Emotion surged over her. Her body wouldn’t stop quivering. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been waiting to hear these words. How much she’d needed to hear them from him.
“Wh-why do you believe me now?”
He shrugged, discomfited. “I am five years older. Not so quick to presume, I should hope. I misjudged you, and for that I apologize.”
“That means a lot to me.” Her chin quivered, and a stinging sensation prickled behind her eyes. Mercy, she couldn’t allow herself to break down and weep in front of Asher. She dug her fingers into the workbench and made herself stand straight. “After the things you said, I thought you would never forgive me.”
The lines around his mouth deepened. “I’m in no position to grant forgiveness. I’ve always deplored my father’s excessive piety, and yet when it came to you, I displayed the exact same righteous anger I abhorred. You deserved better than that.”
The choler he’d once held for her was now aimed at himself. Asher had exacting standards of behavior, and it didn’t sit well with him to fall short.
“Your fury was quite justified. My father swindled you out of so much. It was reasonable of you to suspect I was involved.”
He grimaced. “But not reasonable the way I refused to hear you out.”
But she hadn’t protested enough, she realized, because she’d never truly believed they would marry. His family would eventually persuade him otherwise, she’d told herself, and so their liaison could only ever be fleeting. Accordingly, she hadn’t fought with all her might to overcome his prideful anger. Instead she’d meekly let him walk out of her life. In a way, she was just as much to blame as he.
“I never understood why you didn’t fight for your rights. Why you let my father get away without any protest. You could have publicly denounced him, but you didn’t. I always wondered why.”
He sighed, and as he rubbed his finger along the edge of the bench, the grooves in his face lessened. “I left in high dudgeon. I refused to lower myself to Silas’s level. And also, I have to confess, I didn’t want to become embroiled in a public scandal and have my family’s prejudices reinforced. More fool me.”
She thought of everything he had lost. More than his invention, he had lost his innocence. His belief in people had been scarred. His belief in himself had been shaken. He’d changed, but for the better, she now saw. This Asher was more mature, more astute. Now he was fully his own man.
“But enough of me.” His voice muted as he shifted within an inch of her. “I’m concerned about you, about your future.”
The sensitivity in his eyes made her weak at the knees. She could feel all his magic working on her again, more potent than before, but she strove to keep her voice light. “You’re already doing so much for me. You needn’t concern yourself with my future.”
He moved swiftly, cupping her chin in his fingers before she knew what was happening. “Why is that? Is it because Dorian Monk figures in your future?”
The warmth of his fingers sent a frisson chasing over her. His touch thrilled her in a thoroughly unladylike manner. She wanted to melt into his arms, to lose herself in him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered huskily, fighting to stay in control.
His eyes had always mesmerized her. Now, they glimmered with an ice-hot glow. “Has he asked you to marry him?”
She gasped and pulled away. “Of course not!”
“Oh.” The expression on his face altered. “Why not?”
“Surely that’s a question I’m in no position to answer?”
He gripped the workbench on either side of her, pinning her between his arms. “Minerva, coyness doesn’t suit you. You know very well how Dorian Monk feels toward you. I hadn’t met him two minutes when I knew too. He looked and acted toward you as a man does toward his betrothed. Don’t try to tell me you’re unaware of his intentions.”
His plain speaking made her bridle. “I wonder if it’s any of your business what Dorian’s intentions are.”
His hands on the bench bunched into tight fists. Why was she trying to provoke Asher? Did she want to make him jealous of Dorian’s interest in her? Surely not. No, she simply wanted to retain her self-possession while she remained trapped between his arms.
He glowered at her a few more moments before releasing her. He picked up the mechanical hand again and examined it in brooding silence. Her pulse wouldn’t stop pounding. She should have been relieved not to be imprisoned by him…and yet she wasn’t.
“Dorian is a friend of mine, that’s all,” she felt compelled to say. “And he views me as nothing more, despite your conjecture. He’s never hinted at anything more.”
He shot her a dark look. “Perhaps he possesses more finesse than I give him credit for. The man’s father is your landlord and your creditor. In such circumstances, how could he propose to you without it smacking of coercion?”
Even as she gaped at him, she knew he was right. She had noticed Dorian’s regard of her. He was a confident, fine-looking man with manners to match, and the way he bore his artificial hand only added to his attractiveness. With his family’s prosperity flowing abundantly from the cotton mills, Dorian could have had his pick of countless eager young women. Yet he sought out her company and frequently visited her, showing every sign of being smitten with her. On one or two occasions, she had feared he would even declare himself, but he’d never taken that leap, and despite her relief, she’d sometimes wondered why. Now she knew the answer.
“You’re in a presumptuous mood tonight,” she retorted. “First you tell me to leave my father and set up shop myself, and now you presume to know who my suitors are better than I do.”
“I can’t help myself.” Asher grimaced. “I’ve tried very hard not to, but I’ve always felt…bound to you.”
“You needn’t. I absolve you of all responsibility for me.”
He gripped her by the shoulders. “Bound is the wrong word. Perhaps I meant attached.”
Dear heavens, why wouldn’t her heart stop clattering against her ribs? She moistened her dry lips. She would surely drown in the pure green depths of his eyes if she didn’t say something at once. “I—I’m not your chattel.”
The scent of him ensnared her—he smelt of night air and robust masculinity. His hands on her were insistent yet gentle at the same time, molding her shoulders as a hundred unreadable emotions flitted across his set features.
“No, you’re not, but perhaps I am yours.”
He bent his head toward her. Her mouth tingled, already anticipating—yearning for! —the feel of his lips on hers, the fire of his kiss burning away all her restraint. Lightning desire flared in her blood, followed by a swift kick of alarm. Jerking her arm up, she fended him off.
“Don’t do this.” She could only hiss. “Don’t open up old wounds. I couldn’t bear it.”
“It’s agony for me too, but I can’t help myself.” His voice shook too.
“You must! The past is over and done with. We cannot revisit an old chapter.”
His eyes flashed with defiance. “Why not?”
The force of his conviction agitated her. He sounded so adamant, but she couldn’t ignore the crows of doubt pecking at her. “You don’t know? Isn’t it obvious? We’re both so different now. We’ve changed in so many ways. We can never be those people we were five years ago.”
“Yes, we’re different. We’re better, stronger, freer. Minerva, there’s nothing to stop us now—”
“You’re speaking utter nonsense.” Indignation braced her. Five years ago he’d jilted her without remorse, and now he thought he could pick up where they’d left off, simply because he wanted to. What arrogance. His desertion had caused her much anguish, and she’d vowed never to get so carried away again with any man. Now Asher’s whole being blazed with passion, an inferno that would crumble her defenses if she let him near her. She had to get rid of him before she committed another folly with him. “Please leave my room and never speak of this again.”
She went to pass him, but he shifted his stance and remained obdurately planted in front of her. “We’ve both made mistakes in the past, but now’s our chance to learn from them—”
“That is precisely what I am doing.” She barged her way past him and flung open the door. “I refuse to make the same mistake twice.”
“A mistake?” His mouth compressed. “Are you saying I was a mistake?”
Trembling, she leaned against the door. “Please leave, Asher.”
He stood-stock still, the fire dying from his face. Her resolve faltered as the ardor withered from him. No woman in her right mind would turn a man like Asher away. Could she be making a colossal mistake here? Instead of sending him away, should she surrender to her longing and grab on to him? Before she could decide, he stalked out the room.
Chapter Six
The instructions arrived in the morning post. There were only two lines: