In Your Arms Again by Kathryn Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

that as Madeline released him and took both their hands, smiling happily as she stood between them, little and plump and oh-so-adorable.
    “It is so wonderful to have both of you here with me,” the girl enthused. “It means so very much.”
    Octavia’s smile faded as she lifted her gaze from Maddie to the man beside her. It seemed his expression became more hesitant as well.
    Somehow, she managed to speak around the lump in her throat. “Hello, Norrie.”
    Glacial blue eyes brightened, watching her with a nameless expression that made her knees quiver. And then he smiled—crooked and unsure.
    “Hello, my sweet Vie.”

Chapter 3
    N orth found himself embraced in strong slender arms, engulfed by the heady scents of clean, warm skin and lavender. Soft hair brushed his cheek seconds before lips, feather-light, whispered a kiss against his jaw. He closed his eyes, afraid someone— she —might see the longing there.
    His best friend. His sweet, sweet Vie.
    Madeline was drawn away by other well-wishers, leaving the two of them standing alone, surrounded by bodies in their own little world.
    Jewel-bright eyes watched him thoughtfully, searching his face as Octavia took a step backward, her hand sliding down to his. What did she look for? A glimpse of the boy he’d once been? At one time he would have thought that boy well hidden, as distant as a dream, but he knew he was there. All she had to do was gaze into his eyes and she’d see him, terribly afraid of just how happy he was to see her—touch her.
    Her fingers tightened around his. “So you are not ashamed to know me after all.”
    Ashamed? Of her? “I would think you would not want to own to knowing me.”
    Her head tilted to the right, those brilliant eyes of hers refusing to release him. “Only because I made a promise to conceal my past. I have no shame of where I come from, Norrie. Nor am I ashamed of my friends.”
    His own eyes narrowed against the prickling there. “After all these years, what sort of friends are we, Octavia?”
    Her thumb rubbed his, her skin velvet soft against the roughness of his own. “The dearest kind. The kind that cares not for how many years have passed or foolish promises made.”
    His smile was genuine, but bitterness twisted the curve of his lips. “The kind who would try to greet you in a crowded ballroom, regardless of what questions that association might raise?”
    Some of the sparkle left her eyes, replaced by a deeper understanding that sent a trickle of discomfort down his spine. “The kind who would stop you from committing such a folly even though he longs for the reunion as much you.”
    He should have known she would see through him. She always could when they were younger, why should a dozen years change that?
    A dozen years. She was thirty now, yet her features were unmarred by the passage of time. He had seen her a few years ago, at Garrick’s funeral, but she had been veiled, hiding her face, and her grief, from those in attendance. A quiet maturity had sharpened the bones, deepened the hollows, but the face was still the same. It was her eyes that had changed. There was a darkness to her gaze that hadn’t been there in her youth, a responsibility that weighed heavily. Despite the years that had passed between them, he wanted to take that burden from her and bear it as his own.
    “You look wonderful,” he blurted, cheeks heating. Compliments were never his strong suit.
    Octavia smiled. “So do you.”
    North snorted. “My face has so many lines, I look like a map of London.”
    A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she raised her free hand—the other still held tight to his fingers—to his face. The pads of her fingers stroked the skin between his temple and cheek, where the lines fanned from the corner of his eyes.
    “You look like a man, Norrie,” she murmured, her gaze locking with his. “It suits you.”
    What could he say to that? Even if he was able to speak, her touch had robbed him of all