She headed for the stairs and went down, leaving him above to inspect the attics alone if he saw fit. She needed a moment to catch her breath. Being alone with Sullivan was too enjoyable, especially when he seemed to care for her opinion. He took his time on the higher floor, coming downstairs adjusting his cuffs. “The attic roof appears sound. I saw no sign of leaks in the highest chambers. Shall we inspect the servants’ quarters below together now?”
Aurora considered refusing. She was not there to pass judgement on an investment property but to get him married to someone deserving. “Did you attend Bradshaw’s since I saw you last?”
“Yes,” he answered as he strolled away. He started down the steps into darkness without saying more though.
“And? Did you…?” she called out, but Sullivan had disappeared.
There was a loud thump but no explanation forthcoming when she called out his name. Concerned, she hurried down herself.
Her foot caught on the second to last step, and she fell forward…into his waiting arms. “I’ve got you,” he promised, holding her close against his chest.
Aurora considered swooning as she inhaled his cologne and felt the warmth and strength of the body holding her up.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and then glanced over her shoulder at the steps.
Sullivan gently set her on her feet. “That must be fixed as soon as possible,” he announced.
Unsettled by how good it had felt to be held, she led the way down the dimly lit hallway, peeking into every chamber they found. She was accustomed to the curiosities of servants’ quarters and judged them adequate before Sullivan could enquire. “The kitchen will need a thorough scrubbing before use but that is all that would need to be done.”
She climbed the stairs, Sullivan following close behind, stepping over the wobbly step that could have broken both their necks easily. In the hall again, she glanced at Sullivan.
He was watching her. He unnerved her.
Well, two could play that game today. “Did you take a lover?”
“No,” he answered slowly. “I found my imagination fixed upon a certain pretty matchmaker.”
Aurora shook her head. “Sullivan.”
She was suddenly caged between him and the nearest wall. “Why not have me?”
She meant to push at him. Instead, she caressed his chest. “I cannot tell you.”
He caught her eye. “Did I not kiss you with enough passion last time?”
“With a surfeit of it,” she promised.
That made him smile. “Then why not let me love you?”
“Make love to me? That was not what you asked for, my lord.”
“They are one and the same to me.”
“No, Sullivan. They definitely are not the same, even if they are both temporary.”
He frowned at her words. “Love is not temporary.”
“It always ends, and you, better than anyone, should know that.”
He leaned closer. “Love never entirely goes away.”
“For many it does,” she answered, getting cross with him for being so stubborn. After a week, he ought to have reconciled himself to pursuing another lady. She ducked under his arm again and put some distance between them. “It is not in your nature to want a temporary anything with a lady. Your resistance to taking a lover is proof enough of that.”
“I may not have loved a woman since we first met,” he asked. “But I’m not the same broken man who appeared in your library, am I?”
“No,” she conceded. “You’ve come far since we first met, because the very idea of marriage once made you nauseous, you said,” she murmured. She had always wished he could be a little freer with his affections. That he would not cling so hard to the years-old memory of his first love. He might be happier if he could ever let that love go. The best way to start, in her opinion, was to take up with another lady and make new memories.
But he was not going to do that for himself.