by Meara Platt
Her lack of respect was unforgivable and he intended to tell her so, but Anabelle held him back with a pleading wince. “Thank you for the tea and cakes, Dolly. I believe that will be quite enough for now.”
Dolly ignored her. “Ye’ve made a mess of the parlor. I heard ye, missie, tossing them projectiles. Are ye daft?”
“Probably,” she replied with a light, laughing air. “You may clean up when we’ve finished. Please, Dolly,” she added when the stout woman still wouldn’t budge.
“Very well, lass.” She bent down with a grunt and scooped up a few pieces of fruit that had fallen into the walkway. “Yer gettin’ rid o’ me for now, seein’ as how ye have company and all, but ye’ll get an earful from me later. Mark my words.”
In a moment, Dolly marched out. Saron heard her muttering all the way down the hall. He raised one eyebrow in question.
Anabelle shrugged lamely. “We have a tendency to speak plainly in this household.”
More than that, it was obvious that she held no sway over her servants. They dictated the terms to her, a situation he intended to remedy at once. “Are there any other eccentric figures with whom I should become acquainted?”
Apparently, she didn’t see a situation that needed remedying. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Harleigh Hall is brimming with them.”
“You speak as though it were a source of pride.” He hadn’t intended it as a compliment, but the foolish girl took it that way.
“Oh, but it is.” She gave a wistful sigh. “It’s one of the reasons I love Harleigh so much.”
He watched her merriment fade as she contemplated losing Harleigh. It was a bitter pill for her to swallow. He understood that, even as he dismissed her attachment to the place and the disobedient servants in it.
“I’ll never love anything or anyone as much.”
In this, he knew the innocent better than she knew herself. He’d seen the glorious blaze of passion in her eyes and knew she was capable of loving a man deeply. She was the sort of woman who could capture a man’s soul. Could she capture his before the Dragon Lords claimed it?
“Dolly was right. I am a mess,” she said, squirming under the heat of his gaze and fidgeting with her hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll run up and–”
“No, stay,” he said, resisting the inexplicable urge to take her into his arms and feel the warmth of her lips against his mouth. “I have no quarrel with your appearance, and I find I would like some tea. Now that it’s here, will you do the honors and pour?”
“I really ought to make myself presentable.”
“Stay…please.”
She relented with a shake of her head. “I cannot imagine you so civilized as to enjoy a mere cup of tea. Choking down a brandy would be more your style, I think.”
Nevertheless, she walked over to the tray, poured him a cup, then poured one for herself. Motioning to the third cup, she mused out loud. “I wonder what’s become of Lord Chalmers.”
“He went off with your brother.”
“I know, but that was quite some time ago. I didn’t think he’d stay with him. Not while…”
“Not while you’re here on your own to fend off the Dragon of Draloch?”
She stuck her chin into the air again in that gesture of defiance he was growing to expect. “You don’t frighten me.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t like weepy young ladies.”
“I don’t imagine you like anything but destroying people’s lives.”
He growled softly in exasperation. “Anabelle, in time you will learn to trust me.”
She turned away. “Ah, here’s Lord Chalmers.”
Saron watched the portly man puff into the room.
“Sorry I tarried so long, but I took the liberty of summoning Mr. Dullingham to the classroom and ordering him to continue with Robert’s studies. The lad wasn’t happy about it, to say the least. Anabelle, are you aware of how dreadfully he has neglected Robert’s studies, of late? You must do something about the man.”
“I shall be tending to the matter,” Saron said, cutting off Anabelle’s reply. “There shall be many changes made here.”
Anabelle’s tea cup clattered as she set it down, presumably readying herself for another go at him. “Which brings me to the matter of your estate manager,” he hastily continued. “I would like to meet the gentleman as soon as possible.”
Whatever he expected from Anabelle, it was not the delicious smile with which she graced him. It was as though a great weight had suddenly been removed from her slight shoulders. “The estate manager is absolutely vital to the operation of Harleigh. Why, I believe you couldn’t possibly remove the person from Harleigh without jeopardizing the profitability of this estate.”
He eyed her skeptically. “Yes, that is generally true of all good estate managers. By your tone, I assume you’ve been pleased with the man’s performance.”
“Absolutely. Don’t you agree, Lord Chalmers?” She continued before he could respond. “See, Lord Chalmers quite agrees.”
She was up to something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what. Did she fear he would discharge her entire staff? Even the capable ones? He wasn’t so foolish as that. “Anabelle.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
She sounded so demure. He didn’t believe it for a moment. “I shall expect your estate manager in the study, you do have a study in this house?”
“Of course, Your Grace. I shall be delighted to show it to you after tea.”
“Fine.” He squirmed slightly. Why did he feel about to be led into an ambush? “Have your man meet me there at half past four this afternoon.”
“Consider it done,” she responded brightly.
“Do you have nothing else to say to me?”
She gazed at him so innocently. “What more must I say? You have asked to see the estate manager and you shall have your way in this as in all things.”
“Now I am certain you are up to something. I suppose I shall catch on to your game soon enough.”
She smirked behind her teacup. “I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“I’ll have no more of your nonsense, Anabelle.” Lord, her smugness irked him. But he didn’t wish to provoke another confrontation with Chalmers present. He decided to change the subject. “Lord Chalmers has been kind enough to put me up at his residence for the week.”
“How thoughtful of you, Lord Chalmers,” she gushed. “But then you have always been the most thoughtful of neighbors.”
“Thank you, my dear.” He winked at her and she winked back. Saron noticed the exchange and grumbled.
“Did you say something, Your Grace?” She cast him another irritatingly innocent glance.
“I expect you to be packed and ready to return with me to London in one week’s time.” So much for avoiding confrontations. He waited for her cry of outrage, but none came. “Did you hear me, Anabelle?”
“Of course I did, Your Grace. I’m not deaf.” She sounded effervescent.
He scowled. “Stop Your Gracing me. After London, you will return with me to Castle Draloch.”
“Would you care for some cake?”
“I’ll have one,” Lord Chalmers piped in. “You ought to try one of Dolly’s cakes, Your Grace. I vow they are the tastiest in all of England.”
“Thank you, but I’ll decline this time.”
“As you wish. It leaves more for Anabelle and me. Right, my dear?”
“Quite right, my lord.”
“Oh, dear,” Lord Chalmers cried, suddenly jumping to his feet. “I completely forgot! Lord Sissingham is stopping by this afternoon and my wife shall box my ears if I’m not home to greet him. He’s my brother-in-law, you know. A dreadful bore, but one does whatever one can to keep peace in the house. Don’t you worry. I’ll pack him off right after supper. If I may borrow your carriage to return home, I’ll send your man back here as soon as he deposits me at my door.”
“That’s quite all right. I be
lieve I shall dine at Harleigh tonight. Send my coachman around to pick me up at nine.”
“Very good. I’ll be off then. Good day to you, Anabelle. Your Grace.” He hurried out of the room, muttering something to Anabelle about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Once more left alone with Anabelle, Saron turned his gaze on her. He wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Was she plotting a thousand tortures for him? It was more than likely, but in truth he didn’t mind. He found her quite diverting, and reluctantly concluded he had been wrong in believing she was either meek or ordinary. “I’d like to see the rest of the house.”
“Your house,” she corrected, and he could almost hear her heart shredding to ribbons. “The tour will take about an hour, and by then, luncheon will be ready. My brother and Mr. Dullingham usually join me for meals, but I can order it otherwise if you prefer.”
“Not at all. I look forward to meeting Mr. Dullingham.” He walked behind her and set his untouched teacup on the tray.
Obviously overset, she followed his every movement. “You will be kind to him, won’t you?”
Did she worry over everyone in this house? Even those who deserved to be discharged? He shrugged. “I understand he’s a dreadful teacher.”
“No, only of late. But I shall speak to him and let him know in no uncertain terms that his performance must improve or he shall be forced to leave come summer.”
A picture of Anabelle storming into the classroom and threatening the tutor with dismissal came into Saron’s mind. He smiled. “You shall have him quaking in his boots.”
She laughed softly and shook her head. “You’re a most provoking man. But no matter how awful a tutor he is, I cannot find it in my heart to send him out into the cold. And come spring, the weather is often so damp, always raining.”
“We can’t send him out into the rain.” She was everyone’s protector, he marveled. An indulgent little mother who let her charges take full advantage of her good nature.
“You’re mocking me.”
“No, little one.” How could someone with a heart as soft as hers protect him from the Dragon Lords? He dismissed the ridiculous notion. Besides, he always fought his own battles. “I shall take your wishes into consideration, but the matter shall be handled by me, as I see fit. Now, let’s have a tour of the house.”
He offered Anabelle his arm, half expecting her to decline or toss more objects at him. To his surprise, she graciously accepted, putting him in excellent humor. He had not felt so content in years. The victory was most satisfying.
For as long as it would last.
Not long, he feared, for he’d already counted five dragon markings in the house. The dragon crest above the front door was the boldest and most obvious. But the other markings, despite their subtlety, were no less troubling.
Five.
There could be more.
He studied her as she led him through the house, knowing he had an important choice to make. Should he accept her as his dragon mate and bring her into his world of darkness? Or should he set her free and marry her off to another as soon as possible?
He wanted to set her free.
The dragon within him wouldn’t allow it.
*
The hearty aroma of quail basted in an apricot sauce wafted into the winter dining room from the nearby kitchen. It was a relatively small room compared to the others, Anabelle explained to him as they stood at its entryway one hour after having started the tour. However, the fire blazing in the large fireplace easily warmed the inhabitants on cold winter days.
“Our summer dining room opens onto a large terrace overlooking the flower gardens. It’s breathtaking when all the flowers are in bloom come July. We often take our meals on the terrace in the summer, unless we’re entertaining a large number of guests, then we use the terrace for dancing. Beyond the gardens lie our park and stream, and beyond them, the lake. The shaded walk is quite comfortable even on the hottest of days, and our stream is fully stocked with the finest trout and game fish south of Scotland.”
“Hmm,” he said offering no further comment, but he’d been impressed by the small house and her description of the grounds. Her love of the place was evident in her expressive features. She loved Harleigh passionately, and someday, she would love a man, perhaps him, with that same wondrous intensity.
Too bad he could never love as she did. He had seen too much, lost too much, to be capable of returning affection. At best, he could only be indifferent. At worst, well, that was easy. Hate was an emotion he could handle, for he’d been conceived in hate, raised in hate, and had known only hate until he had been rescued from his private hell at the ripe old age of ten by his spirited aunt, Penelope.
“Oh, dear, you don’t care about any of this, and I’m boring you with my descriptions. But you must understand how wonderful this place is and why I must have it back.”
“I’m not bored. I’ve listened to your every word.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “I regard Harleigh as an acquisition. It either runs profitably or it does not. The feminine details are…well…interesting, but not vital to my determination of its value.”
She raised her fawn-like eyes and gazed at him with trepidation. “If Harleigh is of no value to you, please sell it back to me.”
He stared at her for a long while. How had he ever thought her plain? She grew more breathtaking by the moment. Not that she was a beauty in the traditional sense. She clearly was not. There was nothing traditional about Anabelle, for her mouth was a touch too broad, her eyes a bit too deep set, her hair too wild, and her manner unrestrained. Yet amazingly, everything fit. Even more amazingly, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Oh, dear. Your eyes have glazed over. I have bored you. Have I gone so far as to put you into a state of shock?”
He didn’t bother to answer.
“It’s all your fault, you know. You insist on knowing everything about Harleigh, so now you have only yourself to blame for getting me started on my favorite topic of conversation. Shall I repeat my question?”
Though her tone was lighthearted, he knew she was anything but carefree when it came to the estate. “It won’t be necessary. I heard you the first time.”
“Well then? I shall give you anything you ask. I have always said so.”
How desperate was she to regain Harleigh? Desperate enough to give him her heart and body? Lord, what was he thinking? “The price I ask may be too high for you, little one.”
“As my guardian, you will come to learn I am a woman of determination. Name your price.”
As her guardian, honor forbade him from asking the price he desired. “The discussion is premature. I have no present interest in selling Harleigh.”
“Oh, I see.” She sounded so dejected.
“Enough, Anabelle. I have more important matters on my mind.”
“What could be more important than Harleigh?”
“My stomach, for one. I find the scents emanating from the kitchen quite enticing.”
“Forgive me. I hadn’t realized you were hungry. I am remiss in my duties.”
He supposed her training as lady of the manor overruled her desire to stick him over the fire and roast him like a stuffed pig on a spit. Thank heaven for small favors.
She hurriedly rang for Dolly, who responded promptly. Indeed, so promptly she must have been eavesdropping, Saron realized with some annoyance.
Anabelle appeared not to notice, or perhaps she had grown used to her servants spying on her. Without comment, she issued her instructions to Dolly. “Please summon my brother and Mr. Dullingham to the dining room right away.”
“Yes, m’lady,” she replied as though intending to obey Anabelle’s command.
In the next moment, Saron realized she had no intention of doing so. She began to study him with intense interest, completely forgetting her assigned task. “Och! I see ye haven’t let her out o’ your sight long enough to fix herself
. Tsk!” She planted her hefty frame in front of him. “I think the girl ought to be making herself presentable.”
A slow smile crossed his lips. Any more presentable, he thought, and he would have Anabelle for dessert.
“Oooh!” Dolly let out a gasp, and grabbing Anabelle’s arm, dragged her out of the room over her protests.
“I have yet to offer His Grace some refreshment! What’s gotten into you, Dolly?”
“It’s what I fear will be gettin’ into ye, my girl. I’ll be knowin’ that devil’s mind! Come on with ye. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll be coverin’ up that hair. And keepin’ everthin’ else covered up, too.”
“Dolly!”
“Don’t ye Dolly me. Come along this instant.”
Saron watched her scoot Anabelle out of the room. He should take lessons from the old harridan, he decided. She knew how to control Anabelle, though if truth be told, it was more from force than reasoning. He could overpower Anabelle, but that was not the difficulty. Persuading Anabelle to do something she did not wish to do, now therein lay the challenge. More of a challenge than he’d ever expected, for she was willful and quite determined for a gentle creature.
And she wasn’t afraid of him…not yet.
She has yet to learn the nature of the beast.
The ladies now out of sight, he poured himself a glass of wine from an expensive looking bottle standing on the sideboard. There were no servants about to tend to the task, though there ought to have been at least a dozen at his beck and call in a manor of this size. Ringing for them, he realized, would be useless. He doubted any would respond.
An upside-down place, this Harleigh, where the domestics held command and their masters ran amok. If he weren’t careful, he would grow used to this bedlam. Fortunately, he would not remain long enough to become infected with their particular brand of lunacy. One week was all he needed to conduct a thorough evaluation of the holding. One week to decide whether Anabelle would make a suitable mate. Then he would be on his way with his reluctant charges.