Biting her lip, Kate studied the faded pages of the county records. She blinked at the tightness behind her straining eyes, the names blurring. Sometime soon, she knew she would have to stop for the day and find a moderately priced bed and breakfast for the night.
Straightening her hunched shoulders, she massaged the bridge of her nose with a chilled thumb and forefinger. Wearily, Kate closed her aching eyes, willing the dull ache to diminish. At that moment, she felt the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rise and knew someone watched her.
She squinted at the brilliant sheen of the heavily waxed floor in front of her. A pair of what once were perfectly polished riding boots were positioned before the desk where she sat. The library lights reflected the remnants of the lustrous sheen, currently marred by chunks of drying mud. Warily, her gaze moved upwards, over well-muscled legs snuggly fitted into fawn-colored breeches before appreciatively settling on ridiculously narrow hips.
Undeniably male, she thought and released a slow breath, an outline clearly announcing the owner's sex. She swallowed and forced her attention up, to the crisp lines of the cotton shirt he wore. The garment hung in graceful folds from powerful shoulders, his lightly bronzed skin visible beneath the material.
“Miss Bennett.”
It was a more than a month since he had left the factory in Phoenix. Kate hadn't forgotten a single plane of Dante's bronzed face or his magnificent eyes, much as she wished she could.
“You weren't due to arrive until next week.”
“I upped my flight by a few days.” She provided guiltily, trying not to stutter.
“Really?” He questioned.
“My brother wanted help in investigating our family tree. He's fascinated with all things English, and gave me a long list of churches and towns to visit.” She watched in awe as a chill swept his burnished skin, the thick layer of fine hair on his forearms standing upright. “I meant to check your offices on Monday.”
“Monday.” He repeated, seeming dazed.
She was incapable of manage a coherent thought as he stretched his hand toward her. He halted midway, never quite touching her, and flexed his fingers. Such large hands, she mused, her heartbeat deafening. He had the fingers of an artist, she thought, entranced by his actions. He had hands that could caress, love….
“Dear God.” The words were heavy, as if he were capable of imagining her thoughts. He touched her cheek, stroking the supple skin with the tenderness of an adoring lover.
Kate released a tightly baited breath, frozen in her seat. A multitude of sensations washed through her, causing her to lower her heavy lashes over dilated eyes. She struggled to inhale, to gather her wits as a strangled groan escaped her.
They both leapt at the sound of a gruffly cleared throat. Dante's hand fell to his side, leaving Kate feeling bereft. The pair turned toward the figure of the elderly librarian, their expressions guilty. The face, lacking emotion when she arrived, was wreathed in smiles.
“I can assume the young lady was expected?” Jamison spoke to the younger man, and an odd twinkle glowed in his owl-like eyes.
“Yes, she was expected.” Dante supplied.
“Ah.” The old man clicked his tongue and tried not to laugh.
“Jamison.” The inscrutable timbre of Dante's voice contained an underlying warning.
“Madam,” The elderly librarian continued in a most apologetic tone, ignoring the other man. He clasped his gnarled hands behind his back and respectfully inclined his head. “I was unaware you were acquainted with young Ravensmoor.”
“Ravensmoor?” Kate asked, confused.
“My family name.” Dante provided quickly.
“The Ravensmoors have been in this shire since the beginning of the fourteen hundreds.” Jamison supplied informatively. “I was employed by the present earl's grandfather. I assumed it my duty to report to the family any….well, strangers in our vicinity.”
Kate breathed a knowing hum at the information.
“When you arrived, being American, I felt it necessary to contact him. I meant it for the best.” He supplied, noting her censure, his hands fluttering in apology.
Kate sighed contritely. “You didn't do any harm.”
“I might have done you a favor, as well. Besides being the major employer in the region, his family has always been our local historians.”
“You're the town historian?” She questioned in amazement, her gaze firmly locked on the man in question.
“None other, Madam.” He admitted with a pulsating nerve evident in his cheek.
“Ah, lad, you're being modest.” The old librarian chastised. He chuckled with a wickedness Kate could only recall from late night movies. “He never had much of a choice in the matter. He is, after all, the Earl of Ravensmoor.”
“Earl?”
The old man laughed. “Earl he is. Never quite certain which number, any more.”
“The last.” The lad appeared to be longing for the polished expanse of the floor to open wide and swallow him. “I, merely, possess a title.”
“What of the homes?” The librarian continued.
Dante rolled his eyes upwards in surrender. “I own a few estates.”
The older man snorted rudely at the patent understatement.
“A few were converted into museums and others into libraries.” Dante continued smoothly, his jaw tightening as brushed aside the man's outburst.
“Oh?” Kate inquired sarcastically, her fingers drumming a nervous tattoo on the desk.
“My family has been in High Chilternden since the fourteen hundreds. Everyone, who has ever resided in the county, is registered in our family records.” He hesitated and exhaled heavily, mentally calculating the information. “In my possession, I have six hundred years of births, christenings, marriages, and deaths. I am at your disposal, if need be.”
Kate seemed cursed with the inability of avoiding him. She intended to find a small apartment, avoiding Burroughs after work hours. Researching family history would extend the torture, forcing her into his company. Her agitation increased as she realized her thoughts reflected on her face.
“American.” The old man muttered beneath his breath, feeling the single word explained everything.
“Which is perfectly acceptable and delightfully refreshing.” Dante dismissed lightly, his accent visibly pronounced.
Kate stared into his eyes, frowning. His gaze hypnotized her as he gathered her hand into the warmth of his, drawing her to her feet. Her head spun, his words barely registering. The warmth of his touch whisked the air from her aching lungs, causing a surge of electrical static to course through her. Her legs were traitorously weak as he performed a formally low bow and brought her chilled hand to his lips.
If the warmth of his touch sent a vibrant shock through her, it was nothing compared to the feel of those generous lips on her skin. A long, shaky sigh seeped from the region of her soul and her head spun drunkenly.
“I suppose I should apologize.”
“My lady,” his earnest tone was courtly as he straightened, not releasing her. “The Americans may not rehearse the simple courtesies, but I don't believe they ever did. I won't permit the oversight to prevent me from paying my respects to a truly beautiful woman. Would you find it in your heart to absolve an interposing old man and an extremely authoritarian manager?”
Kate was speechless. The buzzing in her ears grew louder with each word, overwhelming her.
“The earl is our local historiographer.” The librarian interrupted, worried she hadn't heard him. “His lordship is best suited to help you with your family history, if it should be in this locale.”
“I understand.” Wretchedly, she looked at the looming figure holding her hand. Ravensmoor wasn't anything she pictured a historian resembling, and she shook her head in disbelief. “It just happens your historian is my employer.”
“Thankfully, presentations aren't necessary.” Dante Burroughs, the Earl of Ravensmoor, cleared his throat loudly. A low and ru
eful chuckle escaped him and he shook his head at the day's events.
“Your young lady has failed to be presented, sir.” Jamison pointed out brusquely, the shagginess of his white brows arching upwards.
Ravensmoor sighed in resignation, flashing a warning glance at the older man. “Miss Bennett will assume Barbara's position.”
“Elliot Jamison at your service, Miss Bennett,” the man executed a smart bow. “It's a pleasure to meet Ravensmoor's personal secretary.”
“The pleasure is mine.” She responded mechanically, attempting to understand the unspoken message passing between the pair.
“Don't worry about the books, my dear.” The older man interposed, reaching for his precious books. “My library's open Monday through Saturday, for your convenience.”
“I won't be able to find the time to do much else besides work.” She responded morosely. “I've a lot to learn at the factory.”
“Not so.” Dante interposed smoothly and Kate looked up at him. “You're more than capable of mastering Barbara's position. There will be opportunities to do your research.”
“My work is far more important…”
A wry smirk twisted his mouth. “I'm not a Simon Legree, Miss Bennett, nor do I operate a sweatshop.”
“I know, sir, but I couldn't impose.” She stuttered uncomfortably, his hand tightening about her small fingers. She should have realized he was well read, referencing a despicable character from her country's literature.
“I'm willing to assist you, if you can bear my company on your off hours.” Dante provided easily.
Kate knew she should refuse, for her own safety and sanity, but was unable and pondered his new offer. Before her stood her employer and the local historian, a fact she couldn’t ignore. Albeit a handsome and titled man, he was capable of providing the information Adam sought and an educated view to the new world about her. It was foolhardy to turn her back on his offer.
Kate cast a furtive eye to the half dozen books open on the table. The faded, century old print made her eyes ache. Despite the hours she spent scanning the yellowed pages, there were too many names to research. Marriage, birth, death and wills blurred into one, all lacking the information on the distant relatives as Adam craved. Perhaps he could help.
“Would a cup of tea and a bite to eat aid in your decision?” His voice was surprising soft, lowering a few octaves. She glanced up at him and noticed a light flush brightened his face.
As Dante released her hand, Kate gazed into the blueness of his eyes and a well-known phrase flittered through her mind. The mirrors of his soul appeared slightly lost and ill at ease. Some of the tension seeped from her at his obvious human frailties.
“That sounds wonderful,” She responded, embarrassed as her stomach rumbled in memory of the sole cup of coffee she had for lunch.
“If Jamison wouldn't object to tending the books and, if you wouldn't be put off by dining with a man in his riding attire, I know of a pub in town.” His brows quirked upwards into a devilish arch, and he glanced to the elderly librarian.
“Aye, that'll not be a problem. I'll tend to the books, sir. It's best I return them to where they belong, right proper, and the like.” Jamison rattled on before a quick glower hushed him.
“Madam?”
Unable to meet those sharply probing eyes, Kate grabbed her purse. She cast a thankful look in the librarian's direction as he puttered about with the heavy tomes.
“It has been an absolute pleasure, my dear lady. Take your meal with the earl before you faint.” He responded with a toothy grin. He lowered his voice, providing her with a sly and knowing wink. “Don't fret about him, our Earl Ravensmoor. He's not as he was as a lad, everyone in town will vouch for his character, my dear.”
Kate studied the librarian for a long moment before nodding. For some unexplained reason, she trusted Dante Burroughs. Despite his size and his buccaneer-like appearance, the earl radiated dependability.
He's not as he was as a lad.
“I'll trust you.” She responded impulsively, unaware her boss was eavesdropping.
“My lady?” Dante murmured with a smile, extending his arm. Taken aback by the courteous display, she hesitantly rested her cold fingertips on his warm skin. Immediately, his other hand closed over hers, securing her to his side. He led her through the library doors, fully aware of the older man's resonant chuckle.
Dante paused at the top of the stairs. He inhaled the brisk evening air and surveyed the cobblestone road with a hawk-like absorption. Dusk had settled on the village, the sky tinged with hues of purple and orange. A chill invaded the countryside with the approach of evening and Kate stifled a shudder. Almost immediately, Dante turned toward her.
“You're cold.” He remarked needlessly. “I should have warned you of the change in climate.”
“It feels like snow.” She commented aloud.
“No, Miss Bennett, this is far from snow. This is normal fall weather,” he replied with a hearty laugh. “The temperature is normal for the locals, but unbearable for visitors. Did you remember to bring a coat?”
“I have a jacket in the trunk.” Kate responded, feeling colder by the moment. Dante gave her an odd look, bewilderment pulling his brows together.
“Trunk? I believe I have lost the translation.”
Kate couldn't prevent a bubble of laughter. “You spoke fluent French and Spanish, while you were in Phoenix.” She found it difficult to believe one simple word could be so puzzling.
“I'm fluent in French, German, and Spanish.” He provided easily and without the slightest bit of snobbery.
“I thought you were familiar with the term.”
“I'm well-traveled and versed, madam.” He supplied. “There's local jargon I overlook, especially when it won't be used in day-to-day conversation.”
“I think Adam said the correct term is a boot.” Kate shook her head and sighed heavily.
She headed toward the rented mini, pausing to shuffle through her purse for the keys. Issuing a grunt of satisfaction, she pulled a single key with an identifying plastic clip and inserted it into the lock. Her windbreaker was spread across the top of her battered suitcases and she pulled the thin jacket on, the nylon material as chilled as the weather.
“Better?” He asked, slamming the trunk shut and pocketing the key.
“Wonderfully.” Kate admitted.
For the first time in a long time, it was the truth.
Chapter Five
“Penchant for fish and chips?”
“I thought this meal was only in the movies.” Kate responded frankly, the steaming length of a deep-fried potato poised near her mouth. She nibbled, relishing each delicious bite, before she delved for a crisply fried bit of fish.
“What prompted the diversion from the usual American fare?” Her manager asked, watching her devour the meal. Dante knew many Americans preferred to dine on food they recognized.
“My brother insisted on the taste test.” Kate admitted, sated by the meal and camaraderie developed with her employer.
“Another English fable you pushed to the wayside?”
“Most definitely.” She mused aloud, wiping her fingers on the napkin provided. Appreciatively, she looked around the low timbered interior of the pub, rapidly filling with boisterous patrons for the evening. She committed everything to memory, knowing Adam would be amazed by the locale and architecture. “How many more wonderful things await me?”
“If you choose to remain at Barbara's post, a lifetime's worth.” He chuckled, noting her wide-eyed gaze before shaking his head and savoring a small sip of the malted whiskey. He refused the temptation of a meal, ordering the drink before he eased into the secluded corner booth.
Despite his mud splattered boots and roguish appearance, he appeared at ease. He greeted each pub patron, primarily the elderly, with a slight nod. Readily, he explained the pub was part of the town, long before his family settled in the region.
“When did your flight arrive at the
airport?” He queried as she finished the last crumb on her plate.
“This morning.” She answered, wiping at the corners of her lips.
“Where you rented a car and traveled over two hundred American miles about the countryside?” He shook his head, effectively halting her response. “You should have rested.”
She bristled at the detected admonishment. “I can't sleep on planes. I'm so full of adrenaline that I have to find some way to burn it off.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
“I haven't in years.” She admitted, recalling the last road trip taken with her mother and brother. That final trip had been filled with laughter and the excitement of visiting the California coastline. There hadn't been any after that, her mother succumbing to a fatal illness the following year.
Dante watched the emotions flitting across her face, a combination of joy and sorrow. He shrugged, not wanting her to know how easy he could read her, and took another sip of his drink. Quiet for a moment, he savored the liquid, his eyes dropping to the table.
“Did you enjoy the drive?”
“I've never seen such glorious countryside.” Kate's thoughts warmed, instantly. “The changing leaves, the rolling fields, the adorable little towns.” She paused, feeling more like a giddy teenager on her first field trip. “Everything is so different and green!”
He smiled indulgently. “You should have called. A company car would have provided you with a better opportunity to enjoy the sights.”
She colored and shook her head. “I didn't want to impose.”
“It's not imposing, Madam.” He responded before clearing his throat. “While you are here, I will provide the necessary transportation. In fact, I'll have my man return the rental for you in the morning.”
“Thank you.” She managed, dropping her eyes back to her plate. “Honestly, London scared me to death. There's just so much traffic!”
“I agree, Madam.” He admitted blithely and leaned back into his seat, the half-filled glass cradled in his hand. “I don't care much for London.”
My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga) Page 6