by Lynn Kurland
He opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t even manage a single syllable before Peaches was popping up energetically to her feet.
“I’m teasing,” she said with another smile. “Thanks for coming.”
He could only nod and watch as she walked away, presumably to find her sister. He turned in his chair to have a better view of them as they met at the back of the hall. It was a little startling to see them standing there, mirrors of each other yet so unalike. No wonder he and Montgomery had received so many of the same sort of looks, never mind that those looks had usually been accompanied by some gesture to ward off evil.
Times had changed.
He rose when he realized Tess was coming toward him. She waved him back down into his seat and took the one across from him. He realized that he didn’t much care for that, but he thought that moving his chair next to hers might have been a bit much.
She looked impossibly tired, which led him to believe the evening had been a bigger drain on her than he’d suspected.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“I can’t remember.”
He glanced at the front door to find it locked, then rose and reached out to pull her to her feet. He kept her hand in his and led her toward the kitchens.
And he tried to ignore that he felt as if he’d done the like countless times before.
He saw her seated at the worktable, then put a kettle on for tea. He rummaged about in an enormous refrigerator, but the best he could do was eggs. A traditional English breakfast it would be, then.
He cooked, then looked over his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep on him. She hadn’t. She was watching him with what a duller man might have suspected was tolerance.
Affection was, he supposed, something to hope for as time wore on.
“I could do that,” she said.
“I imagine you could,” he said, “but I’ll do it instead.”
“Bossy even in the kitchen.”
He prepared two plates, then carried them over and set one down in front of her. “I like to be consistent.”
She smiled, then looked at what was in front of her. “I think I’m too tired to eat this, but it looks wonderful.”
“Force yourself.”
“Pass the chilled toast, then.”
He smiled and did so, then badgered and bullied her until she’d finished what he’d made for her. He washed up, put the Aga to bed for the night, then fetched his coat off the hook by the door and Tess from off her chair. He took her by the hand, then stopped in front of the fire in her great hall.
He handed her his coat. “I’ll check the doors.”
“They’re fine—” She shut her mouth. “Don’t say it.”
He shot her a look. “I will check the doors of the keep, Tess, to make certain you’re safe.”
“You said it.”
“You seem to need the reminder.”
She only watched him, silent and grave.
He did a more thorough job of it than usual, only because he didn’t trust any of the blighters who’d been lingering in her great hall. Apart from one tower door being propped open by a loose stone—something he found himself rather alarmed by—the rest of the hall seemed not to have suffered overmuch from the assault. He went so far as to look under what he assumed was Tess’s bed, reminded himself that offering to sleep on the floor in front of her fire would be a very odd thing to do, then jogged down the stairs and out into the great hall.
Tess was asleep in the chair in front of the fire.
He stood in the middle of that great hall for far longer than he should have, allowing himself to entertain thoughts he shouldn’t have for far longer than was wise. He never would have imagined during the last time he’d stood in the middle of Sedgwick’s great hall with a sword at his side and his only method of transportation being his mount that he might one day be standing there in far different garb, admiring a woman who loved what he’d grown to manhood surrounded by but had no idea how well acquainted he was with the same.
Life was very strange.
He walked over to the fire and squatted down in front of her. He put his hand over hers, trying not to startle her. She opened her eyes, blinked, then looked at him.
She smiled.
He closed his eyes briefly, then attempted a smile in return. “All the doors are locked.”
“Thank you,” she said sleepily.
“Can you get yourself to bed?”
“That I think I can manage on my own.”
“Just trying to be chivalrous.”
She pursed her lips and held out his coat. “I wouldn’t want you to use it all up.”
He rose, then held out his hand for hers. She looked at his hand, then up at him, then hesitated again before she put her hand in his.
He understood why. It was rather earth-shattering.
But not so terrible that he couldn’t bring himself to keep her hand in his as he walked across the great hall with her. It was madness, even thinking to start up any sort of relationship with her, but he was afraid he might have already crossed the line into lunacy.
He paused at the door, then looked down at her. “I suppose it would be unwise to suggest we see each other sooner than Wednesday.”
“I suppose it would be,” she agreed. “Though I appreciate the rescue tonight.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “Another party tomorrow night?”
“A small one,” she said. “Just supper for twenty.”
He smiled. “After tonight, I can see why that seems small.”
“And they’re all very well behaved,” she said. “Londoners entertaining out-of-town clients. I’ll just welcome everyone at the front door, then spend the rest of the time in the kitchen, making sure the white sauce doesn’t burn.”
“It doesn’t sound so taxing that you couldn’t patronize a National Trust site in the morning,” he said thoughtfully, “if you had sauce-stirring aid in the evening.” He paused. “Knole House?”
She took a deep breath. “If you like.”
“I’m more interested in what you would like.”
“Accommodating tonight, aren’t you?”
“You should probably take advantage of it.”
“I love Knole House,” she said with a smile. “It’s a very luxurious place.”
“They had no idea how luxurious, I’m sure,” he muttered under his breath. He opened the door, squeezed her hand, then released it and walked out onto the top step. He continued down to the courtyard before he turned and looked up at her. He thought keeping those steps between them was a very circumspect thing to do, though it left her rather farther out of reach than he cared for. He put his coat on, then jammed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll pick you up at ten.”
She leaned against the doorframe. “All right.”
He nodded, then paused. “Can I trust you would tell me to shove off if you didn’t want to see me again?” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t given you much choice about it in the past, just showing up as I have uninvited.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. He could only hope that was because she would have preferred to wrap her arms around him but was being discreet.
“I would tell you.”
He nodded, then shooed her inside. “Bolt the door, Tess. I want to hear you do it.”
“How have I lived here so safely this long without you to make sure I locked the doors?” she asked lightly.
“I’ve only been here since the end of summer,” he said seriously. “I would have come sooner if I’d known.”
“That I needed my doors checked?”
“That, too.”
She caught her breath, then managed a smile. “Go home, you awful man.”
Perhaps she was not as unaffected as he feared. “Am I bothering you?”
She rolled her eyes, then stepped back inside. “Thank you for the dancing and the rescue. Now, go away.”
He kept his hands in his pockets and his feet on her courtyard, b
ecause it was safer that way. He waited until she’d shut the door, listened for the bolt to be thrown home, then turned and walked slowly across her courtyard. He didn’t dare take as many deep breaths as he might have wanted to at another time, because he feared he might begin to hyperventilate if he did. So he simply walked slowly and ignored all the reasons that dating Tess Alexander was a very bad idea indeed.
If she had any idea who he was, she would—
He stopped in mid-step as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He looked up, but there were no lads on the battlements, no glint of sword or spear in the moonlight, no beeping of a watch or mobile phone. He was tempted to go back inside and insist that he would be sleeping on Tess’s floor, but he supposed that would only frighten the lady of the house unnecessarily.
He walked around the courtyard just the same, until he was sure it was empty.
It was late and his imagination was running away with him.
He had a final look about, glanced at the front door to make sure it was still locked, then took himself through the barbican gate and across the bridge. He continued to look about himself casually, but saw nothing untoward.
There were no additional cars in the car park and no modern torches flickering in the forest. Tess was behind impenetrable walls, and he was no more than a phone call away.
He took a deep breath, put his unease behind him, and walked out to the car park. It was empty save his Vanquish and Tess’s little red Ford.
Still ...
He took a deep breath and shrugged aside his unease. Tess’s doors were all locked, and hopefully she would have the good sense to lock her bedchamber door. She would be safe enough for the night.
And he would be there perhaps earlier than he’d intended to on the morrow, just to see if there might be something inadvertently left behind that might explain his unease.
If not, Tess might find herself having an extra houseguest for the foreseeable future.
Chapter 11
Tess had always wondered what it had felt like to be in a pitched battle. She’d just never expected to learn while standing on her own property.
She clasped her hands behind her back, realizing only as she did so that it was what John did when he was trying to be unassuming. She was surprised to find she wished he were standing next to her at the moment. Not even Mrs. Tippets could possibly be immune to his charming smile.
Mrs. Tippets, however, was apparently not finding anything overly charming about her smile.
“Mr. Beagle,” Mrs. Tippets said stiffly, “is the gentlest of beasts. He is beloved by all the young people in my neighborhood.”
Tess looked at the small terrier baring his fangs and looking at her ankles as if he’d just bellied up to a tasty Texas barbeque. She looked at Mrs. Tippets and put on her best deal-with-crotchety-tenured-professors voice.
“I can see that,” she said soothingly, “and I’m sure he’s very loving in his home environment. I’m afraid, though, that here he might be less than comfortable.”
“What can you possibly mean?” Mrs. Tippets demanded.
“He’s chasing off customers,” Tess said as politely as she could. “He does seem to like children, but not their parents. I’m having complaints about rips in trousers and stockings.”
“Perhaps they’re lingering a bit too long, looking at my wares,” Mrs. Tippets said, her back ramrod straight. “I don’t like lingerers.”
Tess took a deep breath and waded into the breach, because she had no choice. “Mrs. Tippets, the truth is, these wares are meant to be sold. It’s how I help keep the castle in the black. Mr. Beagle is getting in the way of that, so I must insist that you either keep him crated during your time here or leave him at home. I’m going to be faced with a lawsuit one of these days, or a hefty bill for emergency stitching and rabies shots.”
“He does not have rabies!”
Tess glanced briefly around the shop. It was immaculately kept, true, but overstuffed with things that didn’t seem to be selling very well. She had the feeling that was because Mrs. Tippets didn’t want to sell anything very well. She didn’t really want to fire the woman, but she was starting to think she didn’t have a choice. At the moment, she had ample money to keep the lights on in the hall, but that might not always be the case. If there was money she could make in the gift shop, it didn’t make business sense not to make it.
She looked at Mrs. Tippets pointedly. “Crate or home, Mrs. Tippets. With all due respect.”
Mrs. Tippets sniffed. Tess wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman barricaded herself into the shop and collected a stash of resin figurines to lob at her if she dared walk through the door. Perhaps she would leave that delight for another day. She nodded firmly, then walked out of the shop and back across her bridge.
She realized as she was halfway across it, that she wasn’t dreading going inside.
The realization was so overwhelming, she had to stop and think about it for a minute. It wasn’t that the pain of losing Pippa was any less, it was just . . . well, she had one gigantic distraction in the person of Pippa’s husband’s brother, that’s what it was.
She continued on her way thoughtfully, then stopped on the edge of her courtyard, surprised at the sight that greeted her.
John was walking slowly around the courtyard, looking down at the ground at his feet as if he looked for something in particular. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was looking for clues.
Odd.
She walked across the grass, but he was apparently very focused on what he was doing because he didn’t turn around when she reached him. And since he was so busy being otherwise occupied, she thought it might be an opportunity to look at him.
Well, what she wanted to do was put her arms around him and not let go, but maybe that was premature. She honestly wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He’d stood inside her hall door the night before and looked at her as if he might have wanted to kiss her. She’d fully expected his next reaction to be abrupt flight out of her courtyard. That he’d lingered said something, didn’t it? And that he’d shown back up several days before he’d said he would said something else, didn’t it?
She supposed it did.
She reached out to touch his shoulder—
And found herself with her clock not cleaned only because she had good reflexes and she ducked before he decked her. Or, rather, chopped her head off with a sword he fortunately wasn’t holding in his hands.
He reached out and helped her straighten, then closed his eyes briefly and blew out his breath. “Sorry.”
“You’re on edge.”
He looked as if he were—and not at all happy about it. He considered, then carefully gathered her into his arms. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it for not nearly as long as she would have liked. Cooler heads had to prevail, she supposed.
She sighed and stepped away from him. “Bad habit to start, probably.”
He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Right.” He looked at her gravely. “Ready?”
“Yes, after you tell me what you were doing.”
“Nothing much,” he said with a shrug.
He was a terrible liar, really. She would have pushed him on it, but she supposed it wouldn’t be a good way to start her day. “I promised Peaches I’d look through my mail, but I can do that quickly.” She paused. “You can keep looking out here for whatever you weren’t looking for, if you want.”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll carry on my non-investigations inside, if you don’t mind.”
She didn’t mind. She also didn’t mind when he merely walked with her instead of taking her hand. It was hard enough to keep herself grounded when she was too close to him. Holding his hand might have been just too much.
She left him wandering around the great hall and went into the lord’s solar to quickly dig through the pile of mail that had been staring at her resentfully for days. She was happy to find there were no bills—her accou
ntant was obviously doing his job—and that the catalogs had been kept to a minimum. She set aside what she could see were inquiries about booking her hall, then found herself with a final letter in her hands.
A very official-looking letter, actually.
She opened it, read it, then had to feel her way down against her desk. She reread it again, then was almost positive she started to see stars. She looked up for help only to find John de Piaget standing in the doorway, leaning against it casually, watching her. He must have seen something he didn’t care for in her expression because he pushed away from the door and walked over to her quickly.
“What is it?”
She realized to her horror that the reason she was holding what she held in her hands was because Roland of Sedgwick had somehow figured out how to prove she was related to one of the early lords of Sedgwick, no doubt through his wife.
Not exactly something she wanted John to see.
Unfortunately, he relieved her of her letter before she could hide it behind her back. She clapped her hand over her eyes and wondered if that was going to spell the beginning of the end for her just as meeting Stephen had likely signaled the same for John. She took a deep breath, then peeked at him through her fingers to see if he was wearing that look that said he’d come just a little too close to his past.
He wasn’t. He was simply reading, a faint smile on his face. He finished, then turned to lean against the desk next to her. “Well, it looks as if the ranks of British nobility have been infiltrated by a dastardly Yank.”
“So it seems,” she managed. And it wasn’t the first time those ranks had been breached, she could guarantee that.
“Tess Alexander, Countess of Sedgwick,” he mused. “I like it. And an hereditary honor. I wonder how—”
“Don’t know,” she said briskly, taking the letter from him. “All I do know is that I’m going to be a laughingstock at school.”
He smiled, a little smile that she had to pause in mid-rant to admire. “I don’t know why. I’m very impressed. Now, if milady would permit me, I would be pleased to escort her to one of our national treasures. Perhaps you can flash your nobility card and earn us an entrance gratis.”