by Glenda Diana
Again she found her gaze moving up to the tapestry. She took in every detail of the white winged wolf, noticing the way the muscles in its back and front legs were well defined. Even from where she sat, the wolf's eyes seemed to glow with some inner fire ... or anger.
Wiping her mouth on the napkin, Arysa pulled her gaze away from the creature. With a sigh, she gathered her dishes and placed them on the cart for Mrs. Reed. What was wrong with her? She didn't have time to sit and ponder questions or to let her imagination get the better of her. She had work to do.
Retracing her steps, she made her way back to the third floor. The dirty buckets of water and cleaning supplies were absent. Apparently, Mrs. Reed had already had Edmond and Reese carry them down for her. She would have to remember to thank the men for their help. Climbing the stairs, she unlocked the door. Going into the first bedroom, she gathered up the curtains, tapestry and bed linens that were to go in the Ladies room.
It took her a second to get the leather latch unfastened and push the door open, as she juggled her heavy burden. The stack of material nearly blocked her view as she made her way forward. With a sigh, she dropped the pile on the bed and then went back down the hall to retrieve the ladder, so that she could hang the curtains around the bed and place the tapestry on the wall. Piece by piece she put the room back in order. Before closing the door, she surveyed the room one last time, making sure that she hadn't missed anything.
Next she gathered the things for Connor's room. Her laughter filled the silence, as she tried to unlatch the door and juggle the items in her arms. It took her a little longer to get the curtains and tapestry hung, for they were much larger than the others had been. The bed linens seemed determined to give her a hard time, but in the end her stubbornness won out. She smoothed her hand over the black velvet covering, making sure there were no wrinkles. Then, sprinkling the spice on the floor, she placed the small rugs down and then closed the door and latched it.
"Finally," she whispered, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow. Setting the spice container to the side, she gathered up the ladder and several other items and carried them down to the bottom of the stairs.
Now all she had to do was lay out the rugs in the hallway and sprinkle a little spice beneath them. By the time she reached the last door, she sighed with relief. Her foremost thought was of bathing and changing into something clean.
As she picked up the container of spice mixture, she noticed the door to Connor's room was open. Tucking the container under her arm, she lifted the latch and reached for the door where it had swung inward.
The container fell to the floor in a loud thud. Arysa's gaze was fixed on the bed. On shaky legs, she cautiously crossed the room. On top of the black velvet bedspread lay the gown of mauve. Slowly, she turned around. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, but to her great relief there was nothing to discover. The room was just as she left it-except for the dress. The door to the connecting room was still closed.
A shiver ran down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Picking up the dress she carried it back to the Lady's room and put it back in the wardrobe closet and closed the door.
Someone else apparently had a key to the third floor ... but who? She found the bottle of spices on the floor and picked it up. Without looking at the open door to Connor's room, she quickly made her way down the hallway. Once the lock turned and she was back down to the second floor, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
Whoever it had a key, they obviously liked to pull pranks. She thought of the other occupants. None of them seemed to be of the prankish nature. So, who could she pin this deed on? Arysa shook her head to dislodge the fear that swirled in the pit of her stomach. She wouldn't let the incident take precedence ... not at the moment anyway.
The sound of the lock turning brought Arysa's gaze to the connecting door. Her room was only lighted by the glow of the hearth. She had been sitting there in her room waiting to see if Zebual would open the door between them. When the door swung open she noticed his room was equally dark.
"Good evening, Arysa."
"Good evening, Zebual," she murmured in the same pleasant tone he used.
"Hiding in the dark?"
"You seemed to prefer it, so I thought I would give it a try."
"Touché, my dear. I see you are in fine form this evening."
Arysa moved into the light, as she studied his dark shape. "What I am, Zebual is quite upset. If you look close enough, I'm sure you'll detect it."
"And what has brought on your ... upset? If you don't mind me asking?"
"You, you bloody damn fool!" she snapped out.
Zebual moved further into the room avoiding the dimly lit area. "Me? What did I do to bring you to such a fine temper?"
"Guess!" Arysa hated the way her words ground out, but she couldn't help it.
"I don't have the faintest idea as to what has upset you, Arysa."
"What about last night? Does that bring back memories?"
Zebual leaned against the bedpost and fought to hold on to some of his dwindling strength. He was sick of being sick and weary of being tired. His light blue eyes moved over her as she drew closer. The light from the hearth outlined the shape of her body, making his heart pound and his mouth water. "Last night?" he murmured.
"Where were you?"
"In my room." It was the most reasonable answer, but obviously not one that pleased her.
"In your room?!" Arysa stopped in front of him, her eyes glaring. "And what of me?!"
Zebual was wise enough not to smile in the face of her anger. "I would assume that you were here in your room, right?"
"Save your arrogance for someone that appreciates it, Mr. Bayne."
"Speaking of arrogance ... "
"We weren't!" Arysa said cutting into his comment. "And for your information, I'm not and you are!"
"If it will ease your upset, Arysa I'll explain. There's no need for you to go into one of your famous show of tantrums."
"I am not famous for my tantrums, sir. In fact, I'm not famous for anything. I am unknown!"
He wanted to touch her so badly, but knew his touch wouldn't be welcome, so he clenched his hands at his side and tried to appear as calm as he possibly could. "You're known to me," he replied softly.
Arysa threw up her hands and moved away from him, before she could do something she would regret. "Go ahead and explain," she muttered.
"I was ill and didn't want to burden you with my care."
She swung around and planted her hands on her hips. "If I'm not mistaken, that was to be one of my new duties. To see to you when you were sick."
"I also needed some time to myself." Zebual gave a slight shrug of his shoulder as if it were of no great importance. He couldn't tell her the real reason ... not yet.
"Leave, Zebual." Arysa went back to the chair she had vacated and slumped down into it.
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me. Leave. Last night you wished to be alone ... tonight I do."
Without a word he left, closing the door between them. He couldn't blame her for her anger. In all truth it was the first time she had showed him a glimpse of her true being and he had enjoyed and loved every second of her temper. He granted her wish for tonight, but tomorrow she would not be rid of him so easily.
Chapter Four
"Tell me that you missed me."
Though the words were soft they seemed to thunder around her. Strong hands held hers pinned above her head. "Tell me that you missed me," the growling voice came yet again, as the warmth of his breath brushed against her cool skin.
"I missed you," she whispered.
"Nay, you think of others."
"Never. I think of you always."
"Show me," he purred out. "Show me that you missed me. Open yourself to me. Let me be one with your heart, your soul, your very being."
"How can I show you when I cannot touch you? You hold me back from that which wo
uld give me the greatest pleasure. Tell me what you want of me and I will gladly do it."
Silence filled the air around them.
"'Tis too soon."
"Why?" she cried out.
He brushed his lips softly against hers and breathed in the air from her lungs. Again, he waited until her next breath issued from between parted lips and drank in the wisp of air. Over and over, he waited like a predator for each breath.
Clasping both of her hands in one of his, he slowly brought his other hand brushing down the side of her face. She turned her head wanting to kiss any part of him that she could, but his hand moved away too quickly. She squeezed her eyes shut against her tears of frustration. It wasn't like she needed them open for she couldn't see him through the darkness that surrounded them. She never saw him ... she only heard and felt him.
"Fly with me. Glide through the stars and the moonbeams with me."
She had no will or desire to deny him. The ache of her heart would be nothing compared to the ache of her soul should she reject his offer. "Yes," she whispered opening herself to his possession.
Heat and cold, weight and lightness, moonlight and sunlight, soaring and falling ... all these sensations invade her at once sweeping her away on a tide that seemed to have no end.
The sound of footsteps awakened her. It took Arysa a few moments to clear her mind of sleep. She lay there listening and then she heard it again. Footsteps and the creaking of the boards above her. Someone was upstairs.
Climbing out of bed, she went to where her key lay on top of the dresser. Picking it up, she turned it over in her hand, as she stared up at the ceiling. Mentally, she went over the rooms trying to figure out what room was directly above her ... The Lady's room. Quietly, she opened her door and looked down the length of the hallway. On tiptoe, she stepped out into the hallway and silently moved toward the stairs.
She had taken no more than a dozen steps when the sound of a door opening brought her to an immediate stop. She turned around slowly and found Zebual standing in the doorway to his room.
"Is there a problem, Arysa?"
Damn, she muttered softly. "I thought I heard someone upstairs."
"Come here. I dislike shouting and I don't wish to wake the rest of the household in order to carry on a conversation with you."
Arysa retraced her steps, passing the door to her room. "I heard someone above stairs."
"I heard nothing."
She had an urge to sigh loudly, but she refrained from doing so. "I'll just go up and take a quick look around and then I will retire for the night."
Zebual's gaze moved over her and he shook his head. "You're hardly dressed to go wandering about. As I said, I heard nothing."
Arysa blushed. "I would feel responsible should someone be up there causing mischief."
"You and I are the only ones with keys, so unless you let someone borrow yours there can be no one up there."
With a nod of her head, she conceded. "Fine. Good night." She wasn't about to stand there all night arguing with him. If he had no concern as to the sounds then why should she?
Zebual waited until she turned around and was heading back to her doorway. "One moment."
"Yes?" Arysa faced him.
"I need your assistance tonight."
"Excuse me?" Arysa knew she sounded like and idiot, but she couldn't help it.
"I need your assistance," he repeated. Turning on heel, Zebual entered his room.
Gritting her teeth, she followed him.
She stopped when she saw Justin standing near the bar. He gave a slight nod of his head in her direction before leaving the room.
"Shut the door, Arysa." Zebual stated, as he unlocked the connecting door between their rooms and opened it.
Arysa shut the door none too gently. She was ready to blast him with her vile mood, but the moment she turned around her mood evaporated at the sight of him. Zebual's skin was paler than usual and he looked as if he were about to pass out. Frantically, she rushed to his side.
"Come sit down." When he just stood there swaying on his feet, she panicked further. Placing her arm around his waist she led him over to the settee.
"Thank you," he murmured, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
She noticed the beads of sweat that covered his forehead. Quickly, she made her way to his bathing room and wet a cloth. By the time she returned to his side, sweat was running down his face. The thought of actually wiping his brow made her stomach quiver. Leaning forward, she gently patted the cloth against his brow, studying his face as she did so. He was a handsome man, though his sickness was taking its toll on him and ravishing his appearance, it couldn't totally distract from his good looks.
"You should be lying down and resting."
Zebual opened his eyes. She was looming over him, the damp cloth brushing against his forehead and down the length of his cheeks. "I was resting ... but I became concerned about you."
Her hand paused, as her gaze met his. "And why would you be concerned over me?"
"Justin and I ... I mean ... well, we heard you moaning and that's when I became concerned. Then there was silence until I heard you open the door and step out into the hallway."
The cloth plopped down onto his face, as she straightened and moved back so quickly that she nearly tripped over the back of her nightgown. Her face felt like it was on fire. He had heard her in the thralls of her dream-world ... no ... they had heard her.
"Damn, are you trying to blind me?" Zebual pulled the cloth from his face.
Without thinking, Arysa sat down on the settee next to him and reached for the cloth dangling in his hand. She buried her face in it, hoping that it would cool her heated cheeks. She had worried that he would come upon her sleeping naked and forgot all about his earlier reference to hearing her.
Zebual watched her for several minutes. "If you're done being mortified, I would like to recall you to your duties. I'm the one that's ill."
Arysa lifted her head, glanced around and then sprang to her feet.
"Don't waste time by apologizing." Zebual's words rang through the room. "I had hoped that you would grow accustomed to me and my presence, but I see that it was a false hope. You are frightened of me."
Arysa tried to hide her red face, as she sank back down on the settee. "You do not frighten me."
"I disagree. I think I frighten you very much ... that is unless you are stirred up in preparation for one of your tantrums."
"Let's not start that again, shall we?"
Zebual grunted. "Are you this nervous when around Justin, Reese or Edmond?"
Arysa refolded the cloth and practically slapped it over his eyes. "I wouldn't know. I don't talk to them unless it is necessary. I hardly talk to Hanah or Tairam. The only one I have long conversations with is Mrs. Reed. Well, occasionally you and I do try to converse, but we don't do very well at it. If my ... moans bother you so much I'll take one of the other rooms at the opposite end of the hall."
"Nay you won't," he practically growled, jerking the cloth from his eyes.
"But if I disturb you, it's the only reasonable thing to do."
"You could move out into the damn stables and you would still disturb me," he muttered, glaring at her. "Here, the cloth is dry."
Snatching the cloth from his hand, she stomped off to the bathing room. By the time she returned Zebual had his feet propped up on the table in front of him and his hands were frantically rubbing at his eyes. "Here, don't do that or you'll make them swell."
Zebual lowered his hands, glancing up briefly before closing his eyes.
Arysa met the red hazy gaze and shook her head. "See, you've already irritated them." Folding the cloth she placed it over his eyes, gently this time. "Rest for a moment and then I'll help you to your room."
"I'm fine here. Why the sudden concern, Arysa?"
She noticed how soft and tired his voice sounded and her heart went out to him. Instead of arguing with him and jumping every time he said something to
her, she needed to remember that he was not well. He needed to be cared for and that's exactly what she was going to do. If he didn't provoke her with his arrogance, she thought, smiling to herself.
Maybe with proper care she could get him well again. She ignored the tiny voice that asked why she should care. It was only reasonable that a person should help another or at least it sounded reasonable to her.
Once again she studied him, wondering what he must have looked like before the sickness had taken him. The lines on his face told her that he was wearier than he was letting on. He was trying to uphold his arrogant attitude as a brave front. Well, he could be as brave as he wanted once she had him on the road to recovery. The biggest dilemma she was facing at the moment was just how she was to get him on that particular road.
"Well? Are you ignoring me or have you finally fainted dead away?"
Arysa laughed and then stopped when he removed the cloth from his eyes and raised his head. She looked away from his gaze. "I think you need someone to show more concern for you. Apparently, the care that Justin has been dealing out hasn't done you much good. In the last month you have grown weaker."
Zebual replaced the cloth and laid his head back again. "I fear I will be growing worse before I ever see better."
"Such hope," she said in a sarcastic tone.
"Such a temper," he countered.
He was teasing, she saw the way the corner of his lips twitch with his silent laughter. "You're the most arrogant man and a true beast when you want to be."
"If only you knew," he muttered more to himself than to her. "You have a way about you that makes me feel like a doddering, decrepit old man. You can help me to my bed now. I believe we can continue this attempt at conversation tomorrow evening." Zebual came to his feet slowly.
Without hesitation, she placed her arm around his waist and helped him toward his room.
"You do realize that if I were to topple over I would likely crush you."
"Yes, but then I don't plan on letting you topple over," she replied softly.
"Very good, Arysa. Perhaps we shall deal well together after all."