“Fine with me, of course, even if she is twisting and turning. Of course I tried to stop her from brushing her hair, but she wouldn’t listen. Said she’d never get the tangles out. Refused to let me help her.”
“The bloody little fool!”
Luc pounded up the stairs, a thunderous look on his face.
Bram watched him go, a smile spreading over his boyish features. Yes, his little scheme was moving nicely toward fruition.
~ 25 ~
He pounded up the stairs and threw open her door.
Silver was propped against the pillows, her face pale with strain as she dug a brush through her tangled hair.
“What in the name of heaven do you think you’re doing?”
Silver glared at him mutinously, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’m endeavoring to brush my hair. What does it look like?”
“Like you’re trying to split that wound open, that’s what!”
“How would you know? I’m certain you’re far too busy with all your felonious concerns to spare any time for me. And that’s exactly how I want it. What interest could a highwayman possibly hold for me?” Silver’s brush snagged in a particularly large tangle. She struggled to push it forward and gasped when the movement sent pain jarring through her side.
“Stop, you fool!” Luc stalked to the bed, and grabbed the brush from Silver’s fingers.
She glared at him, her shoulders stiff. “Go away. I don’t want you. Bram can help me.”
“Bram’s gone. I’m here now, and I’m the one who’s going to help you.”
“Why?” Her eyes were filled with anger and confusion. “I’m nothing but a bother to you. The sooner I get away from this house the better. Oh, leave me alone. Just leave me alone!” She twisted away, her eyes shut tightly.
Luc watched a single tear slip down onto her cheek. Something hard and cold twisted in his chest at the sight.
Don’t cry, Sunbeam, he thought. Don’t let me make you cry.
But he said nothing. His jaw locked as he eased down beside her and pulled her gently against his chest. Then he began to work the brush through the thick, gleaming length of her hair.
She didn’t move, not by a muscle. He could feel her angry tension where her stiff shoulders pressed against him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you used to live here?”
He heard her indrawn breath.
“Your man Tinker told Jonas. And you haven’t answered my question, Silver.”
She shrugged. “I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”
Luc frowned. “Uncomfortable?”
“That it used to be ours. You’d worry how it would make us feel to come back.”
Luc started to tell her it didn’t matter. That it would take a lot more than a little thing like that to make a notorious highwayman like him uncomfortable.
But it would have been a lie. He had a clear sense of just what she must feel in coming back to a house where she’d known happiness and love, only to lose both.
She was right. The thought left him vastly uncomfortable. “I’m very sorry.”
“You needn’t be. The house looks wonderful. Everything is much improved over what it was like when we … left.”
Luc heard the regret in her voice. In that moment he understood how deeply the wounds of her father’s death still cut. “You did what you could.”
“Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. What use are all the good intentions in the world if you don’t succeed?”
Luc had no answer. It was a question he had asked himself all too often.
And then he heard the one question he didn’t want to hear, the one question he’d been trying to hide from himself.
“Why didn’t you come?”
His jaw tensed.
Because I was afraid to come.
Because I knew if I came, I wouldn’t be able to leave.
Because you’re young and decent and everything I’m not.
“I … was busy.”
“Sometimes you are a very bad liar, highwayman.” Silver’s eyes were dark with anger and pain. “If you want me gone, you have only to tell me.”
“It’s not that.”
“No? Then what?”
There was no answer, no answer safe enough to tell her, at least. So he simply pulled her back against him, letting the brush slide through the last tangles at her shoulder.
“I hate you, do you know that?” Her voice was ragged, unsteady.
“Of course you do, Sunbeam.”
“And I don’t like this either. I’m only letting you do it because — because I can’t manage by myself.”
“The only practical thing under the circumstances.” His voice was carefully matter-of-fact.
But she didn’t fool him for a second. She was very close to breaking at that moment.
And her vulnerability, more than anything else, proved to Luc that he had been right to stay away from her, that his presence would only bring her more pain.
She held herself stiff, her fingers locked on the coverlet, the whole time he worked at her hair. Luc thought he might have seen another tear roll down her cheek, but he couldn’t be certain.
One thing he did know. He had hurt her once.
And he had a sickening feeling that he’d hurt her yet again before she was well enough to leave Waldon Hall.
~ ~ ~
Two days passed. Bram kept Silver company, reading books from Luc’s well-stocked library and regaling her with tales of Cromwell’s antics in the kitchen. There had been only one other incident at Lavender Close, but thanks to the six extra men Luc had hired, Tinker and Jonas had driven the attackers off handily.
Tinker was flushed with victory now, his shoulders thrown back, his chest proud. Even Bram was a bit jealous, wishing he could have been there to see the villains routed.
Silver nodded and listened to the accounts, relieved that Tinker and the farm were safe. But her mind wasn’t entirely on the stories. Some part of her kept drifting away to a book-lined study where a hard-eyed man paced back and forth.
And still he did not come to her.
The wind had finally dropped and twilight was falling over Waldon Hall when Bram bade her a cheerful good-night and made his way off for another raid on Luc’s library.
The air through the window was rich with honeysuckle and mock orange. Silver knew she would never forget the smell, no more than she would the citrus scent of Luc’s soap and the hint of brandy and leather on his pillows.
Except for a dull ache in her side her wound was faring much better. Now there was really no reason for her to stay.
Except that she longed to, and that longing grew more dangerous with every breath she took.
For one wild moment she considered feigning a relapse or twisting about until the wound reopened. But Silver discarded the idea as unworthy. Her father had taught her that problems should be met squarely, and she would do just that.
Gritting her teeth, she eased to the edge of the bed and pushed to her feet. A dull ache shot through her rib as she caught up a shawl and lapped it tightly around her side. The pressure eased her pain, cushioning her movements.
Then Silver made her way to the door, determined to see Luc once before she had to leave.
~ ~ ~
He would be in the ballroom. Bram had told her that he went there to fence every evening.
Holding her candle high, Silver moved past the library, where Bram’s dark head was bent over a stack of books. She felt a stab of worry that she was unable to provide her brother with enough opportunities for his keen mind at Lavender Close.
Someday, Bram, she promised silently.
A bar of light fell from the door into the ballroom. Silently she moved closer.
She found Luc in a vast room lit by dancing candles. His shirt was thrown over a chair and his bronze torso gleamed in the candlelight, beaded with diamonds of sweat. He moved with the swift grace of a dancer — and all the lethal power of a panther. Again and again he ja
bbed, lashing at empty air, evading the thrusts of an unseen enemy.
Silver’s breath caught at the grace and power of his movements. The man was indeed a master. She understood now why Bram had been so awed after his lessons. And yet there was something dark about Luc’s concentration, something chilling about his fierce focus.
Once again, Silver realized just how little she knew about this man.
Without warning Luc reached low and sent a slashing blow upward to an unseen enemy’s heart. The move was executed with flawless skill, and with such ruthless fury that Silver gasped.
Luc spun about, foil raised. His eyes were iron hard and his face was blank, that of a stranger. For a moment Silver wondered if he even recognized her.
She stood frozen, one hand to her chest, thinking for a wild moment that he meant to run forward and impale her.
And then he frowned. His blade fell.
“This is madness, woman. What are you doing out of bed?”
“You didn’t come. I waited all day. Tinker changed the dressing and pronounced me on the mend, but he said you were too busy to see me. I don’t understand,” Silver said, her voice breaking. “Is my presence so abhorrent to you?”
She swayed slightly, her fingers pressed to the carved door frame.
Cursing, Luc strode to her side.
But Silver pushed him away, her chin high. “I can manage perfectly. I’ve been managing perfectly for years. Don’t think I need your help, highwayman. Don’t think I need anything from you, because I don’t. None of us do,” she said fiercely. “And when dawn comes tomorrow, we’ll be out your door and down your drive, gone from your life forever. Oh, no, we certainly wouldn’t want to disorder your perfect routine of felony! And I won’t look back.” Tears glittered on her cheeks. “Not even once!”
A muscle flashed at Luc’s jaw. “Of course you won’t, Sunbeam.”
“Don’t call me that.” Silver felt a burning in her throat. “Never again, do you hear?”
“If you wish.” His voice was like silk.
Too easy, Silver thought wildly. Too easy to love him. Too easy to need him. Too easy to want his arms around her, his lips locked hot and claiming over hers.
“I’ll admit that you’ve been kind to Bram,” she went on. “He worships you, in fact. And the fencing is the very thing for him. It was good of you to think of it.” Her voice tightened. “I’m afraid there are many things I’ve neglected in my brother’s care.”
“Nonsense. Bram is a fine lad and a credit to his name. His mind is sharp and well informed. As a matter of fact, he knows more about those books in my library than I do. He’s made me remember Latin phrases I’d sworn long forgotten.”
“Latin? Hardly the usual education for a highwayman.”
Luc cursed himself for his slip. She left him all at sea, this fiery woman with a girl’s innocence and a warrior’s courage.
Yes, the sooner she left Waldon Hall the better.
He shrugged. “The Latin was a whim of a distant relative.”
Silver stiffened. “More secrets? What a bother we must be to you. Very well, I shall ask Bram to cease plaguing you.”
“He’s not a bother, damn it! Nor are you, so just leave it.”
Silver’s eyes fell to the muscles tensed across the highwayman’s broad chest. As she watched, a single bead of moisture inched down over rippling skin and slid into a swirl of dark hair.
She yearned to touch it. She yearned to taste it. She yearned to be wrapped in those strong arms and feel his heart hammer against hers.
Impossible.
Silver forced her eyes closed, fighting the seductive fantasy.
It could never be. Only a fool could think it possible.
But in that moment Silver saw just how deeply her heart was given, for the image would not leave her.
And the pain of loss was nearly more than she could bear.
Gasping, she spun away. As she moved, her foot caught on the threshold, driving her sideways.
Luc caught her as she fell. “Enough! You’re going upstairs to bed, and there you’re going to stay, do you hear? Right up until the minute you leave. Even if I have to tie you in my bed to keep you there.”
~ ~ ~
All the way up the stairs Luc tried not to think about how light she was, how warm she was, how much he wanted her pressed against him like this forever.
Every step of the way he fought his feelings — and knew that he was failing. His face was unreadable as he set her gently back amid the lavender-scented sheets and lifted her hair from her cheek.
But when he would have pulled away to rise, Silver’s fingers slid about his neck and held him still.
Her face was mere inches from his. Her scent was a sweet torment in his lungs. And her soft, thrusting breasts…
“Don’t, Silver,” he said hoarsely.
“Why, Luc? Let me hear the words.”
“Because … I must go.”
Again he saw the consciousness in her eyes, the warmth of awareness that he had seen too many times before in the last few days. It was that flare of emotion which had kept Luc from her room, that and only that. Blackwood, the highwayman, was experienced enough to know exactly what such a look meant in a woman’s eyes.
Her fingers tightened. “Tell me why.”
He circled her wrists, feeling the fragile bones, the ragged pulse. “Why? Because I’m a criminal and a thief. Because I have no heart left and my word can’t be trusted. Because you shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t paint impossible dreams, Sunbeam. I’m a man with a past more black than you can imagine. I warned you once not to trust me or let me into your heart. I’ll only bring you pain.”
“I’m not so fragile!”
His eyes blazed amber. “Perhaps it’s my own strength I fear for.”
“So you will turn me away, just like that? Without any explanation?”
“I have no choice.”
She stared at him, her eyes fierce. “I warn you, I don’t mean to make it easy for you. I’ll leave you with a thousand images to haunt you. Whenever you smell lavender on a woman’s skin or honeysuckle in a spring wind, you’ll think of me. You’ll remember how close I was, here like this, in your bed.” Silver’s fingers slid to his neck and drew him down slowly.
Closer. Ever closer.
Luc’s blood hammered. “Don’t do this, Silver.”
“Yes. Now, right now. Because above all, you’re going to remember this…”
Her lips softened. She pulled him to her and let her mouth move over his.
She was not experienced. She didn’t know how to hide the quiver in her hands or the tremble in her lips.
But, oh, God, she didn’t need to know. Luc could feel the drumming of her heart, just as wild as his own.
And her heart was a lover’s heart and her hands were a lover’s hands, so experience was unnecessary. She simply let him feel her wanting him. She was warm beneath him, infinitely pliant. The soft little sounds she made challenged him to press closer and taste all that sweet yielding.
“Stop, Sunbeam.” His blood was on fire. Luc knew in a few more moments he wouldn’t have the strength to turn back. “Don’t do this.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her hands sliding down and circling his ribs. Then she moved again, parting cloth and finding his magnificent, thrusting heat. “Now.” Sighing, she traced the hot length of him.
Luc groaned. He stared deep into her eyes, drinking in the sight of her. He wished that he had strength enough to stop her; he wished that he was all the things she thought he was. “You crazy fool.”
“You’re the fool. How could anyone not want this?”
“Why? This is why, Silver,” he whispered fiercely.
And then he drove her back against the pillow, mouth hard to hers while he gave her the wet thrust of his tongue. His hand fell around the curve of her breast. In one impatient movement she was bared to him, her nipple rising taut
to his callused palm.
He taught her need then. With the practiced art of a master he tugged the budded crest and showed her how her blood could burn and her skin could flame with demands unmet.
“Do you feel me now? Do you understand what I’ll do to you?”
His hand jerked away the coverlet and opened over her belly, then inched down to the silken delta at her thighs, the sight of her by candlelight a perfect, erotic male dream. “And here, do you feel me here? Do you want me here, Silver? Are you hot and wet with wanting me?”
She twisted against him, lost in fire, lost in longing.
Lost in love.
“I want you, Luc. Let me feel you. You touched me once before and made my blood sing. Now I would do the same to you,” she whispered.
Her words tore the breath from his lungs. “What does it take to frighten you?”
“The thought of losing you. The thought of never knowing this.” Her eyes sought his, deep pools of longing. “Let me feel you, Luc. Let me … love you. Just once.”
“Don’t call it love, damn it. You don’t even know who I am!”
“Then tell me.” Her eyes were caught somewhere between green and gold, cloudy with passion. “No, show me.”
The husky timbre of her voice cut right through him, shaking every last fiber of his resolve. Her soft fingers, touching his manhood with genuine, artless delight, left him blind with hunger. He would die if he didn’t find his way deep inside her.
But he didn’t.
Because Algiers had taught Lucien Delamere lessons no man should ever have to learn.
So instead of cupping her soft hips and driving into all the sleek, wet heat she offered, he twisted free of her hands and stared at her, his face fire and copper in the candlelight. “Show you? Very well, so I will. Look hard, Miss St. Clair. Look your fill and begin to understand why you shouldn’t have come here — and why you must never come here again.”
He turned about, his arms locked over his chest until the muscles on his back were stretched hard and tight.
And Silver saw in shocking clarity all the pale scars she’d only glimpsed dimly from the window.
Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) Page 24