by Monica Burns
Infuriated by her stubborn refusal to discuss the matter, he freed her and took a quick step backward. She sent him a final glare before wheeling away from him and hurrying after the children. Driving a fist into his palm, he grunted with anger. The woman was more secretive than a pharaoh’s tomb. Those large hazel eyes of hers had held a definite gleam of fear, and he was determined to find out what she was so afraid of.
Constance pulled Jamie into her bedroom and sat him at her dressing table. Worried, she paced the floor, well aware that her son was watching her with angry puzzlement. She’d never considered the possibility that Jamie might possess her gift. Even though her brother Percy’s gift equaled hers and Patience’s, it had never occurred to her that Jamie would have the same gift. No, she’d considered the possibility. She’d simply hoped he’d be spared the burden.
Coming to a halt, she turned to look at Jamie’s stubborn expression. He was hurt and angry. She’d never spoken so fiercely to him before, and she understood his confusion. In two quick steps, she knelt in front of him. Clasping his hands in hers, she blinked back tears of regret.
“Jamie, did you really see Imogene’s father?” She immediately recognized the stubborn tilt of his head. If there was anything of her looks that he possessed, it was her expressions. “Please, darling. I need to know exactly what you saw.”
“I saw Imogene’s papa, and he talked to me,” Jamie said with a pout.
“Oh, God.” Bowing her head, she pressed her forehead against her son’s hands.
“What is it, Mother? What’s wrong?” The note of fear in his voice made her lift her head to look at him through the tears in her eyes. Hastily she brushed the wetness off her cheeks.
“Darling, you know how sometimes I have moments when I don’t know where I’ve been?” She waited as he nodded his head with a puzzled look. “That’s because I can see things just like you. It’s just that sometimes, I have dreams while I’m awake.”
“Is that what happened to you the night his lordship came home?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. I should have said something to you sooner. I think deep inside I was hoping you wouldn’t have the gift. And then today, when you came to me and said the earl didn’t believe you’d seen Imogene’s father, I panicked. You see, we can’t let the earl know about our gift. He doesn’t believe our gift is real.”
“But Imogene believes.” Jamie said with a frown.
“I know that, darling, but not everyone will believe. It’s very important for you to understand you can only tell people you truly trust. Even then the people you trust might be uncomfortable with your special talent.”
“Imogene isn’t.”
“I understand that, Jamie, but her uncle doesn’t feel the same way. There are a great many people like the earl, who won’t believe we can see and talk to the dead, my darling. They’re often frightened by our special gift. Sometimes that fear can make them say and do things that will hurt us. They might say we’re mad or call us liars.”
“Like Lord Lyndham did today?”
“Yes, darling, like his lordship did today,” she murmured, remembering the pain that had twisted her insides when Lucien had accused her of lying.
“Is it all right if I still tell Imogene when her father comes to see her?”
“Oh, Jamie,” she sighed, her heart torn between protecting him and easing the heartache of a little girl. “I don’t know. If Imogene were to accidentally say something to Lord Lyndham…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
His face wreathed in serious contemplation, he frowned and nodded his head. “All right, I’ll not say anything to Imogene if her father comes to the playroom again.”
Gently touching his cheek with her fingertips, she smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all of this sooner, darling. I was afraid to.”
“I know. Father said it might be hard for you to tell me you can see dead people.”
Startled, she pulled back from him slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Father visited me a long time ago. Or at least I think he was my father. He told me that he’d not been very understanding about your gift. He said he was sorry for that.”
Stunned, she sank back on her heels and stared at the boy in front of her. Graham had visited their son. The idea was so unbelievable, she didn’t know what to say or think. With a laugh, she shook her head. It would be just like Graham not to apologize to her directly, but to do it through Jamie. He’d always had a difficult time admitting he was wrong. Leaning forward, she hugged her son tightly.
“I’m glad he came to see you, Jamie. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
“He said I was to take care of you.”
“Your father never did think I could take care of myself without someone else’s help,” she said with a laugh. Climbing to her feet, she pulled Jamie up with her and bent over him to give him another hug. “Now then, why don’t you find Imogene and let her know you’re not in trouble. I’m sure she’s worried about you.”
With a nod, Jamie raced toward the door then slid to a halt before turning around and running back to her side. Wrapping his arms about her waist he squeezed her tight. “I’m glad you told me that you can see things too, Mother. I don’t feel all alone now.”
Her heart aching with love, she kissed the top of his head then laughed as he protested and wheeled about to race from her room. Watching him leave, she swallowed the knot in her throat as she recalled how Lucien had watched them both as she’d listened to Jamie explain how he could see Nigel.
It had taken every ounce of willpower not to panic more than she already had. The look on Jamie’s face when she’d ordered him to apologize had filled her with such guilt. Remorse gripped her as she remembered Jamie saying he no longer felt alone. She should have talked with him a long time ago. If she had, then he would never have mentioned his ability to see Nigel.
Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she recalled the confusion on Lucien’s face as she made Jamie apologize. She winced at the memory. Her fear of discovery had made her overreact. If only Lucien hadn’t sought her out. No, she was glad he had ridden out to find her. If he hadn’t, she wasn’t sure what might have happened to her or the children. Malcolm Standish was a dangerous man.
Despite her best efforts not to be frightened, the nightmarish images of her vision had only reinforced her opinion of the man. Lucien’s arrival had filled her with an overwhelming relief. Even the ferocity of his anger hadn’t frightened her.
The murderous expression on his face as he’d dismounted and approached the other man had told her there was something more between them than just the statue Standish had insisted she help him find.
With Standish gone, her heart had skipped with pleasure at Lucien’s return. It wasn’t until that moment she realized how much she’d missed him. But her happiness at seeing him again had vanished in a brief instant. When he had accused her of lying, it had been as if he’d branded her with a hot iron.
Now, with Jamie’s confession about Nigel, she feared it was only a matter of time before Lucien discovered she possessed the same ability. Only with her, he wouldn’t find it so easy to brush aside as if it were a childish prank. He would have to make a choice whether to believe her or not, and Lady Lyndham had made it perfectly clear what Lucien would believe.
If only she could understand what all of her visions meant. There were still too many pieces of the puzzle missing, and the images she’d seen when Standish had grabbed her shoulders had been the most frightening. The man with Standish had known she was there. How was that possible? It was something that had never happened to her before. And the flash of light he’d thrown at her. Was it a weapon her vision had disguised for some reason?
Frustrated, she grimaced and shook her head. This wasn’t the first time she’d been unable to make any sense of her visions. Better she focused on
something else for the moment. She would eventually figure out what the images meant. There was still time before supper to catalog several new artifacts, and occupying herself with Lucien’s collection would take her mind off this troubling puzzle.
Moving toward the door, she suddenly remembered the book she’d been reading the night before. There were several references in it that she wanted to compare against the collection. Turning around, she went to the nightstand where she’d laid it last night. Puzzled, she stared at the empty spot where she’d left the book.
She looked over her shoulder at the vanity table to see if she’d moved it, but it wasn’t there either. Baffled, she moved toward the vanity table and knelt to look under the front drawers of the furniture, fully expecting to find the book shoved underneath. Exasperated, she scrambled to her feet empty handed.
“Blast!”
The sound of her aggravation echoed through the bedroom as she returned to the nightstand and opened its two drawers, hoping she’d absently stored the book there for safe keeping. But it simply wasn’t there. Determined to find it, she quickly dropped to her hands and knees and lifted the heavy bed skirt that brushed the floor. Edging her way along the side of the large canopied bed, she peered into the dimly lit area beneath the mattress.
A dark shape caught her eye. Smiling with triumph, she reached for the book. When it suddenly moved and ran across her hand, she screamed. Jerking her hand out from under the bed, she screamed again as a small mouse ran along the edges of her skirt and darted across the room. The rodent scurried along the edge of the wall until it disappeared behind the wardrobe.
Intense fear made her muscles rigid and inflexible as she struggled to stand up. Few things frightened her, but a mouse could render her almost incapable of movement. Unable to halt her sobs of terror, she clutched at the bedpost and tried to pull herself upright.
The door of her room banged open as Lucien strode in like an avenging angel. At the sight of him, she shuddered as he quickly pulled her to her feet. The nerve endings on her skin screamed in protest at even his touch, and she twisted away from him in a violent move. Despite having seen the mouse run behind the wardrobe, she snatched up her skirt, frantically searching for any sign of the creature.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Lucien demanded as he reached out to touch her shoulder. Smacking his hand away, she uttered another small scream as her skin crawled with the memory of the rodent racing across her hand.
“A mouse…I was…it ran over my hand…it went…under the wardrobe.” Her words were small gasps between sobs of fear as she tried to explain her behavior.
In an instant, he caught her up in his arms, sweeping her off her feet. The relief from having her feet off the ground was instantaneous, and she closed her eyes with another sob as her arms slid around his neck. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she buried her face in his shoulder as she clung to him. His mouth brushed against her hair as he gently kissed the side of her brow.
“It’s all right, yâ sabāha. You’re safe. I won’t let anything harm you.”
The quiet strength in his voice soothed her, and the solid warmth of him was a welcome haven against the terror flooding her body with shudders. As the moments passed, her fear lessened and, with her face buried in the strength of his shoulder, it was impossible not to breathe in the deliciously spicy scent of him.
The sudden rush of awareness that cascaded over her senses sent liquid fire through her body, heating her from the inside out. Inhaling a ragged breath, she realized she needed to put distance between them for the sake of her sanity. She wiped first one cheek then the other dry as she lifted her head.
“Thank you, but I believe I’m well recovered from my fright. You can put me down now,” she murmured as she swallowed the urge to trail her fingers along the scar that slashed its way down his cheek.
“You’re certain?” Concern, mixed with something else, flashed in his brilliant blue eyes. Dragging her gaze away from his, she nodded her head.
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
Gently, he lowered her to the floor, his hands burning through the material of her gown to warm her waist. “I’ll see to it that one of the footmen comes up to find the mouse and dispose of it. It’s rare the keep ever has one, let alone that it reaches the second floor.”
“Thank you,” she said with a nod, as she stepped back from him. “I would feel much more comfortable not having to watch where I walk.”
For a fraction of a second, his hands resisted letting her go, betraying his desire to keep her in his arms. All too aware of her own needs, she squashed the emotions his touch aroused in her, forcing herself to turn away from him. She could not allow herself to come to care for a man who would reject an important part of who she was.
Remembering the book she’d been hunting for, she moved back to the nightstand and glared at the empty spot where she had left the book. Where the devil was it? She knew she’d not taken it downstairs with her to breakfast, and this was the first time she’d returned to her room since then.
“You were looking for something?”
Lucien’s quiet question made her turn her head to look at him. Even despite his concerned demeanor, there was a dangerous edge to his appearance that dried her mouth. He hadn’t changed out of his riding clothes yet, and she swallowed hard at the effect he had on her senses.
The polish on his boots gleamed in the room’s late afternoon sunshine, and his fawn breeches outlined his muscular thighs and legs. She remembered all too well the hard, flexible steel of his legs against hers the night they’d—
The memory of their lovemaking forced her to press one hand to her throat as she wheeled away from him. He looked dangerous because he was. There was nothing safe about Lucien at all when it came to protecting her heart. From the rakish scar on his cheek to his penetrating eyes, the man was a potent, mesmerizing force of raw masculine power.
Desperate to stem the desire suddenly sinking into every one of her pores, she made an effort to act as though she were still searching for her book.
“Yes, I was looking for a book Graham gave me on the story of Seth and Horus. It had some drawings I wanted to compare with the statue of Isis.” She grimaced as she remembered the other items she’d misplaced recently. “It’s the third item I’ve lost this week.”
“What other items are you missing?” Tension pulled the corners of his mouth tight, and his eyes glittered with an indecipherable emotion. The look on his face feathered a chill across her skin. What had she said to make him so incensed? She averted her gaze, uncertain what to make of his reaction.
“I can’t find a hairbrush my brother gave me for my sixteenth birthday and a brooch Jamie gave me this past Christmas.”
“Did you report the items missing to Mrs. Clarke, the housekeeper?” The dark note in his voice unnerved her.
“No, I’m sure they’re here somewhere,” she said with a wave of her hand as she turned her head to survey the room once more. “I just can’t recall where I placed them.”
Having searched all the likely places for the book, she suddenly realized how heavy the silence was in the room. Heat spread across her back, and she was certain it was because of his intense gaze. As she turned to face him, her heart skipped a quick beat as she realized he’d moved closer to her.
The distance between them was less than an arm’s length, and she froze, fascinated by the stray lock of black hair that had slipped down to caress his forehead. Before she could stop herself, she reached out to brush it back off his face. Shocked by her daring, she jerked her hand away from him as if she’d been burned.
His jaw clenched with tension, a muscle twitched in his cheek as his gaze met hers. The air in the room had suddenly become thick and hot, and warmth flooded her cheeks as she struggled to breathe normally.
“Do you know why I came back from London, yâ sabāha?”
H
is words were a soft growl, and she swallowed hard at the way his voice slipped an invisible rope around her, tugging her toward him. A familiar hunger swept through her, raw and powerful. It settled deep in her nether regions until she ached with a need she knew only he could fill.
Every time they’d touched, she’d been consumed with an unquenchable fire. A fire he created inside her with just one look. One caress. Even now she could feel the heat of it moving toward her, enticing her. Sweet, merciful God, she was mad to even want to be in his arms. He would reject her the moment he discovered her secret, and she didn’t think it was possible for her to keep her heart intact before or after that moment.
In the next instant, his hand caught her chin, and his thumb rubbed across her lower lip. The intensity of his look made her swallow hard, which was almost impossible to do since her mouth had gone dry several minutes before.
Frantic to break the spell she was under, she tried to breathe normally as she forced herself to step away from him. Skirting him, she moved toward her vanity when his arm wrapped around her waist and stopped her. Startled, she cried out softly as he pulled her backward and into his chest. The solid breadth of him pressed into her back, and she shuddered as his mouth caressed the edge of her ear lobe. Oh God, the man had simply to touch her and she was incapable of even thinking straight. Strong hands held her motionless against him as her breathing grew more ragged with each passing second. The low growl caressing her ear made her legs trembled as she fought to hold herself still against the warmth of him.
“I came back for you,” he rasped. “I came back because no matter how much I drank or gambled I couldn’t forget the scent of you, the heat of you, the fire of you.”
“Please, Lucien—”
“Come to me tonight, yâ sabāha. Let me pleasure you as you did me that day in the library. Let me worship you with my mouth, my hands, my entire body.”
She wanted to melt. There was no other description she could think of to describe the effect his seductive words had on her. Incapable of thinking clearly, she succumbed to his mesmerizing voice and nodded. Strong fingers bit gently into the soft flesh of her shoulders as his mouth caressed her neck in a light kiss.