Page 47 of Lady Like

As soon as their lips meet, all of Emily’s muddled emotions—regret, relief, happiness, joy—dissolve into the singular feeling of Harry’s mouth on hers.

Harry puts a hand on Emily’s back, like she had while they waltzed, the other rising to cup Emily’s neck.

Her fingers twine in Emily’s hair, palm trembling as she flexes her fingers, as though she has to stop herself from clutching.

And Emily finds herself enveloped in those strong arms she has so admired since the day she saw Harry riding at Regent’s Park.

Her arms and her scent and her fierce tenderness, and Emily could die here and want nothing else in life, now that she has been held and touched and kissed by Harriet Lockhart.

Emily feels herself sinking, her body bowing against Harry’s like trees in the wind.

She has never been kissed like this. She has not been kissed at all since…

since Thomas. He invades her thoughts suddenly, his nimble hands and stubbled jaw.

What good has ever come from thinking she loved someone?

She had thought she loved Thomas and that had tipped her whole life off course.

She should pull away. She should tear herself from Harry’s arms, wipe her mouth, and walk away without another glance.

She needs a husband. She needs a future.

She needs security and a reputation and distinctly not these arms and this mouth and this clarifying touch and the shuddering thrill of living the rest of her life in the shade of this kiss.

I cannot do this, she thinks. I cannot again be distracted by another unsuitable lover.

She cannot sail this close to the dark shores that once nearly scuttled her.

She has come too far—patched her sails and flown different colors and learned to twist into the wind rather than against it.

It would be madness to change course now.

She cannot let someone else come into her life and ruin her heading.

She loved unsuitably before, and no good came from it.

But what she felt for Thomas in comparison to what she feels for Harry is like comparing a teaspoon to the ocean.

And what has she gotten from a lonely life at sea? Who says a marooner’s rock can’t be her home? She can throw anchor in whichever port she likes. She can drop her anchor in the middle of the goddamn ocean if it pleases her. And Harry surely is an ocean. She stretches as far as Emily can see.

And so, when Harry asks, “Would you come home with me?”

Emily says, “Yes.”