by Dayna Quince
Panic brought all of Nic’s faculties into sharp focus. She’d lied to her own sister, perhaps for the first time in her life, but she couldn’t tell her the truth. No, she absolutely could not say that she’d spent hours last night with Mr. Denham, unchaperoned on the beach, no less. If that wasn’t scandalous enough, they’d kissed. He’d quite demolished her wits with his kisses, and she was still under the effects.
Her pulse rose, tingles shot off in her body like fireworks, and over and over again flashes of their kiss replayed in her mind. Before him, Nic had been kissed exactly one time by Jeremy McMackel. It had been a wet disaster of a kiss. Nic shuddered just thinking of it now. All slimy lips and tongue, and he’d even tried to touch her breast. She’d swatted his hand away and shoved him. The lesson she learned that day was that a handsome face did not equal a good kisser, though he could have been just as inexperienced as she was.
It was always assumed that men even close to her age were rather worldly, but Jeremy McMackel had never left Northumberland either. She’d once believed she would marry a local, being the poor daughter of a genteel farmer. She never imagined she’d be here now, dining with the duke and duchess and other wealthy gentlemen as if she belonged here.
But last night she hadn’t felt out of place at all.
She’d felt a comfort with Mr. Denham unlike anything she’d ever known before. An instinctual belonging as if she’d suddenly remembered he’d been here all along, every day of her life, as much a part of her as Odette was. How strange to feel that close to a man and yet so far beneath him. Perhaps that was the reason she was able to sing for him. She hadn’t even sung for her sisters. But there was something about him last night that just made her unwind, not cling so tightly to the cage of her comfort.
While he spoke of seduction and proclaimed himself a devilish rogue, she should have turned away from him, but she’d wanted the opposite. To get closer, to wedge herself inside the mask he wore and come to know the real man underneath. The man who only showed himself in whiplash flashes. There was someone under the bravado and shiny veneer, a man who perhaps ached for something more from life, just like her, but didn’t know what it was.
He’d heard her sing, and he thought she would naturally desire to be a performer but that wasn’t true. Singing, for her, was like church. It moved her, made her soul swell with light and rise and fall like the waves. But while she liked to attend church, she was not devout. She had no desire to be a preacher herself or stand on the stage and be adored by others. That might sound like heaven to some but not to Nic. She didn’t need crowds cheering for her; she just wanted a place of her own. To know the niche where she was supposed to fit, and she felt like he might understand that.
Nic set down her fork with a sigh and met Luna’s gaze. “I can feel you watching me, you know.”
“That is not at all surprising. I was staring very intently,” Luna replied.
“Please don’t. It’s annoying.” Nic wanted to sink into her chair, exhaustion weighing down her bones, but she couldn’t display such horrific manners here.
“I’m worried about what has you so exhausted.” Luna continued to interrogate her.
“I’ve already told you. I’m having trouble sleeping in the bed by myself. Perhaps I ought to share a room with Odette.”
“That’s an excellent solution. Or you can stop lying to me.” Luna whispered the last bit.
Nic narrowed her eyes at Luna. “And if I told you instead to keep your nose where it belongs, how would you reply?”
Luna drew back. “You’re my sister. Why would I hide my concern for you?”
Nic ground her teeth. “Because it is unwarranted. You’re just being intrusive, as usual.”
Luna shook her head and turned back to her food.
Nic peeked at Mr. Denham sitting with his brother, and though he looked just as tired as she felt, he was still wickedly handsome. His eyes appeared very blue this morning, perhaps because of his coat. He wore a stylish navy plaid coat with a white cravat and a black waistcoat underneath. Though she must be staring unabashedly, she couldn’t look away. He turned his head and glanced at her, and her heart leapt into her throat. He winked and a wanton blush rushed through her.
She was definitely awake now.
Luna nudged Nic with her elbow.
Nic rubbed her temples as she cut a glare to Luna. “What?”
“I thought you might like to try a bit of coffee. It has more energetic effects than tea, I do believe.”
Nic shrugged and Luna pushed a cup of coffee under her nose. Nic looked down at the cup with interest and then picked it up and sniffed it. The chair on Nic’s other side scooted back, and her breath caught as Mr. Denham sat beside her.
“Don’t,” he warned. “One taste and you’ll never be able to give it up. It has the same addictive qualities as I do.”
Her nerve endings sizzled with joy. It must be true, because she wanted to take a long sip of him. But she couldn’t let him know that.
She smiled and took a sip. “Hardly addictive. I don’t think I care for it at all.”
“I hope you took care of all your responsibilities this morning, Mr. Denham,” Luna said from Nic’s other side, her tone icy. Nic blinked in confusion. His gaze frosted over as it switched to her sister.
What was happening? Last night he and Luna had seemed friendly, but now… A current of dislike moved between them. To think Nic had been jealous but what happened? And did it have anything to do with the kiss? Was Luna now the jealous one? Had he flirted with Luna, got her hopes up, and now callously had transferred his attentions to Nic?
Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip.
“Why yes, I did, Miss Lunette,” Mr. Denham said with barely concealed contempt. “My brother and I took a hearty walk around the gallery before coming down to breakfast. He felt the need to stretch his legs after spending the evening in bed with a headache.”
“I can only imagine what a relief it was to have your help,” Luna snapped at him.
“Indeed. He was ever so grateful for my company, but alas, how was your morning?”
Nic turned to Luna to gauge her sister’s emotions.
“I have had a busy morning as well,” Luna said. “I woke extra early before the sun was even up. And took care of all my responsibilities.” She stared down Mr. Denham.
“Bully for you, Miss Lunette. I feel like I haven’t slept at all.”
Nic could feel him move closer to her as she said that last part. A thrill slipped down her spine and a flush covered her skin.
“You certainly look it,” Luna murmured into her coffee.
“You know, I must tell you about this marvelous dream I had,” he said.
Nic turned slightly to read his expression. There was definitely something going on between her sister and Mr. Denham, but she didn’t detect jealousy in Luna; it was more…pure animosity. Nic returned her focus to him. He had a wicked glint in his eye.
“You see, I was having trouble sleeping as I do most nights. I really don’t like sleeping alone, and so I took my violin down to the beach. This is where the dream began. I wasn’t really at the beach. It was more like fantasy really, and I heard the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. The moon was high, the wind blowing, clouds racing across the sky in little fluffy clumps, but that voice, it gave me chills. Not the eerie kind that makes you think there’s a ghost lurking nearby, but the spiritual kind, as if you’re hearing an angel or witnessing a miracle firsthand. And wouldn’t you know it, in my dream,” he said, his voice taking on a mesmerizing quality that neither she nor her sister could look away from, “there was a mermaid in the water, waving to me. And once she’d caught my attention, she raised her voice to the starry sky and sang the most beautiful song I have ever heard. A wicked tune filled with debauchery, and I found myself helpless to resist her as I waded into the water, certain of my impending doom. But I didn’t care. That voice had captured me, and I relished death in that moment as long as I coul
d never stop hearing that voice.”
As he told the tale of the mermaid, Nic relived every sensation of their night together. She felt like she was sinking into his words, and she had to grip her tea cup to keep herself grounded in reality.
Nic peeked at her sister. Luna bristled with indignation. She clearly disliked Mr. Denham. But why? What had happened between them? Nic was floating in a sea of confusion when his tale ended, her heart throbbing for a man she wasn’t certain she could trust. She’d been swept away last night, but in the light of day, she needed to scrutinize her feelings. Breakfast was over, and the guests were being ushered to the drawing room for the announcement of the day’s activities. Mr. Denham sent her a warm glance before parting from them, but Nic didn’t know what to think.
She was a simple country maiden, and he as wild as the ocean was deep. She was headed for heartbreak if she wasn’t careful.
And it might be too late already. She was caught in a strong current that would lead her directly to him and straight to the demise of her virtue and her heart. She hadn’t loved Jeremy McMackel. She’d let him kiss her because she wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed, to be desired. But Jeremy McMackel was nothing compared to Mr. Denham.
Something about him made her burn like a star in the sky. She feared she was developing an infatuation. The way he made her feel after just one night… She would have to avoid him from here on out if she wanted to keep hold of her heart. She could never have more than what they shared last night, a stolen kiss, a few hours of playful banter.
That was it.
To protect her heart, she would avoid him for the rest of the party.
Chapter 14
Nic managed to catch a couple hours of sleep before afternoon tea. She was not in any way recovered, but she felt sane at least as she strolled beside Odette along the bottom terrace of the castle. The crisp wind threatened the pins in her hair as she gazed out at the sea. Nic leaned over the balustrade. Below, white waves crashed against black rock.
“Did you hear that?” Odette’s voice broke through her thoughts, breathless with excitement. Nic tore her gaze away from the water rushing against the rocks.
“Mr. Seyburn says there are tunnels from inside the castle to the old ruins. Can you imagine that?”
Nic could imagine nothing else would excite Odette more. Her twin was an adventurer at heart. She loved a good mystery, especially anything that might contain a spooky tunnel or graveyard at night. If she were a man, she would’ve run off to join a privateer and become a great world explorer, but instead, she was an impoverished maiden whose only real adventure in life would be to marry a man she might not ever love.
Mr. Seyburn was younger than the others, not quite thirty, but he’d made a name for himself as an explorer, participating in famous archeological finds, according to Odette. Odette had buzzed with energy from the moment he arrived.
“Are you speaking of the catacombs under the castle?” Nic asked. “There was once a monastery and cemetery on the other side of the castle. But part of the cemetery fell away when the bluff collapsed, and the graves were moved to another location.” Nic couldn’t recall how she knew that, probably something Josie had lectured them on. Josie would be proud to know Nic remembered such a tidbit of their history. The Marsdens had a long history here. They were once tenants of Selbourne Castle until her great-great grandfather was awarded the land in defense of the castle lord. Those had been treacherous times.
“I’m not sure they’re still there,” Nic said. “I think Josie said they had caved in.”
“That’s what they want us to think,” Mr. Seyburn interjected. “But you can’t simply cave in tunnels, that would be far too much work and threaten the structure. It could cause a collapse in whatever resided above them. But if you simply walled the tunnels off, well, imagine what you could hide there that no one may ever find.”
“Treasure,” Odette whispered, “or bodies. Think of the fun we could have searching for it. Weirick would be grateful. We could be famous and hired to help find other treasure. England was once rife with treasure.”
“Treasure that was stolen or hidden,” Mr. Seyburn added.
Nic wanted to scold him for encouraging her sister’s wild imagination. “I’ll leave the treasure hunting to you,” she replied with skepticism.
“Adventure sounds exhausting,” a sultry voice said from over her shoulder.
Nic turned, the hairs on her body standing on end as she discovered Mr. Denham standing right behind her with a wicked half smile.
She fought back the urge to return his smile. She didn’t even know if she could smile with such wicked intent.
“I have heard of such tunnels,” he said.
“Of course you have, it’s a well-known legend,” Mr. Seyburn said. “There is one such tunnel rumored to be beneath the King’s Hall.”
“Don’t forget one from the duke’s study to his bedroom. He uses that quite frequently, I’ve been told.”
“By who?” Seyburn asked.
“By the duke. It’s his escape route when he wants to avoid socializing.” Mr. Denham stroked his chin. “There is also legend of a hidden door behind the curtains that separate the Queen’s Drawing Room from the King’s Hall.
“For what purpose?” Nic asked.
Mr. Denham shrugged.
“Shall we go have a look?” Mr. Seyburn suggested.
Odette bounced on her toes, something she’d done since she was a little girl. It was perhaps the only habit she and Nic didn’t share.
“Lead the way, Mr. Seyburn. You’ve the most experience among us,” Mr. Denham said.
“What sort of experience is that?” Nic asked, earning herself a wink from Mr. Denham as if he enjoyed the subtle innuendo. But all she wanted to know was why.
“Mr. Seyburn here will soon be famous for his explorations. He absorbs history like a flower absorbs sun and uses his knowledge to try and solve the world’s mysteries. He’s been to the Floki Islands.”
“You have?” Odette asked in wonder. “I read about that place in the newspaper.”
“I have and I’ll be returning there next year with an excavation team and the renowned archaeologist, Sir Monroe. He’s invited me to help them explore the ruins of what may have been a druid temple.”
“Sounds intriguing and frightening,” Nic said.
Mr. Denham nodded. “History is not my favorite subject. I prefer the present.” As he said this, he offered his arm to Nic. She was supposed to stay away from him, and she was—or rather, she had been, but he’d come to her. It would be impolite to refuse, so she placed her hand on his sleeve. A small thrill shot up her arm as they made contact. Her lips tingled as if her hand had communicated to her lips that her fingers were being touched, and her lips were jealous of her hand.
They strolled into the house, not garnering too much attention since there were four of them. No one cared what they might be up to. They headed in the direction of the drawing room and down the three steps into the King’s Hall. The cavernous room was lined with tall windows on one side, letting in gallons of sun. The warm honey-toned wood that encompassed the room glowed invitingly. Nic had always held her breath as she looked up to the vaulted and intricately carved teak wood ceiling.
“I bet it’s dusty, Mr. Denham said. “How on earth would they ever dust that? I’ve never even seen them try.”
“Have you visited here a lot?”
How had she never known this magnificent creature was here?
“A few times throughout the years,” Mr. Denham said. “Maybe it’s magic. Maybe the ghosts do the dusting.”
“I don’t—”
“Believe in ghosts, yes, I remember. But they’re there whether we choose to believe or not. Watching everything we do, judging us for the ridiculous things we care about and the important things that we don’t.”
Nic giggled. “You’re very philosophical.”
He frowned. “Stop me next time I sound philosophical. I
can’t have people thinking I’m an intellectual. It would ruin my reputation.”
“What sort of reputation is that?” she prodded. Something in him made her want to dance with temptation.
He turned to face her at the bottom of the steps. “You’re courting trouble. Don’t be curious about me,” he warned her with a playful smile.
“It’s too late,” she said, drawing in a breath. Was she flirting? This felt perilously close to flirting. His smile broadened and he turned away.
The quartet stood at the foot of the stairs and surveyed the curtains. Thick, midnight blue velvet hung from ceiling to floor.
Theo raised a brow. “This could stop an invading army. You know, I’ve never really considered the magnitude of these curtains. Why the dev—deuce, does anyone need curtains this huge?”
“To keep in the warmth, obviously,” Odette replied. “Which side do you think the tunnel is on?”
“Do you know?” Mr. Seyburn asked Mr. Denham.
“I don’t remember, exactly. You and Miss Odette take that side, and Miss Nicolette and I will take the other.” He touched her elbow and escorted her away. “It’s clear you’re the nicer twin,” he whispered to Nic.
Nic smiled. She ought to defend her sister, but she was too pleased by the compliment. “Odette is very serious about treasure hunting, that I can tell.”
“But what about husband hunting? Isn’t that the more urgent matter?”
Nic shrugged. “It ought to be but not nearly as exciting.”
He snorted and let go of her elbow. He inspected the curtains, pushing them this way and that.
“I can’t even find the wall,” he said. “These things are a deathtrap. One could hide a body in here.”
“I don’t think that was the intent,” Nic said with amusement.
“One can never tell with Weirick,” he returned. “Here it is, at last.” He swept a heavy fold of drapery aside to reveal the wood paneling underneath, the same wood paneling that covered the rest of King’s Hall.