Eliza leaned into it before thinking.
Both went still.
Nathan whispered:
“Eliza.”
“Yes?”
“Our agreement says nothing about kissing after accounting victories.”
“An oversight.”
“We should correct it.”
Her pulse hammered.
“You are becoming very bold for a temporary husband.”
His gaze dropped to her lips.
“Tell me no.”
She should.
Not because she wanted no.
Because she wanted too much.
Eliza lifted one hand to his wrist.
Instead of removing it, she held him there.
“Nathan.”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me before I become sensible.”
He did.
Not the wedding kiss.
Nothing polite.
Still gentle.
Still controlled.
But real.
Eliza felt three weeks of restraint disappear.
Her fingers closed in his vest.
Nathan’s other hand settled carefully at her waist.
He pulled away first.
Breathing uneven.
Eliza looked at him.
“That was irresponsible.”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
Nathan smiled.
He kissed her again.
Later, alone in her room, Eliza pressed fingers to her lips and stared at the contract folded inside her desk.
Six months suddenly looked very short.
The next morning neither mentioned the kiss.
That lasted seven minutes.
Nathan handed her coffee.
Eliza said:
“I am not sorry.”
He nearly spilled his own.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I don’t like pretending.”
“Neither do I.”
“You’re not sorry?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Nathan drank coffee.
Then:
“I would like to do it again.”
Her face warmed.
“Not before school.”
“Why?”
“I have arithmetic.”
Nathan’s mouth curved.
“I fail to see the conflict.”
She left before he could prove otherwise.
The public meeting drew nearly the entire town.
People always attend governance when scandal is expected.
Schoolhouse filled first.
Then porch.
Windows opened despite cold evening air so people outside could hear.
Grayson arrived dressed impeccably.
Calm.
Too calm.
Eliza knew he had prepared.
Nathan sat in the front row.
Not beside her.
Eliza had insisted.
This was her fight.
Mrs. Talley sat with Louisa.
Harlan looked pale.
Reverend Pritchard stood near the back.
The meeting began with school expenditures.
Eliza presented numbers.
Clear.
Simple.
No speeches.
“Three tons coal invoiced in August.”
“We received one.”
“Thirty-eight gallons lamp oil invoiced.”
“We received sixteen.”
“Six desks purchased.”
“No desks delivered.”
Grayson interrupted.
“Mrs. Cole has no accounting training.”
Eliza looked at him.
“I can count desks.”
Laughter.
Grayson flushed.
She continued.
Then carpenter testimony.
County price lists.
Harlan’s signature history.
Grayson shifted strategy.
“This is clerical confusion.”
Eliza lifted the duplicated invoice.