Page 30 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

But Jack knew it was more than that. There was an art to conversation that he’d never learned or appreciated.

People talked to each other all the time.

Better people even listened. But to do both while making the other party actually feel heard, like what they said mattered , was a true talent.

Standing on the sidelines, speaking whenever Ella opened up the perfect place in the exchange for him, Jack had known exactly what the Caddells had been thinking.

Because he’d been on the receiving end of Ella’s talent before.

He’d felt the acceptance and curiosity of her.

He knew what it was like to witness her interest and questions and realize that she wasn’t asking them only to use his answers as currency against him, but rather because she genuinely wanted to know more about him.

It was a heady feeling, could make a person feel drunk with promise. It could make a person greedy for more.

Just as Jack was now. He wanted all of Ella. All of the time.

Because she made him feel so many things.

But most of all, she made him feel like he was the right man for her. That he was enough for her.

And beliefs were a dangerous thing—especially when a person was beginning to believe in himself.

Jack palmed his face, running it down until he was certain that that idea had fled. He needed to get out of his mind. Thinking was doing him no favors. “How did you get to be so good at it?” he asked, needing Ella to whisk him away from the tortures of his hope.

“Talking to people?”

He nodded.

Ella’s mouth puckered as she gave the matter some thought. Jack used the time to settle in his seat. He was no better than Sonia, getting comfortable for one of Ella’s lofty bedtime tales.

“It’s nothing astonishing, really,” she began.

Her body tensed as she peeked out the sliver of window left uncovered by the shade.

“My mother trained all of us to be what Society asked for. My father insisted we had a good education, and she insisted we knew how to put everyone at ease. Be the consummate hostess.”

“You’re more than that.”

Her smile was wistful, and it tugged on something deep and hidden inside him.

“I suppose I’m good at listening to people.

” Ella hesitated as if she was answering the question for herself along with Jack.

“After the scarlet fever, my body was weak. I would catch fevers so easily, and it made my parents nervous. My sisters were allowed free rein over the house and estate, but the second I showed signs of a cough or a runny nose, I was sent to my room to recover.”

Jack listened quietly. He’d known some of this story, but not the extent of the disease. He couldn’t fit what Ella told him with how he saw her. Her powers seemed limitless to him. For fuck’s sake, she’d dragged his large brother out of a lake. Her being sickly didn’t make sense.

She continued. “I spent so much of my childhood reading and listening to my sisters tell me about their days and adventures. I craved it; I wanted to hear everything. It was like I was living through their exploits. Don’t give me that look.

I’m not to be pitied. I never envied them…

too much. Besides, that was a long time ago. And I’m better now.”

Ella was wrong. Jack didn’t pity her. He pitied himself. Because he wanted to wrap her in his embrace and keep her safe. If he wanted one job in life, it was that one. “You don’t get fevers anymore?”

“No,” she said slowly. Ella took off one glove and stretched her fingers.

“But I do get these… episodes. It’s hard to explain, and the doctors don’t truly understand it either.

Whenever I overexert myself or feel anxious or full of stress for a significant period of time, my hands will hurt terribly.

It happens to my feet, too. My knuckles and ankles will become inflamed and tight and difficult to move.

It’s like being locked in a little prison, and I’m at its mercy.

It doesn’t happen too often, but I’m always on the lookout for it. ”

“And the doctors can’t help you?”

“They try,” she explained. “Some have said that certain herbs can help, so I try to put them in my tea as much as possible; others have tried massaging techniques to bring the inflammation down, but there’s been no cure.” She shrugged. “This is just something I’ll have to live with.”

Before the rational part of Jack’s brain could warn him off, he reached across the carriage, taking Ella’s naked hand.

Scooting to the edge of his seat, he pulled the hand into his lap.

Then, with painstaking care and precision, he began to rub in little circles at the base of her palm, working all the way up to the tip of each tapered finger.

“Y-you d-don’t have to do that,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do.” He sent her a warm smile. “For all the stress I’ve caused you these last few weeks.”

Ella’s laugh was short and choppy. “You haven’t been that bad,” she said.

Silence fell over them as she watched him knead her hand.

Jack went back and forth between pressure levels, taking her to the edge of pain at moments before returning to a gentle, soothing caress.

Blood pumped harsh and loud in between his ears, but he could still hear the erratic pulls and hisses of her breath.

For a solid minute, Jack focused on the meaty section of her palm, at the base of her thumb, grinding with his fingers until she released a gusty moan.

“Hit the spot?” But he’d been wrong to look up. Ruffled and spent, the woman looked one push away from crying out. Lord help him if that happened.

“What about you?” she asked. Apparently, the woman was capable of speech after all. “Why are you so bad at conversation? Forgive me for saying this, but I expected a little more from a duke’s son.”

Jack made her wait for his answer. He returned Ella’s hand to her lap before taking the other.

Gently, he peeled the glove off and started all over again.

“I never had the talent for it. And it wasn’t me that really needed it.

Ollie was good at all of that—good enough for the both of us.

” Using the backs of his fingers, Jack caressed the length of hers, tickling the soft skin, grinning when she shuddered.

“My father understood that I had no interest in the ton or the limitations it was determined to place on a second son.” Emotion welled in Jack’s throat.

“He was a good man. The best man. He never held me back, despite wanting different things for me.”

“He didn’t want you to be like his brothers.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“So he let you go?”

“So he let me go.”

Ella’s fingers curled, capturing Jack’s hand. “He’d be so proud of you, Jack.”

His mouth screwed up to the side. “Do you think so?”

“I do.”

Jack nodded, too overcome to mutter a word.

How did she do this to him? Get him talking enough to uncover everything he tried desperately to hide?

Could she see how he’d needed her to say those words?

Because his father had died before he could.

Did she know that the fear of disappointing or failing his father kept him up some nights?

That fear was what pushed him to excel, pushed him to sail harder and faster and smarter than everyone else.

“Jack?”

God, how he loved the way she said his name with that husky voice of hers. A little puff of air. So sexy and coaxing. Maybe even a little wanting.

Maybe a lot of it.

“Yes, Ella?”

Her expression was blank, but also unmistakable.

“I don’t want to go home tonight.”

Home. Funny how she called it that when Jack hadn’t for years. They weren’t even headed to Sutton Park, anyway. He’d told his mother that they would stay at the townhouse to avoid that long drive that night. But something told him that she wasn’t talking about the townhouse either.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked quietly.

“Take me to your ship.”

Jack couldn’t help himself. He knew his smile was cocky. “Which one?”

Her eyes flickered down to their hands before moving back to him. “The one you love the most.”