To Dream Again (26 page)

He lowered his gaze to the cravat in his hands and rubbed the silk between his fingers. "I think I had better take you home."

His voice sounded harsh, something she'd never heard before. Mara bit her lip and ducked her head, feeling relieved, disappointed, and quite inadequate all at once. She nodded, looking at the floor. "All right."

She heard him breathe a heavy sigh as he turned away. He walked her back to the lodging house, but neither of them spoke. When they reached her door, she unlocked it, hesitated with one hand on the latch, and looked up at him. "Nathaniel, I—"

"It's late," he interrupted her, pushing the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned away, but instead of starting up the stairs to his own rooms, he went back down.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"For a walk," he replied over his shoulder without looking at her. "A
long
walk."

She watched him descend the staircase and disappear. A walk at this hour? She shook her head, stepped inside her room, and shut the door. He really was the most unpredictable man.

It was twenty past eight. Nathaniel was often late, Mara reminded herself. He usually didn't come in until after nine. She knew she should be working, not watching the clock and waiting for him to come breezing in with their tea. There was a note on her desk from Michael, asking if she would meet with him this morning to go over next week's production schedule, but she didn't move to respond to it.

The proposal for the bank was finished. She could check it for errors one more time before she gave it to Nathaniel. She pulled the document out of the stack of completed work on the left side of her desk and began to read it.

Why had he kissed her? Afraid to ponder such a question, Mara continued to read the report in her hands. Ledgers and reports and numbers were tangible things, understandable. Men, however, were an unfathomable mystery. After twelve years of marriage, she hadn't understood James at all, and she knew that Nathaniel Chase was a much deeper, much more complicated man than fames had ever been.

Did he think she was pretty? She wasn't, she knew that, not anymore. She looked in the mirror, and she saw the hardness in herself. But last night had been different. She had been different.

Mara came to the end of the proposal, and she realized that she had read the entire thing without paying any attention to it. She gave up and went to place the document on Nathaniel's desk, perching it atop the untidy pile of papers already there so that he would see it when he came in.

She started to turn away, but the sight of his jacket slung carelessly over the back of his chair caught her attention. She smiled, remembering it had been there the night before. He'd forgotten to take it with him.

She lifted the jacket from the chair and turned away, thinking she'd hang it on one of the brass hooks Boggs had installed beside the door, but she took only two steps before she paused. Holding it in her hands, she breathed in the clean, spicy scent of him, and the night before came back to her in all its hot confusion.

"Why did you kiss me?" she whispered and rubbed her cheek against the soft black wool before pressing her lips to it. She felt again the heat of his mouth, the touch of his thumbs caressing her neck, and the shivers along her spine. She felt it all again, and she indulged in a luxury she hadn't allowed herself for a long time. "I wish..."

What she wished was never voiced aloud. The sound of footsteps on the stairs brought her out of her daydream with a jerk, and she quickly hung the jacket on one of the hooks. When Nathaniel entered the office carrying the tea tray, she was seated at her desk, an open ledger before her and a pencil in her hand, hoping she looked as if she'd been hard at work all morning.

She made the mistake of glancing at him, and her facade of composure nearly deserted her. One dance, one kiss, and everything was different. She couldn't look at his hands without remembering the feel of them in her hair. She couldn't look at the straps of the braces he wore without remembering the solid strength of his shoulder beneath her hand. She couldn't look at his cravat without remembering the feel of silk against her throat.

She couldn't look at his mouth without remembering how it had felt when he'd kissed her.

She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to keep carrying all the burdens by herself, yet she was a coward: she was afraid to trust. A bittersweet longing filled her as she looked at him. I wish...

"Good morning." He walked in and set the tray on the table. His expression gave her no clue as to what he might be thinking.

She looked away. "Good morning." Feeling the need to say something, anything, she asked, "Did you enjoy your walk last night?"

He didn't answer.

He was watching her, and when she looked up, his eyes met hers across the room. "No." He gestured to the table. "Shall we?"

She joined him, feeling puzzled, apprehensive, curious. But he said nothing more about his walk. She sat down, and he took the opposite chair.

"I thought you'd want to read the proposal before we go to the bank," she said, pouring their tea. "It's on your desk."

"Good," he answered. "I have an appointment with Arthur Gamage this morning, and other appointments this afternoon, so I'll read it later. Just give me the gist of it, would you?"

She handed him his cup of tea. "We need three thousand pounds."

Nathaniel pulled a scone from the basket and looked at her. "That gives us enough money to produce the trains for orders we already have?" When she nodded, he asked, "What about any additional orders we might receive?"

"We have orders for twelve hundred now. We shouldn't commit ourselves to more until we know how well they will sell."

"If my meeting with Gamage goes well, we'll have more orders today."

"But all our orders are on consignment. If people don't buy the trains, the retailers can return the unsold product and demand a refund. Then we'll have thousands of unsalable trains, a huge loan, and no way to pay it back."

He took a sip of tea. "Mara, we discussed this before. Taking orders on consignment is standard practice with a new company and a new product. But Charles Harrod and William Whiteley were confident that the trains would sell. They didn't arrive where they are by being wrong about what people will buy."

He heard her sigh and looked at her across the table. "We'll need to grab as much business as we can and establish ourselves. Once other toy makers see what we're doing, they’ll race to come up with their own version. By next spring, every toy maker in Britain will have a train very similar to mine."

"But your train is patented, isn't it?" She slowly spread jam on one half of her scone.

"Of course, both here and in America. But a patent only protects you against a competitor coming out with the exact same product. All other toy companies have to do is make a few minor modifications, and they can sell virtually the same train we do. We have to establish ourselves as the leader right from the start."

"How much—" She paused and put down the knife, then cleared her throat. "How much do you think we'll need, then?"

"I expect we'll be able to more than double our sales before the Christmas season begins. So we'll need at least eight thousand, I'd say. Plus another two thousand for contingencies."

"Ten thousand pounds? That's the company's entire net worth. They'll never loan us that much."

"Of course they will. I am the brother of a viscount after all. I can obtain credit on my family name."

Mara began to panic. She slid back her chair and jumped to her feet. "No, we can't."

He stood up and circled the table. "Yes, we can."

"Ten thousand pounds." She moaned, feeling sick, and buried her face in her hands. "Ten thousand pounds."

He halted beside her. "Everything will be all right," he said softly and pulled her hands away from her face. He released her wrists and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him, but she kept her head lowered. She looked so vulnerable, so lost and uncertain. He wanted to give her the security she craved, he wanted to promise her that nothing would go wrong, but he could not. "I know you're worried," he said, his hands moving in soothing circles over her shoulders, "but this is an all or nothing proposition. Our main concern will be to have those trains made and delivered by November 27. The biggest mistake we can make is underestimating our expenses."

She lifted her head. "Why can't we just borrow the three thousand for now?" she whispered. "We can always ask for more money later, if we need it."

He shook his head. "No, I don't want to do that. We're in a position of strength just now. We have an innovative product, the means to produce it, and no other debt on our books. If any problems come up, and we have to ask for more money, we'll lose our bargaining power with the bank. They might even begin to question our solvency, and they could deny us additional funds."

"You sound as if you expect problems to occur," she murmured miserably.

"Mara, I know you like to plan for every possible contingency, but unanticipated problems always come up," he said. "I want to be prepared to deal with them. That's all."

He gave her his reassuring smile. She wasn't reassured.

"Please don't," she whispered. "Don't ask me to sign my name to a debt of ten thousand pounds. I can't."

His smile faded, and she saw a glimmer of steel come into his blue eyes. His mouth tightened and he let his hands fall away from her shoulders. She thought for a moment he intended to argue with her, but instead, he turned away. He walked over to his desk, picked up the proposal she'd written, and brought it to her. "I must go. Let’s discuss this further when I return."

She nodded and took the document from his hand, then watched as he headed for the door.

After pulling the black jacket from its hook, he walked over to the table by his desk and picked up the carrying case that held his train set. He started out the door, but paused and looked back at her.

She met his eyes, not bothering to hide how she felt. But he said nothing more and turned away, leaving her there alone. Mara looked down at the bank proposal in her hands, and she had the feeling she would find herself ten thousand pounds in debt whether she liked it or not.

She set the proposal on her desk, placing it neatly in the center of her blotter, and went downstairs to meet with Michael about next week's production schedule, trying to put thoughts of Nathaniel aside. She'd thought a kiss had changed everything, but she'd been wrong. A kiss changed nothing at all.

***

Hell
. Nathaniel listened to the steady clip of horses' hooves as the cab carried him through Cheapside, but all he heard was the pleading in Mara's voice. He stared at the shops and open markets he passed, but all he saw was the fear in Mara's face.

He was becoming far too susceptible to wide eyes and warm lips and whispered fears. Knowing it would be foolish to borrow less than they needed, he'd almost given in to her request anyway. All because of a kiss.
Hell
.

They were in business together, he reminded himself. He would do well to remember that from now on. There was no place in a business partnership for romance and courtship. No place for waltzes and soft kisses. No place for desire and sweet oblivion. He should never have kissed her. But the truth was that he hadn't been able to stop himself.

All night, the lilac scent of her had haunted him. Even now, he could still smell it. He could still feel the silky tangle of her hair and taste the sweetness of her lips. He could still feel the sensation of drowning in her.

Thinking about the night before, reliving it, brought all his desire rushing back in a flood, and Nathaniel took a deep breath. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, wishing he could close his heart.

He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected to lose himself in her. It had taken every bit of willpower he possessed to stop it when he had. One more kiss, and he'd have agreed to anything she wanted.

If he could not keep some distance between them, he would begin giving in to her fears, and the only thing he'd ever wanted would be in jeopardy. All because he didn't want to see bitterness and hurt in her eyes.

He knew he shouldn't kiss her again. But he was sure that given half a chance, he would.

***

That afternoon, Mara left the factory and walked back to the lodging house to fetch milk for Algernon. Bottle in hand, she returned to the factory and started up the stairs to her office, but Percy's voice stopped her on the mezzanine.

"Mrs. Elliot?"

She went over to Percy's desk. He and Michael had both moved their desks up here, and assembly had been moved downstairs, even though the remodeling was not quite finished. "If I hear any more complaints about the noise and the dust, I shall scream," she told him. "Boggs will be finished in a few more days."