalous moment. Such things were just not done, in this sudden uncomplicated way. But Berry did not retreat, and her lips softened beneath Matthew’s, and perhaps her mouth responded and urged the kiss to be longer and deeper than Matthew had first intended. However it happened, the kiss went on. Matthew felt a thrill of excitement. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if she felt the same. When his lips at last left hers she made a soft whisper that might have been either a breathy exhalation of surprise or an entreaty for continuation of this intimate discussion. He looked into her eyes and saw the sparkle of diamonds. She wore a sleepy expression, as if she suddenly was in need of the bed.
It hit him what he’d just done. He removed his hand from the back of Berry’s neck, but she didn’t move away. He was appalled at his adventurous conduct; it was terribly wrong, and terribly ungentlemanly of him. He had the sensation, however, that Berry did not share his inexactitudes, for she gazed upon him as if he had just stepped down from a star.
He did it to silence her, he decided. Yes. She was getting a little too loud, and her voice might have carried to the house across the way. Yes. That’s why he’d done it. No other reason. And now he was shamed by it, but it had served his purpose.
“Be quiet ,” he said, though he didn’t know why he said that since Berry wasn’t speaking and it seemed she couldn’t find her voice anyway.
A latch was thrown. Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw the door opening. Instinctively, he put an arm across Berry to shield her from injury. Someone was leaving the house. It was the woman. Aria To-Be-Named-Later. She wore a full-skirted gown under a purple cloak, and on her head was a matching purple hat with mink earmuffs. She turned to the right and walked briskly away from the house, following Nassau Street toward town. Her boots crunched on the hammered bits of oyster shells that covered the street, for Lord Cornbury had not yet seen fit to release public money for the laying of cobblestones in this area.
Over oyster shells, cobblestones or horse figs, Aria Whomever was walking as if she had somewhere very important to go. Matthew reasoned her destination was likely the Dock House Inn, where she might give a message to Gilliam Vincent for the East Indian giant in room number four. However it was coded, the message would be: Matthew Corbett did not obey .
Good for Matthew Corbett, he thought. But possibly bad for the building owners of New York?
Berry grasped his hand. “What is it?” She was whispering, for she’d also caught the scent of danger. “Are the Mallorys involved?”
“Involved in what?” His own whisper equalled hers.
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m asking. What are they involved in?”
Matthew watched the door. It didn’t open again. The doctor was staying inside on such a wintry night. Best to let the female snake slither along Nassau Steeet to do this job.
“The Mallorys,” Berry insisted. “Are you listening to me?”
“No,” he said, and caught himself. “ Yes . I mean…” He looked into her eyes once more. The diamonds had diminished; an excitement not for him but for the intrigue of the evening had for the moment pushed everything else aside. It was, however, equally as intense. “I can’t tell you why,” he said, “but I know the Mallorys have something to
Similar Books
