Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life) (33 page)

Johanna blinked, walking briskly to keep up with the pace he set. “Why?”

“Because it’s there. Because I think it’s romantic and I’ve always wanted to do it with the right woman.”

He felt the tension enter her body immediately. “She isn’t me.”

He stopped a few feet away from the first carriage. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Johanna, are you afraid of me?”

“No,” she said a bit too quickly, looking away.

“Then it’s you.”

She jerked her head up. “What?”

“You’re afraid of you,” he said simply, turning toward the first driver. He nodded his head and the old man straightened, taking a firmer hold of his horse’s reins. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you have your way with me. Unless, of course,” he helped her up into the carriage, “you intend to use brute force.”

The driver gave him a funny look before he turned around and flicked his whip far above the horse’s head. Johanna clutched to the seat. The leather felt old, cracked.

“You can relax any time now. I don’t think anyone will mug us,” Joshua assured her.

“I wasn’t thinking about muggers.”

“What were you thinking about?”

She licked her lower lip, searching for an answer.

“Don’t do that,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, his face a scant inch away from hers, “it makes me want to do this.” Cupping her chin in his hand, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Johanna stiffened, then something within her let go, even while she argued with herself to hang on. And then suddenly she was, hanging on for dear life as she wove her fingers into his hair and parted her lips in unconscious invitation.

Joshua took it slow, very, very slow. He knew that his footing could slip at any moment and then he would have to retrace his steps again. He didn’t know if his control could last out a second journey to this small triumph.

Chapter Thirty-four

Johanna’s entire body felt tense, rigid, excited. She had to think about breathing. Her hands were trembling. Instead of being in her lap, they were holding onto the lapels of his jacket as if they had a life of their own. With concentrated effort, she forced her fingers to relax, letting go of Joshua’s jacket. Her heart was hammering in her ears. He toyed with a tendril at her temple and it made her feel warm. And frightened, very, very frightened.

“Joshua, please.”

“Please yes or please no?” He saw the fear again and humor left his eyes. Harry shimmered beside him like a specter he couldn’t best. “Johanna, for God’s sake, let go.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I made a mistake once and I’m scared to death…”

“That it’ll happen again?”
 

She nodded.
 

“I’m not Harry, Johanna.”

“I know that.” She looked away.

“Do you?” He took her chin and turned her head toward him so that she had to look into his eyes. “Do you really?”

She took a deep breath. There was no hiding things from him. He knew her too well. “Fear isn’t logical, Joshua. It just is.”

“But it’s illogical to let it ruin any chance for happiness. Our chance for happiness. You kissed me back, Johanna.” There had been feeling in her kiss. It wasn’t perfunctory.

A small smile played on her lips. “Reflexes. A stone would have kissed you back.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment—and a start.” He glided his fingers along her cheek. “I could kill him.”

He meant it. The words were said quietly, but there was no mistaking the intent, the heat, the rage. Johanna stared at him, stunned. She had never known him to express anger before. “What?”

“He took the light out of your eyes, Johanna. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it was both our fault.”

Damn the man, damn him for making her feel some sort of misguided loyalty to him. She might tell herself that she and Harry were equally to blame for what had happened, but Joshua knew better.

“You don’t believe that.” He said it more for himself than for her.

“No, I don’t. I was just trying to be—“

“Noble?” he suggested.

“Stupid,” she answered honestly. She stared out into the inky night. The park looked solemn at night, solemn and quiet. All she heard was the sound of the horse’s hooves as they made contact with the ground.

“Yes, that’s a good word for it,” Joshua agreed after a beat.

She turned, surprised. “What?”

Though he wanted to slip his arm around her, go on holding her and just absorbing the night sounds, he faced her. “Johanna, I’m not an idiot. I know that what I read about Harry in the papers isn’t gospel, but seeing you tells me that there was a lot of truth in the articles. He hurt you. A lot. It’s going to take time for you to heal. I understand that. Now you understand that I care.”

She looked out again, wishing she were someone else, wishing she wasn’t afraid. But there was no changing what she was. “You’re rushing me.”

“Fifteen years is not rushing.”

“Fifteen years?” That didn’t make any sense. That was when she had first met Harry. “I don’t understand.”

“That was just the trouble. You didn’t.” He took her hand, not to force her to commit, but just because he needed to touch her, to maintain contact as he spoke. “I was head over heels in love with you from the time you knocked over my easel that first day in art.”

“I dropped paint all over your shoes,” she remembered, a grin rising to her lips. “They were absolutely ruined.”

“That’s not the only thing you ruined. You ruined me for any other woman.”

My God, he was serious
. And she hadn’t known. All this time, and she hadn’t known. She thought about the paintings Jocelyn said he had in his bedroom. Paintings of her. It all made sense now.

“But I didn’t do anything, Joshua.”

“Oh, now there you’re wrong. Your size six shoes waltzed into my heart with that first flash of your quirky little smile.” He touched the corner of her mouth that always lifted higher than the other side when she smiled. “Besides, you liked my painting.”

“Guilt,” she quipped, at a loss for an answer to what he was telling her.

“I prefer to think it was taste.”

Another time, another place, it would have worked. But she was tired, used, disillusioned. “Joshua, I can’t give you what you want.”

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me.”

She looked down at her hands. He was making this hard. “I don’t feel anything for you.”

“Look at me when you say it.”

She raised her head. “I—“ She faltered. “Joshua, please, you don’t understand.”

“I do.” He wove his arms around her. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He kissed her again and all the neat little arguments faded into the recesses of her mind. She didn’t think why it couldn’t work, she didn’t think that it might. She just didn’t think at all and let herself feel just for this moment in time.

The wave was powerful, pushing her over the edge. He pulled all the air out of her lungs until she heard herself gasping. It felt as if she was savoring the substance of life itself in his kiss.

But she knew she wasn’t. It just didn’t work that way. She had been painfully taught that.

There was an attraction between them, she couldn’t deny it. But this was different from the way it had been with Tommy. With Tommy she had known that there was a limit, an end in sight, and so she didn’t have to be afraid of it. It was understood. Here, Joshua wouldn’t be satisfied with just a casual affair, even if she could be. She was afraid that he’d ask her for more than she could give. She didn’t want to lose the friend by turning away the lover, but she was going to have to.

She pulled back, though her fingers still clutched at his shirt, for warmth, for steadiness. “I need time.”

She was shaken. Even in the dim light, he could see the look of smoky desire in her eyes. He’d wait this out. “Okay, nobody ever said I wasn’t fair.”

She touched his face. “Joshua.”

He turned her hand over until her palm was up and his kissed it. “Let’s go home before I remember that promises made in hansom cabs are non-binding on Thursday nights.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, wishing she was free to feel. If she were, she would snatch up Joshua and run for the hills.

But she wasn’t free. Fear of failure, of repetition held her prisoner. Once she had loved Harry utterly and completely, with no restrictions. That love had wilted and died within her hand as she watched, despite everything she did to keep it alive.

She couldn’t bear to have that happen twice. And so she locked her heart away.

Or told herself she did.

“Want to invite me in for a nightcap?” he asked. When she didn’t respond immediately, he went on. “Hot chocolate? Cold chocolate? A glass of water?”

She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re easily pleased, aren’t you?”

“What have I been trying to tell you?” He put his arms around her, drawing her against his body. “I’m only fussy in my choice of paintings and women.”

She meant to put her hands between them and somehow managed to put them around his neck instead. For the friend, she told herself, only the friend who was so dear to her.

But it was the man who frightened the hell out of her even as he intrigued and tantalized her.

She wanted to protest, to tell him no. Logically, she wanted to do that. But her emotional need to be held, cherished, won out and she tilted her head back to reach his lips.

Joshua groaned as he drank in the overpowering sweetness he found there. Over and over, his mouth slanted over hers, bruising her lips, bruising her soul, making the ache within them both reach out and pull. Hard.

Her head swam as the world dipped into darkness and disappeared. There was nothing and no one, except for Joshua. His hands tightened on her, holding her against him. He didn’t caress, didn’t possess. And yet, by not doing any of it, he did. Just by touching his mouth to hers, just by enfolding her in his arms, he branded her, took possession while she fiercely wanted to retain ownership.

She wanted him. She knew she couldn’t have him. It just wouldn’t work. It never did. The fact had her nearly sobbing.

“Pleasant dreams,” he whispered against her ear.

“Your cold water?” she asked, surprised that he was leaving.

“I’ve decided to wear it—as soon as possible.” He winked and then was gone.

Johanna nearly slid down against the closed door. His kiss left her weak and wanting. She needed a cold shower of her own. And a good dose of common sense.

“Home kind of early, aren’t you?” Mary asked as Johanna let herself in.

“Early?” She glanced at her watch. It was almost two in the morning. “The play was over hours ago. We had a late dinner and a ride around Central Park in a hansom cab.”

Mary curled her toes beneath her on the sofa, her head resting on the arm, her eyes bright. “And?”

Johanna let her purse drop to the sofa a moment before she did. “He brought me home.”

“His?”

Johanna looked at her sister curiously. “No, mine.”

Mary blew out a breath, curbing annoyance and disappointment. “I think you need pointers.”

Everyone seemed to know what was best for her, except her. “I think you need to go to bed.”

Mary rose, a knowing smile on her lips as she looked her sister up and down. Johanna was definitely tense. The evidence was in her shoulders, in the way she moved. In the way she spoke. “Ditto.”

“I am.” She took the pins out of her hair and shook it free. God, her neck ached. She ached.

With her hands braced on the back of the sofa, Mary leaned over so that her face was level with Johanna’s. “I don’t mean your own.”

“Mary,” Johanna sighed, “I don’t need a love life.”

“Bull—“ Mary bit off” the rest of the word. “Fleas don’t need a love life, people do.”

Johanna kicked off her shoes and leaned back, her eyes closed. Maybe if she kept them that way, Mary would take the hint. “Thank you, Dr. Ruth.”

When it came to hints, Mary chose the ones she took and the ones she ignored. “Just because Harry was a bastard doesn’t mean that everyone is.”

That sounded exactly like something Joshua had said to her earlier. She opened one eye and looked up at her sister. “Joshua been cuing you your lines?”

“I always liked Joshua.”

“Fine, I make you a present of him.”

“Would that I could, dear sister, would that I could, but the man is already in love.” She saw the way her sister’s eyes opened wide. “With you, you idiot.”

Johanna rose stiffly, her shoes dangling from her hand. “You’re crazy.”

“No, but you are if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers.”

“There is no opportunity.”

“No, not if you shut your mind to it.”

If she fell asleep instantly, it still wouldn’t be enough to see her through the next day. “It’s too late to argue, Mary.”

“Good. I hereby declare this argument over. I won.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “Now, get out of my bedroom.” She waved her hand around the immediate area that surrounded the sofa. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She yawned and curled up on the sofa.

Johanna shook her head. “Everyone’s against me.”

Mary opened one eye. “There you’re wrong. Everyone’s for you. You just have to stop being the battered wife long enough to realize that.”

Johanna whirled around. “Harry never beat me.” That he had hit her once and that it had sealed her resolution to leave him was something she was determined to keep to herself.

“There are other forms of being battered than being used as a physical punching bag,” Mary informed her sleepily. “I’m too tired for another sparring match, Jo. I won the first argument and that’s that. You get the prize—Joshua.” She yawned and stretched.

“Thanks. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that.” She began unbuttoning her dress. Something distant wondered what it would be like to be undressed by Joshua. That was Mary’s doing, she thought, quickly shutting away the thought. If Mary would stop suggesting that—

Oh God, who was she kidding? It was of her own doing.

“I bet he will,” Mary chuckled just before she drifted off to sleep.