Hugh couldn’t stop watching Aleida, seated beside him in the train compartment on the Buntingford Branch Line. She’d never looked more beautiful. And she had kissed him.
Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, her lips curved in a smile.
They’d curved rather nicely around his lips too. If only she’d given him a few more seconds so he could have kissed her back properly.
She gazed out the window at the passing countryside. “London.” Gave Hugh a dreamy smile. “Theo.” Smiled around the compartment. “I found him.”
Round and round she went, smiling at everything and everyone. “London . . . Theo . . . I found him.”
She could think of nothing but her son—quite rightly.
Hugh could think of nothing but the kiss—quite selfishly.
Yet in an entire day devoted to elation over Theo, was it truly selfish to squeeze in some elation over the kiss? Perhaps squeeze in another few kisses?
He leaned closer. “Recht . . . door . . . zee.”
Her smile tipped higher into mischief.
Excellent. She was open to flirting. “I admire that about you,” he said in a low voice. “Especially today.”
She swung her gaze to the window, and the pink of her cheeks darkened.
He nudged her with his shoulder. “I have one complaint.”
Her gaze flew back to him. “A complaint?”
“Far be it from me to complain about a kiss from a beautiful woman.” He spoke as low and as close as possible. “Much less a woman I care for deeply, but complain I must.”
“Must you?” Her breath tickled his lips.
“It was too short. I didn’t have time to respond.”
Laughter frolicked in the sea-blue of her eyes. “Is it my fault you’re slow?”
He chuckled. He did like her. “When dealing with a man of my limitations, you must make certain allowances. Next time, I ask for fair warning.”
“You want . . . a warning?”
“Allow me time to prepare and kiss you properly, as you deserve.”
Color rose even higher in her cheeks. How he wanted to kiss her right there, but the older woman facing them was trying most desperately not to watch.
Aleida sat back. “May I see your diary? And a pen, please?”
“My diary?” At her nod, he fished diary and pen from his pocket.
She flipped through, wrote something, and handed it back.
It read, “8:52 p.m.—Share a kiss with Aleida.” Everything good and wonderful stirred in his chest.
Aleida tapped the top of the page, where it read, “Saturday, 11 January.”
“The eleventh of January?” His voice rose high enough for the curious onlooker to hear. “That’s a week away.”
“Isn’t this St. Margaret’s Station? It’s hard to tell with the signs removed.” Aleida nodded out the window. The train had slowed and was pulling to the platform.
Yes, this was where the line ended and they transferred to London.
His mind scrambling, Hugh fetched both suitcases from the overhead rack. “May I suggest we move that forward to this evening?”
“A week.” Aleida gave him a bland smile over her shoulder as she followed their fellow passenger out of the compartment. “Fair warning. I know your limitations.”
He stepped out onto the platform behind her. “I don’t need a week. I’m ready now.”
She clucked her tongue. “I won’t risk further complaints.”
“I shall never complain again. You have my word.” He trotted to catch up with her, passing through a cloud of steam from the locomotive.
“Then I have nothing to fear next Saturday.” She took her suitcase from him.
He stepped in front of her, walked backward, and affected the pout that had never failed to get him his way as a child. “I don’t want to wait a week.”
“You need to learn to follow the schedule in your diary.”
Pouting failed to move her? What did he have left? Would logic work? He slowed his pace, allowing the other travelers to pass them by. “I’m also supposed to be teaching you—to be less organized, to toss aside the schedule at times.”
As he came to a stop, she did too.
“But the . . . schedule.” She stood a foot away, and hesitation flickered in her lovely eyes.
For months, he’d backed away from that hesitation, but not today. He set his gloved hand on her waist and closed the maddening distance between them. “Whatever your reservations were about me—and I’m sure they were many—you’ve overcome them, yes?”
Her eyes enlarged even more, and her breath hopped in little white puffs between them.
“You kissed me,” he said, “and you scheduled another kiss. You’ve already decided.”
“I—I have.” Her voice came out breathy, and she swayed a bit.
He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her forehead beneath the narrow brim of her hat. “We’re only debating the timing of that kiss. Next week?” He slid the kiss down the slope of her nose. “Tonight?” He met the pink of her cheek with another kiss.
“Oh, Hugh.” Her arm worked around his back.
“Now it is.” He met the pink of her lips, soft and supple and willing and blending into his. His suitcase fell, and he embraced her fully.
The months of waiting melted away into perfection, and he held her and kissed her, his own sweet Aleida. The woman he loved.
She pulled back a bit, her eyes bleary and her lips full. “I have a complaint.”
“A complaint?”
She caressed the back of his neck and gave him a teasing lift of one eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be taking me to my son.”
Hugh chuckled, accepted the short kiss she gave him, and gave her another. “To London we go.”