Rory moved toward the chair where he would have sat. “‘Then his eyes lifted and he saw me. For the barest heartbeat, the detachment vanished and he looked... surprised. He rose with the kind of gallantry I once took for granted and now sorely miss. And as his gaze held mine I saw such admiration that some of the numbness in which I’ve cloaked myself these past years faded. I felt raw, exposed. Like a person again, rather than a porcelain possession with no purpose save that of being displayed. I cannot recall what he said to me by way of a greeting, but the respect in his voice nearly made me weep.
“‘I could almost hate him for that, for making me feel again. Yet a part of me yearns to see him once more. As painful as it was to be in his presence, for a moment this evening I remembered that I am still a woman, I am still alive, and I am still capable of longing for love.”
Allison let out a sigh. “That’s so sad. It breaks my heart every time.”
Rory looked up, and found Chance’s gaze on her. Emotions shone in his eyes. Admiration. Desire. Her pulse quickened. Was this how Marguerite had felt that night, when her gaze first met that of her future lover?
“Great, Rory,” Adrian complained, breaking the moment. “You’ve got Alli crying like she does at those phone commercials.”
“Oh, hush, Adrian.” Allison sniffed. “You’re a soft touch, too, and you know it. Come on, Rory, let’s go see the rest of the house.”
Pulling her gaze from Chance, Rory followed, but inside she felt shaken. For the first time she understood that desire can be welcomed yet feared for the uncertainty it brings. Especially when the one desired was off limits.
Chapter Eight
Chance watched Aurora’s excitement build with every room and every new discovery. The parlor was a large room on the same side of the house as the dining room, with an alcove formed by the corner tower.
“Wouldn’t this make a great office for checking in guests?” Rory said. “We can have a desk here, in front of the fireplace, and a sitting area there by the windows facing the cove.”
“Wouldn’t you want the office across the hall?” Allison asked.
“Actually”—Rory considered—”I think that would make a better gift shop, what with all the shelves.”
“You think so?” Allison looked thoughtful as she glanced across the hall. “Yes, it would.”
“Hey, wait a second, what about my books?” Adrian protested.
“Sorry, brother, you’ll have to put your books somewhere else.” Allison offered him a sweet smile.
Chance had to smile at how quickly the older sister got caught up in Aurora’s enthusiasm. The only one who hadn’t lost his head was Adrian—until they made their way through the butler’s pantry to the kitchen.
“Wow,” Adrian said, moving into the cavernous room. The red-brick walls, plank floor, and beamed ceiling still held a faint hint of wood smoke and spices. “Now this is what I call a kitchen! You could fix a meal for two hundred in here.”
“On that old stove?” Allison looked with horror at the antiquated appliances.
“Oh, we’ll rip all that out and buy brand-new, commercial-grade equipment.”
“You realize,” Chance said, “you’ll probably have to rewire the kitchen to accommodate modern appliances.”
“Hell,” Adrian said, “I bet we’ll have to rewire the whole damned house.”
“You’re probably right,” Chance agreed. “And new plumbing.”
“It can be done,” Aurora insisted. Her wounded look made him feel like an ogre for pointing out the negative, but if the bank decided to loan them the money for this venture, he didn’t want the St. Claires blindly rushing into anything. Allison wandered into the back hall. “What’s down these stairs?” she called to them.
“The servants’ quarters,” Summer said as they joined Allison in the space behind the main stairs. There was a large food pantry, a laundry room, a door to the outside, and narrow stairs leading to the basement. “Come on, let me show you. I think if you knock out a few walls, you could convert the space into a very nice owner’s apartment. That is, if you plan to live on the premises.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Aurora answered.
“That’s if we decide to do this,” Adrian answered. “And if we can qualify for a loan.”
Chance watched Aurora worry over those two ifs as they descended the stairs.
The basement was mostly aboveground with the house so close to sea level. At first they saw only a long, dark hall with cobwebs covering the walls and the smell of earth hanging in the air. Even Aurora looked hesitant to go all the way down. Chance couldn’t blame her.
“I know it looks unappealing now, but you have to picture the area opened up,” Summer insisted as she moved forward opening doors. Dim light seeped into the hall. “Just look at all the windows.”
Adrian followed the agent, glancing into each room. “You know, it could work,” he said at last.
“You really think so?” Aurora asked, hope rekindling in her eyes.
“We’ll practically have to gut the place”—Adrian nodded thoughtfully—”but yeah, I think it has potential.”
“Are y’all ready to see the upstairs?” Summer asked, and they eagerly left the musty basement and headed back through the kitchen to the central hall.
At the base of the main stairway, Aurora stopped. “Did you feel that?” she asked in a whisper.
“What?” Allison whispered back as everyone stopped.
“The room just got cold,” Rory said and looked down. “Oh, my God, this is where Marguerite died.”
Chance found himself looking down with the others. In unison, they all took a step back so that they stood in a circle staring at the floorboards as if expecting to see a body materialize. When they realized what they’d done, they glanced at each other. He and Summer blushed, but the St. Claires burst out laughing.
“Perhaps we’ll leave that little detail out of our promotional brochure,” Adrian suggested.
“No, people love a good ghost story,” Aurora said as they climbed the stairs.
“Okay, then we’ll paint a white outline in the shape of a body,” he suggested.
“Adrian!” Aurora glanced nervously about, as if looking for the offended spirit. “Have some respect.”
“Oh. Sorry!” Adrian said to the house at large.
The second floor had another large, central hall with several rooms opening off it. It had also suffered the most renovations. There were five bedrooms in all. The bathrooms that had been installed were woefully inadequate and Chance saw little choice but to tear them out and start over. Although, much to Allison’s delight, the largest of the rooms held an odd mix of headboards, chairs, and even an armoire. She found a fainting couch in the sitting room, located in the tower where sunlight spilled through the storm shutters.
“These must have been Marguerite’s rooms,” Allison said, and a dreamy look settled on her face. “Here in the tower is where she’d stare past the cove, waiting for Captain Kingsley to return.”
“So,” Adrian said, joining them. “We have two large suites, two medium-sized bedrooms, and one small room, all with the potential for full baths.” He looked at Aurora. “Will that be enough to make a living?”
“I don’t know.” She looked to Chance.
“We’ll have to run some numbers,” he answered.
“Actually,” Summer smiled, “you could fit more rooms upstairs.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Aurora beamed. “The ballroom.”
They found the stairs to the third floor through a door over the back hall and headed up the dark passage. The steps creaked in protest and a chill snaked down Chance’s spine. There was an eerie feel to the air that could almost make a person believe the place was haunted.
They reached the top and stood in a close group, held together by the darkness.
“Hang on,” Summer said, her voice echoing. “Let me find the light switch.” He heard a click, but no light followed. “Darn, it must ha
ve burned out. I’ll try to open the doors to the balcony.”
As they waited, Chance became aware of Aurora standing beside him. He could smell her faint floral scent, hear the soft rhythm of her breathing. He imagined if he reached sideways, his fingers would brush hers. His skin tingled at the thought.
With a pop and a creak, a set of French doors swung open, and sunlight flooded in.
Aurora gasped in wonder. “Oh, Allison, look.” She moved into the large open room. Paneling with a faux finish of pink marble surrounded acres of parquet wood flooring. White columns guarded alcoves created by the gabled windows. And overhead the ceiling arched and dipped with a series of frescoes. The scenes depicted French aristocrats frolicking in lavish gardens. Ladies in pastel satin dresses danced with their suitors, waving streamers of flowers. Bewigged gentlemen pushed ladies on swings suspended by floral chains. The style of the paintings, and the fashions depicted, would have been a hundred years outdated by the time the house was built, but Chance marveled at their whimsical beauty. Henri LeRoche had spared no expense in his quest to impress others with his wealth.
“It’s just like Marguerite described it,” Allison said, joining Aurora in the middle of the room. “Like the inside of a music box.” With arms spread wide, she turned about. “Can’t you just picture ladies in ball gowns twirling on the arm of gentlemen clad in formal black?”
“What I picture is four good-sized bedrooms,” Adrian said.
“Do we have to divide it up?” Aurora asked, clearly charmed by the ceiling as she turned about.
“What would we do with it if we didn’t?” Adrian asked.
“Rent it for parties,” Allison suggested.
“Actually,” Summer said, “that’s a good idea. It would also make a good meeting room for day conferences.”
“Conferences.” Allison scrunched up her face in distaste. “The room is meant for dancing. For letting some divinely handsome man sweep you around the floor and right off your feet.”
“May I?” Aurora said in a deep voice and bowed to her sister.
“Why, sir, I’d be honored.” Allison batted her eyes playfully. The sight of them waltzing about the room, one petite and dark-haired, the other as tall and golden as a Valkyrie, made Chance smile.
“Rory, that’s not how a man dances,” Adrian complained. “You’re letting Alli lead.”
“I have to let her lead. She’s older than me.” Aurora laughed as they continued to twirl about.
“She might be older but she’s only half your size.” Adrian intercepted them as they passed by. “Here, silly, like this.” He spun Aurora into his arms and whirled through a series of sweeping turns.
“Now isn’t this more fun than dividing it up into smaller rooms?” Aurora said. The two moved with fluid grace, and Chance felt a stab of envy that it wasn’t his hands guiding her through the waltz.
“You’re right.” Adrian agreed. “And with all the other work that needs to be done, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to leave it as is for now.”
“Does that mean you want to do it?” Aurora asked. “You agree the house would make a good bed-and-breakfast?”
“I think it would make a great bed-and-breakfast.” He stopped dancing and turned to Allison. “What about you?”
A slow smile came over Allison’s face. “I agree.”
“Do you mean it?” Aurora looked from one to the other, hope shining in her eyes. “You really want to do it?”
“If we can get the loan,” Adrian said. “I say let’s go for it.”
With a squeal, Aurora leapt against his chest and wrapped her arms about his neck and her legs about his hips. Then, laughing, she bounded to Allison and scooped her sister off the ground in a hug.
“Rory!” Allison squeaked as Aurora twirled her about. “Put me down. We haven’t qualified yet, you know.”
“I know, but it’s going to happen. I can just feel it!” Releasing her sister, she twirled about the room, spinning and spinning with her head thrown back. “We’re going to have the best bed-and-breakfast in all Galveston!”
Summer sent Chance a satisfied look before she addressed the St. Claires. “Is there anything else you’d like to see before we discuss your offer?”
“I’d like to see the kitchen again,” Adrian said.
“And the music room,” Allison added. “Rory?”
“You two go on.” Aurora moved toward the French doors. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
The others headed downstairs, the clatter of their feet and voices fading, while Chance stood absorbing the quiet that followed. A breeze danced in from the open doors, dispelling the mustiness with the scent of sunshine and surf. On the balcony, he saw Aurora arching against the rail with her head back as she breathed the moment in.
Unable to resist, he went to the doors but stopped on the threshold. What a picture she made, a yellow shirt tied at the waist over faded denim cutoffs, her sun-bright hair flying on the breeze, and the azure waters of the cove stretched out before her.
“So, you’re really going to go for it?”
She turned with a laugh. “Did you ever think we wouldn’t?”
“No. I had a feeling you would.”
“Oh, Chance, you can’t imagine how happy I am right now.”
He wished he could. God, he wished he knew how it felt to be that free and impulsive just once, without worrying about the consequences.
“Do you think she’s happy, too?” Aurora asked.
“She?”
“Marguerite? To know her descendants are finally going to win.”
“You’re a long way from pulling it off, you know.”
“Technicalities.” She wrinkled her nose at him, and his body responded instantly. Every time she did that, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her freckles.
She hoisted herself up to sit on the rail. With her feet hooked in the stone supports, she leaned back and threw her arms wide. “Hello, Marguerite! We’re finally home!”
“Aurora! Be careful!” He leapt forward, grabbed her by the waist, and plucked her off the rail.
“Oh, my.” She blinked in surprise as he set her down. Her hands settled on his upper arms as they stood face to face. “You’re stronger than you look.”
He glanced into her admiring eyes, and his brain clicked off. Just like that. Every thought vanished—except the thought of kissing her, of tasting her sweetness and feeling the soft press of her body. He knew there was a reason he shouldn’t, a dozen most likely, but he couldn’t seem to remember a single one.
He lowered his mouth to hers, and tumbled into heaven.
She tasted exactly as he remembered—intoxicating, addictive. His arms went around her, as if he could absorb her vibrancy and spirit. Her head fell back as he kissed her cheek, her ear, down one side of her neck then up the other. When he reached her mouth again, the kiss changed so she was kissing him. With her hands buried in his hair, her lips devoured his and her tongue took free rein. The thrilling curves of her body molded to him and desire sank its sharp claws into his groin. His instant response rose strong and hard against her soft belly. Rather than pull away, she increased the pressure of her hips. His hands slipped downward to cup her bottom and hold her tightly to him.
The rush of pleasure made the ground tip sideways. He staggered back, breaking the kiss. They stood staring at each other, his hands on her hips, hers in his hair, their breathing ragged. When the world settled, his eyes widened with shock.
Hers narrowed with anger. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
“W-what?” he managed. How had he let this happen? Again!
“I can see what you’re thinking.” She stepped back and lowered her voice to mimic his. “‘This shouldn’t have happened. My interest in you is purely platonic. I’m semi-engaged to someone named Paige.’ Well, Oliver Chancellor”—she poked her finger into his chest—”if you don’t want to kiss me, then stop doing it!”
“I’m sorry—” He cringed at the fire that
sparked in her eyes. “I mean, you’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.” His hands shook as he finger-combed his hair. “It was just the moment, or something. You standing there looking so... you know.” He gestured helplessly toward the rail. “It just caught me off guard, is all.”
She studied him while irritation crackled around her. “We seem to have a lot of ‘moments’ together.”
“Yes, I guess we do. But it won’t happen again. I swear.” He hoped. One more kiss like that, and he’d lose all control.
Her anger shifted to worry. “You will still help us, though, won’t you?”
“Of course.” He straightened. “I said I’d help, and I will.”
She studied him a long time. “But... why? Why would you want to help me when there’s nothing in it for you? And you’re not even interested in me in a personal way.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. But Paige is out of college now, and it’s time we started dating.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand, how can you be engaged to someone you aren’t even dating?”
“It’s complicated. As for why I want to help you, I have a lot of reasons. One, it’s in the bank’s best interest to recoup our losses on the LeRoche loan as quickly as possible.”
Her eyes lit with interest. “We should get a really good price then, right?”
“The bank is willing to negotiate a fair price.”
“So what’s your other reason?” she asked.
“Envy, I suppose.”
“Envy?”
“Not everyone is free to do as they please in life.” He shrugged as if settling a weight on his shoulders. “I envy you a bit for your freedom. And your courage. It takes guts to go after something this big. I admire that in you.”
Her expression showed confusion. “You admire me?”
“Yes, of course. A great deal.”
“Oh.” Disbelief joined the confusion. “Well, then,” she said. “What next?”
He relaxed as they moved into the familiar realm of action based on logic. “We get started on the business plan. If I make a list of the documents we’ll need, can one of you do the running around during the day to get them?”
Heart Stealers Page 78