by Eva Shepherd
Charles entered and placed a tray of tea and sandwiches on the side table.
Her heart thudding with guilt, she nodded her thanks and without comment he departed.
She was so naughty. It really was not right for a woman to behave in such a manner, even if no one could actually see her. Even though it had just been a bit of childish fun, the sooner her own clothes were returned to her the sooner she would be able to leave and stop misbehaving.
‘I do hope Charles is able to dry out my clothing soon,’ she said. ‘I’m very grateful for the change of clothes, but I will have to change back into my own before I go home. If my mother saw me dressed like this she would be mortified.’
‘You won’t be going home tonight,’ the Earl said, not turning from the fire.
Iris stared at him, wide eyed. What on earth did he mean? Was he going to force her to stay all night? Was he now about to turn into that depraved creature she had feared? Should she be scared? Making a run for the nearest door? A man she did not know was threatening to trap her in his home, and yet that unfamiliar sensation deep within her was not fear. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it most definitely was not fear.
‘This storm will not be over before daybreak,’ he continued. ‘I will not risk my coachman’s life by sending him out in this weather.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She laughed to cover her embarrassment. Is that really what she thought he would do? That he was going to keep her captive in his castle so he could use her for his own licentious pleasure? She squirmed slightly in her chair and her naked toes curled up on the woollen rug. She really had been reading far too many gothic novels. Held captive, indeed. What a joke.
‘No, I wouldn’t want to put anyone’s life at risk,’ she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her overreaction.
He humphed his approval. ‘We can only hope that your family are equally sensible and don’t risk anyone’s life either by sending out a search party in this weather.’
Iris shook her head. ‘No, they won’t. They don’t know I’m missing.’ Her hand shot to her mouth as if to take back those words. Why had she told him that? He had already told her she would not be leaving until the morning. Did he really need to know that no one would be looking for her?
‘Well, I’m sure they will notice I am missing, eventually,’ she continued. Why did she keep imagining he was about to imprison her in his castle? Lock her up in the turret? If anything, he had given her every impression that she was here under sufferance, and if there weren’t a storm outside he would be tossing her out at the first opportunity he got.
‘I’m sure they will,’ he said, his voice sounding bored as he stretched in his chair, drawing Iris’s gaze to his long legs.
Thank goodness there wouldn’t be a search party. She wouldn’t want to put anyone to any trouble, but more than that, it would all be too embarrassing to be caught out in a lie and to be found in her present awkward situation. Her eyes flicked back to his face as her cheeks reddened. But her mother thought she was tucked up safe and sound in her own bed, behaving herself as a proper young lady should, and hopefully would not be tempted to check on her daughter before morning.
‘I’ve asked Charles to prepare a room for you, and the coachman to take you home first thing in the morning, weather permitting.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
They fell back into silence. Iris looked around the room for something else to talk about. Nothing came to mind. Her gaze returned to the untouched tea and sandwiches. Although neither hungry nor thirsty, she poured herself a cup and added a dash of milk. At least that gave her something to do, which was preferrable to sitting in silence or desperately trying to make strained conversation with the austere Earl. And perhaps tea and sandwiches would distract her overly imaginative mind from inappropriate thoughts about ravishment and imprisonment.
‘The butler has only brought one cup. Shall I ring for another?’
‘I don’t drink tea,’ he said.
And you don’t believe in making polite conversation either, or in putting your guests at their ease.
Picking up her teacup, she looked over at him, sitting slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He really was the most inhospitable, grouchy man she had ever met. Perhaps whatever had caused his scarring had also caused him to become cantankerous. She supposed that being blind could make a person bad-tempered and bitter.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she continued to stare at him. But it didn’t have to. Her Uncle Henry was blind, but he was still a friendly, lovely man. But then, like herself, Uncle Henry was surrounded by a warm, happy family, not living alone with only servants and a dog for company.
Although, surely that was his choice and if he didn’t like being alone he should just change it. And he did have a lot to be grateful for, such as this wonderful home, plus, despite his scars, he was still an extremely handsome man. Iris was sure she would not be the only woman to think so.
She continued to stare at him and wondered if he knew just how good-looking he was. His dark hair was thick and perhaps a little long for what was fashionable, but it gave him a certain rakish quality, like a buccaneer or warrior of old. She was tempted to reach over and smooth it down, or perhaps to ruffle it up even more with her fingers. She smiled. Wouldn’t he be shocked if she did so?
Her gaze moved down to his strong jawline, which was shadowed by dark stubble. Perhaps he had not shaved today. Although, if he did not like having visitors, she wondered why he bothered to shave at all. He could grow a long, tangled beard like a hermit and who would care?
Yet it seemed he did care. His clothing was fashionable, clean and tidy, his boots were buffed to a high shine and his cravat was expertly tied. And he did wear his clothes rather well. Her gaze ran down his body, dressed in a dark grey suit. He certainly had a nice physique. Her scrutiny moved along his legs, where she could see the outline of his thigh muscles under the fabric of his trousers, then slowly back up his body, to his narrow hips, flat stomach under his white linen shirt, and broad shoulders. No, there was certainly nothing wrong with his body. And at over six feet, he’d be head and shoulders above her own five feet six.
Iris smiled to herself and sighed with satisfaction. Observing him like that had been rather pleasant. It was certainly nice to be able to stare at a man without his knowing or without causing any breach of propriety. She was usually the one on the receiving end of such scrutiny, as men weighed up her beauty to see if she was worthy of their attentions. Now she was doing the same. And if she was in the market for a grumpy, rude, irritable recluse, his appearance would make him top of her list.
‘So, have you finished staring at me?’ he said, causing Iris to jump in her seat and her teacup to rattle in its saucer.
‘How did you...? I was not staring at you.’ She pulled her shoulders back in a demonstration of being affronted and placed the cup on the table with a defiant clink.
‘I might be blind, but I’m not an imbecile. What else would you be doing, sitting there in silence, not moving?’
‘I might have been staring into the fire? Or... Or...’ Iris looked around the room for inspiration.
‘Well, were you?’
She paused and turned back to face him. ‘If you’re so clever, can you tell what I am doing now?’ She poked out her tongue and glared at him.
‘No, but I suspect you are either pulling a rude face or making a rude gesture.’
‘I would never make a rude gesture,’ Iris said, completely taken aback.
‘A rude face, then. What was it? Did you cock a snook, poke out your tongue?’
Iris crossed her arms, determined not to answer him.
‘Well?’
‘I poked out my tongue, if you must know. But it was nothing less than you deserved.’
He swirled his brandy. ‘Is that always how you behave when someone
takes you in out of the rain and gives you shelter? Or is it only when you’re in the company of someone who is blind?’
‘No, not usually,’ she shot back. ‘But it is how I behave when someone is rude to me.’
Iris wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. As a young lady who had been taught to always behave with impeccably good manners in every situation, she had never poked her tongue out at anyone before, ever. But then, she had never met anyone who was so rude to her. Every other man she met socially did the opposite, going out of his way to try and impress her, to show himself to be an amiable, likeable young man. Whereas the Earl seemed determined to make her dislike him. And in that he was succeeding.
She waited for him to say something, to explain himself, to put an end to this embarrassing situation, but he said nothing. He merely took another sip of his brandy, as if there was nothing more to be said on the subject, and they sank back down into an even more uncomfortable silence.
Iris suppressed an annoyed sigh and stirred another sugar cube into her tea. The fire crackling in the grate and the occasional growl from the dog as he slept were the only noises breaking the silence. If he was going to continue in this manner, either not speaking, or when he did speak being insufferably rude, it was going to be a very long evening indeed.
Chapter Three
Theo ground his teeth together to stop a groan of exasperation from escaping. Having to spend the night in the company of this dizzy chatterbox was going to make this a very long evening indeed.
Not that all his evenings weren’t long, but at least they were quiet. Just as he liked it. He scratched Max’s head. The dog grunted his contentment. Max was all the company he needed. He did not need pretty young things coming into his home with their irritatingly sunny dispositions and mindless prattle.
He looked in the direction of the teaspoon clinking against the teacup. It was easy to tell that she was young and pretty. The swish of her skirts when she had first entered showed the quick, lithe movements of a young woman. And the tone in her voice was that of a woman who was used to being admired. It was obvious that when she spoke to a man she expected him to respond with rapt attention and flattery. Well, that was wasted on him. He had no time for young ladies who wanted men to shower them with compliments and fall under their spell every time they fluttered their eyelashes or pursed their pretty lips. The one good thing that had come from his injuries was that he would never again fall prey to such coquettishness.
‘What’s the dog’s name?’ she asked, her voice still holding that grating sing-song quality.
‘Max.’
At the sound of his voice, Max stirred and sat up.
‘Oh, aren’t you a beauty?’ Max’s head moved from under his hand, and his paws padded across the floor to Lady Iris. ‘Oh, yes, you are, you’re quite the beauty.’
To Theo’s disgust the traitorous Max’s tail started thumping on the floor, encouraging her in her flattery and caresses. Unlike himself, Max was not immune to the attentions of an attractive woman.
‘I’ve got a pug dog at home called Sookie. She’s lovely too. Isn’t she? Yes, she is. Oh, yes, she is. I think you and Sookie would be the best of friends, wouldn’t you?’
The childlike tone of her voice made Theo wince, but the dog’s yelp of encouragement and the increased vigour of his thumping tail suggested Max found nothing wrong with being doted on and spoken to as if he were a two-year-old child.
‘She’s a lovely, lovely dog...just like you, Maxie-Waxie.’
Theo clicked his fingers. ‘Heel, Max,’ he ground out. The dog was a noble Irish wolfhound, not a frivolous little pug dog, and should not be treated in a manner that undermined his dignity.
Maxie-Waxie, indeed.
Max slunk over to Theo and with a small groan of annoyance settled down at his feet. Theo scratched the dog’s head in consolation, wishing he could explain to the animal that pretty women who owned pug dogs were to be avoided at all cost. They were frivolous, flighty and not to be trusted with anyone’s heart, man or beast.
He also wished this damn storm would settle down so this Lady Iris Springfeld could be placed in a carriage and removed from his presence. But the howling in the trees, the scratching of the branches against the windows, and the persistent hissing of rain on the roof made it clear that the storm would not be over this night. He could only hope that tomorrow the roads would not be waterlogged and that she would not be forced to stay another day. Theo doubted if he could stand it.
A rhythmic tapping drew his attention back to Lady Iris. It seemed she was now drumming her fingers on the side table.
‘This really is a rather lovely room.’ He heard her stand up and move away. It was no longer the swish of a skirt that moved around the room, but the gentle rub of fabric from her trousers as she walked. When he had been standing beside her, he had estimated her height as about five feet six, so she must be swamped by his clothing. But the confident way she strode round the room suggested that she was not in the slightest bit embarrassed about being attired in such a manner. But then, there was no one to see her, was there? No real man to feel embarrassed in front of. No one whose opinion she should worry about. Only him, a man who was no threat to any woman.
He lifted his glass to throw back his drink but discovered the glass was empty. That irritating woman was driving him to drink, at least to drink even more than he usually did.
‘In fact, the whole house is rather splendid. When was it built?’ Her voice carried from across the room.
Was she taking an inventory? Weighing up his obvious disadvantages against what he was worth? If she was, she was wasting her time.
He drew in a deep breath before answering. ‘The original castle was built in the mid-fifteenth century, but it has been added to constantly over the years.’ Hopefully that would satisfy her.
‘Yes, I noticed the castle ramparts when I was coming up the driveway—very scary, especially in a storm.’ She gave an annoying little laugh.
Not scary enough to warn you off though, unfortunately, Theo wanted to add.
‘This room I would guess is early Georgian. Spacious, ornate ceiling, large floor-to-ceiling windows, and that chandelier is rather magnificent. I wonder what it looks like when it’s lit up.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said, hoping his terse manner would make her be quiet.
‘No, I suppose not,’ she said, her voice gentle, causing a small spark of guilt to erupt deep inside him. Of course he knew what the room was like, knew exactly how magnificent the chandelier looked when it was fully lit. How it sent light sparkling round the room. Hadn’t he hosted many a social event in this very room before his accident? Hadn’t he enjoyed seeing the house full of elegantly dressed people, all partaking of his hospitality? And hadn’t he, most of all, enjoyed seeing Estelle dressed in all her finery? His beautiful fiancée had always been the most attractive woman in the room. And hadn’t he relished the look of envy on every man’s face?
But that was before he knew what beautiful young women were really like. That was before the world had turned its back on him. He poured himself another brandy, and furiously swirled the aromatic drink round in the glass.
She returned to her seat and said nothing more. Perhaps now she was actually going to be quiet. But no. Within a matter of seconds the relentless drumming of the fingers started again, until it felt as if the noise was crashing into his skull and drowning out the sound of the raging storm.
He reached out to still the noise. His hand covered hers, the skin soft and warm against his palm. Momentarily he froze, his mind swamped by unwanted sensations, then his hand jerked back as if scalded.
‘Stop doing that. It’s annoying,’ he snapped with more force than he intended.
‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to... I, um... What exactly was I doing?’
Her constricted voice sounded as confused as he was feel
ing.
‘You were drumming your fingers on the table.’
‘Oh, was I? Sorry.’
Why did she have to make him feel like such a brute? He was in his own house. Surely if he didn’t want her making that infernal racket, he had every right to stop her. And why did touching her hand have such a profound and unexpected effect on him? He made a tight fist to try and crush the lingering imprint of her silken skin.
‘I’m surprised you could hear it above the sound of the wind.’ She gave another annoying little laugh, stood up and resumed walking round the room. He tried not to listen to the sound of the trouser legs rubbing against each other. The last thing he needed to think about was young women’s legs.
Fabric rustled loudly as she pushed back the curtains. ‘The rain’s coming down even heavier now and the wind is so strong the rain is almost horizontal. Thank goodness I found your house when I did. I’d hate to be still wandering around in this weather.’
She was doing it again. Making him feel like an inhospitable brute. But then, that was exactly what he was. He was inhospitable because he did not want guests in his house. And the accident had turned him into a brute, a man that Estelle couldn’t bear to look at.
But the unwelcome visitor was right. She had needed refuge from the storm and had not chosen to invade his privacy. Presumably if given a choice of where to take sanctuary it would not have been with him. He had no right to treat her like the enemy simply because circumstances had thrown them together. And tomorrow she would be gone. Then he could forget all about her. All he had to do was endure this one night and try and remember how he was supposed to behave when hosting a guest.
‘Yes, it was lucky you found this house,’ he said, trying to sound less irritated. ‘There are no other houses for miles around.’
The curtain rustled back into place as she dropped it and walked back to her chair. She emitted a small sigh, the leather creaking slightly as she sat down, then those fingers started drumming again. Theo clasped his hand tightly around his brandy balloon so he would not be tempted to touch her one more time.