“Well?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I was once. As a young man.”
Aidan glared down at Penrose’s smooth cheeks and slim frame. “Hm.” His blond hair glinted in the pale light. The boy was likely twenty-four or twenty-five now, but he seemed so young. “So you were in love once, but then it dissipated, correct?”
“Dissipated?”
“Yes. You ceased to love her.”
“I—I shouldn’t like to be so callous. We did not suit.”
“I see.”
He turned his eyes back to the mast and the ropes that stretched from it. A dozen workers held tight to those lines, holding the mast steady. Aidan felt as if he needed the same ropes lashed to him.
“Perhaps,” Penrose started before coughing lightly. “Perhaps I didn’t love her at all. It was likely an infatuation that simply faded.”
“An infatuation,” Aidan murmured, trying to convince himself that this was just the word that applied. Even if it had been love with Kate so many years before, those feelings had long since died. This was something new and . . . temporary.
By God, he’d had trouble turning his mind to business today. Last night her wine-flushed lips and welcoming eyes had been a glorious torment. Then her gaze had touched his mouth, and he’d been lost in the desire to feel her. Her skin, her lips, the wild disarray of her hair . . .
He’d kissed her. He’d kissed her and known immediately that it was right.
No, not right. It couldn’t be right, because she was a married woman. Granted, he’d taken a shameful number of married women to his bed, but this was Katie.
Snow began to fall, and Aidan absentmindedly donned his hat, still eyeing the workers.
Kate was not just a thoughtless means of distracting himself for a few hours. She was not just a body. And she was clearly not experienced at this type of affair. She’d been thinking of repercussions before the kiss had ended.
Still, there’d been no denial at his guess about her marriage. If she’d loved the man once, she did not love him now. She likely didn’t love Aidan either, but she felt something. Nostalgia, or infatuation, or pure and simple lust. Need tightened his groin at the thought.
What the hell was he going to do? She’d snuck inside him, and now he could see the danger he’d overlooked. He’d been hollow for so long, and the space inside him had been cut out in her shape. How could she not fit perfectly?
“Mr. York!” The bright feminine voice pierced his brooding thoughts. For one painful heartbeat, Aidan thought it was Katie. And it wasn’t anything like lust that made his pulse tumble.
But as he turned, his heart tripping with anticipation, he saw Lucy Cain hurrying toward them, her cheeks pink with the cold. Her smile was wide and welcoming and he felt churlish for his disappointment.
“Miss Cain,” he said, sweeping his hat off to bow. “What a pleasure.”
“Look at you, Mr. York. Why, I think you’re even more handsome in the snow.”
He winked as he rose, then tilted his hat toward Penrose.
“May I introduce my secretary, Mr. Penrose?”
Penrose blushed as Miss Cain offered her hand and a saucy smile. “An honor, miss.”
“So polite. You must bring him to luncheon today, Mr. York.”
“Luncheon?”
“You see, my father wondered if you could join us. I think he’s discovered how rich you are.”
Aidan laughed. Yes, this girl reminded him of Katie in so many ways. “I would love to join you for luncheon. Mr. Penrose?”
“Yes,” Penrose stammered. “Of course. Without a doubt.”
“Then, Miss Cain, shall we?” He offered his arm, feeling a lightness in his chest as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve. He had a brief, searing hope that Kate would be at the Cain’s when he arrived but pushed it away. She was a married woman. It would do neither of them good to be seen so much together.