“Dante?”
The sound of his name interrupted his thoughts. He flashed a fatigued smile, meshing his hands together to still the shaking. He could not, nor would he, permit Kate any insight into his thoughts. “Kate?”
“I can't make heads or tails out of this book.” She spat out, snapping her book shut. She pressed her fingers to her eyes and stifled a yawn.
In truth, she was wont to admit, he was driving her insane. She was unable to ignore him. Kate's chest nearly exploded whenever he removed the jacket to his staunch suit during the workday, when the ripple of muscles was evident beneath the silken fabric of his shirt.
She had to stop being the fool, remembering more of the disappointment she felt growing on a daily basis. In the last week, Dante scarcely spoke a word, except to issue the usual requests for paperwork and reports. At the hours spent at Colinwood, his mind was elsewhere during the evening meals, or he was absent. She knew his behavior wasn't normal, having overheard Barbara and his daughter comment on the change.
“You shouldn't be such a defeatist, Kate.” He soothed gruffly, his folded hands cradling the back of his head.
“I'm not.” She fenced. “I can't make sense of these books. I've spent the last few weeks struggling to learn Barbara's position. My weekends have been here, with little input from you.”
“Really?” His brows rose and he leaned back into his seat, silently willing her to continue.
“You ride to work with an ear piece on, listening to notes from the week's meetings, or stuck in a newspaper.”
“Are you requesting my attention?” He inquired with mock innocence.
“I don't need your attention.” She grumbled although she knew she would have savored every moment.
“Trust me, Kate.” His rejoinder was soft, his eyes glittering with unspoken meaning as he lowered his hands. “You wouldn't relish my full and undivided attention.”
“That’s not what I'm saying.” She snarled, confused by the tingling in the lower regions of her body. “I would like to be able to speak to you sometimes.”
“Have I not made you welcome?”
“When I first arrived, you did. I get the idea you're avoiding me, now.” She grumbled, bringing her knees to her chin and wrapping her arms about them. She resembled a pouting child, uncertain of her actual wants and needs. “Am I not performing as expected?”
“Let me assure you,” he stressed with unwaveringly firmness. “You've more than fulfilled your job expectations. I haven't a complaint about your job performance.”
“That’s nice to know.” She grumbled, hugging her legs to her. Kate gave him a curiously mutinous glare before looking out the windows.
“Do you desire a confrontation?” He posed in his most aristocratic of tones, the words deceptively soft.
“I don't know.” She admitted, looking at him, uncertain of her feelings.
“If it's a fight you seek, the attempt won't work, Kate.” He managed in a throaty purr. “I haven't raised my voice or engaged in a good punch-up for more than a decade.”
“I apologize.” She mumbled. “I don't know why I feel the way I do.”
“Annoyance?” He provided. “Have we spent far too many hours bent over ancient books or confined to an office space, instead of enjoying the countryside?”
“Possibly.” She admitted ruefully, shrugging at the remark.
He cleared his throat loudly. Dante rotated his chair about and stared at the brightly colored fall vista outsides. “I was unaware I've been such a barbarian.”
“I didn't call you a barbarian.”
“Boor?”
“Dante!” She protested hotly.
“You need not utter the actual word, Kate.” He admitted with a grim twist of his lips. “I know when I've been an ass.”
“Dante, stop putting words into my mouth!”
“You should have brought my actions to my attention, earlier.” He mused aloud, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to her. “I may be a Ravensmoor, but I'm capable of issuing an apology as well as the next man, if you should choose to accept it.”
Kate flushed becomingly, her chin resting on her bent knees, her gaze lowered. She didn't understand what possessed her to confront him. He was her employer; she was his houseguest, even though she couldn't deny the attraction she felt. It took supreme control not to stare at him like a lovesick teenager. She steeled herself against her feelings, unaccustomed to the allurement she felt.
“I wasn't instigating a fight.”
He issued a short bark of laughter.
“I believe we're both inexperienced with the newness of this situation. I handle matters my own way, answering solely to myself. Barbara has never sought my blessing on any topic. Anne leaves me to my own devices. Therefore, I have to be a derelict host and employer.”
“No!” She countered defensively. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Genuinely?” He turned toward her, the familiar quirking of his brow echoing the question.
Kate groaned in despair.
“Here, I believed you enjoyed my company and the research.” He mused aloud. “Instead, I see an exhausted secretary who has grown tired of ancient print and faded pages.”
She pulled a face and nodded. “You look tired, too. Are the books irritating?”
“They can be bothersome.” He rose from his seat and stretched his arms high above his head, displaying muscles that undulated gracefully beneath the material of his pullover. Hastily, Kate dropped her eyes to her lap.
“Do you ride?”
“What?”
“Horses,” he smiled at her dazed look. “Do you ride horses?”
“No. I don't have any idea how to ride.” The images of the dream flashed through her thoughts. The open fields, the smell of horseflesh, fresh clover and the facsimile of Dante's dark image danced temptingly before her.
“Would you trust me?”
“Yes.” She replied, impatiently moving the ledger to her side. I would trust you with my life. The thought leapt suddenly into her mind, startling her. “Have you the patience?”
“More than most men.”
“I'm a difficult learner.”
“I'm not a recreant.” He responded with all the staunchness reflected in the numerous portraits lining the halls, a slow grin curving his sensuous lips.
“A what?”
“An abject coward,” he supplied simply. “Are you?”
“I'm not sure.” She mused aloud, the tip of her forefinger tapping the corner of her mouth. “I traveled to England at the whim of my manager. I assumed an important position at his firm, suffering his mood swings and the stigma of being the only American in the facility.”
She paused and imitated his actions by raising a brow.
“Until my position is secure, I reside in a magnificent manor house full of skittish servants. Who, I might say, presently shatter china less frequently. The house is owned by the giant, who summons me to his office and study with a voice that makes most people shudder.” She paused and her eyes twinkled. “Tell me, should I fear an animal that could break my neck?”
“The horse or myself?” He taunted, folding his arms across his chest.
She looked him, taking her slow and deliberate fill. “I would have to answer the horse.”
“Not myself?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don't believe you could.”
He laughed aloud, throwing his head back, the sound filling the room.
“You've discovered the true secret of the Ravensmoor men, my dear.” He retorted, his eyes flashing brilliantly with humor.
“Excuse me?”
“Ravensmoors have depended on their size to strike fear into the hearts of their adversaries. Action is seldom necessary.”
“Are your competitors aware of this fact?”
“Are you suggesting blackmail?” He inquired to her mock threat, smiling as she shrugged. “To guarantee your silence, my lady, you will have to escape with me. Trust me,
you'll enjoy being daring.”
“Daring,” she discounted the idea. “Do you ride much?”
“Twice a day.”
“Daybreak,” she furnished before she could stop. Kate watched him return to the stables as the first fingers of dawn graced the well-tended landscape surrounding the manor house. Many a morning, she stood at the tall windows of her bedchamber, watching him ride in from the fields.
“Dusk as well,” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It's a fabulous mode to alleviate stress.”
“Have I kept you from your rides?”
“At my choice, Kate,” he came around the desk and stretched out his hand in silent appeal. “The only way to rectify the oversight is to teach you.”
Kate rewarded him with a halfhearted smile. She slipped her hand into his, her small fingers disappearing into the encompassing warmth of his grasp.
Chapter Nine
Two hours later, with dusk rapidly approaching, a pair of riders ambled into the courtyard. Kate grimaced, wishing she wouldn't have allowed Dante to coerce her into riding. Granted, the mount selected was docile and sweet natured. After a few instructions, Dante led her into a canter about the perimeter of the manor and into an adjoining field.
“Are you ready to call it a day, Kate?”
She glanced at him, exhausted. His mount moved at a slow lope beside her, and she shook herself. Dante was the very image of the man from her dreams. He was confident, self-assured, and perfectly at ease astride on the immense black stallion.
“You wouldn't believe how much!” She managed a wry grimace he couldn't fail to notice. He dismounted easily and handed his reins to the waiting groom. In a moment, he was next to her.
“Ache?” He mouthed voicelessly. She looked down at him and was, suddenly, adrift.
The cool, faintly tasting of the sea, ruffled his hair. Before she could control herself, she smoothed an errant wave into place. Baby fine, despite the thickness, she mused. The inky locks curled about her fingers, each strand reaching, clutching at her.
“Well?”
“Hmm?”
“Do I pass muster?”
“I seem to be constantly apologizing.” She muttered aloud, her hand dropping to her lap. Blinded by his magnificent smile, her heart fluttered madly.
“Think nothing of it.” He brushed off the words, as if her actions were commonplace. She would never know his breath strangled within his throat by her touch. “I feel I may have overtaxed you, Kate.”
“Not at all!” She began to protest, only to be halted by his raised hand.
“Once more, are you sore?” He repeated with feigned lightness, his hand resting on her thigh. Kate's eyes fell to the long fingers that burnt through the thin material of her worn jeans.
“Yes.” She responded. Her hypnotized gaze lingered on the shape of his large hand. He controlled his mount with a forcefulness that left little doubt of the strength lurking behind the graceful fingers.
“Wait until tomorrow, Madam.” His voice took on his usual husky timbre. “You'll feel worse.”
“Even worse than now?” Her face was woefully shadowed. “Damn.”
He smiled at her curse, the creases about his eyes deepening and he shook his head. His hands slid beneath her jacket and lingered on her waist, before lifting her from the saddle and lowering her to the ground.
Kate exhaled a shuddering sigh at the contact. The warmth caused an unexplained jolt of static electricity to shoot through her, robbing her of all thought.
***
“Kiss her!” Lily ordered, watching the scene unfold from the upstairs window of the manor house, the warmth of her breath fogging the cool glass. “Kiss her!”
Maevis shook her head in disapproval, standing behind the young girl. She wiped her thick spectacles on her spotless apron before perching the lenses on the edge of her nose. She squinted and shook her head again, gazing at the pair in the distance.
“Aren't you supposed to be in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for dinner?” Maevis challenged sharply, her eyes misty as she looked away.
“I will, Maevis.” Lily rejoined crisply, grunting in disgust. “Why doesn't he just kiss her?”
Maevis clicked her tongue, not answering. She turned to leave the room, nearly running into Mrs. O'Toole's solid form. The housekeeper was a woman of indeterminable years who resembled a retired pugilist more than a member of the fair sex. Her features, wrinkled by numerous folds, were expressionless as she peered beyond Maevis.
“He's a gentleman.” She croaked in her deep voice, causing Lily to reward her with a Thank-God-Someone-Was-Listening smile.
“He's got her all rattled and just begging to be kissed.” Lily supplied smugly. “I've kept an eye on the little lady. She may not know it, but she wants him to kiss her.”
“She's a sensible lass, she's just fighting the undeniable.” Maevis declared gruffly, refusing to look beyond the window. “Ravensmoor's her employer, that's a mark against him.”
“She's miserable.” Lily commented.
“His lordship's miserable but he isn't a besotted teen with his heart all aflutter.” Maevis snapped in defense, placing her plump hands on her hips. “He's a proper English gent, he is.”
“Proper English gent, my arse,” Lily countered mutinously. “I've seen the way he watches her. He'll take to courting her, mark my word.”
“Feasibly,” O'Toole grumbled her response, her jowls quivering with the word.
A secretive smile remained on Lily's lips. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear and turned to stare wistfully out of the window. Disappointment clouded her features and she uttered a pitiful groan.
“He's bloody done and let her go. Blast it all!” She stomped her foot in annoyance. “He's done ridden off!”
O'Toole smiled smugly. “I told you he was a perfect gent.”
“If he would just give her a really good-as-you-got kiss, she'd be in the palm of his hand.” Lily remarked with a disappointed grumble.
“Girl!” O'Toole muttered warningly.
“You know he wants her, Maevis.” Lily responded, her expression whimsical. “He's the old earl reincarnate, and she's the lady.”
“You're spouting nonsense.” Maevis scoffed irritably “We all know the old earl was half demented with grief and pain for his lost love. Single handedly, he destroyed the life of every earl since the promise.”
“They've all been contently wed, save our earl.” O'Toole interposed tightly, recalling the flamboyant woman who attempted to ruin all at Colinwood in her short reign.
“He's the image of the old earl, as she's the lady.” Lily repeated. “She did come back, as she promised.”
“Poppycock!”
“No? Who dropped the Rosenthal?” O'Toole queried with mock softness, smirking as Maevis blushed.
“Five pounds says she's his wife by next fall.” Lily quipped, drawing their attention. Her chin shot up at their outraged gasps but she refused to back down.
Maevis grunted disapprovingly.
“I'll see your five but give it less time. She'll be the new lady of the manor by summer.” O'Toole countered, turning on her heel.
“Fifteen quid but by the first of the spring,” a distinctively male voice interrupted, causing three pairs of startled eyes to jerk about wildly. Williams, his iron gray hair in sharp relief against his black suit, filled the doorway. He was a commanding soul that, with one glance, could cut an errant servant to the quick. They knew he didn't tolerate gossip and could suggest their dismissal or immediate reprimand.
“Beggin' your pardon?” Maevis counted.
“Fifteen pounds by spring,” He executed a quick turn on his heel, disappearing as silently as he entered the room. Madly, Maevis fanned herself with the edge of her apron, collapsing into an available chair.
“Imagine Williams, of all people!” Lily gaped, not looking up from the stable yard or the lone female standing below.
O'Toole shook her head in disbelief, astounded. Mae
vis glanced from one to the other before slowly rising her feet. “I place my fifteen with Williams.”
Chapter Ten
Dante's sightless gaze remained fixed on the glowing embers of the fire, lit to ward off the evening chill. His thoughts were brooding and he relished the comforting dimness of the room. His large form nearly filled the leather divan Kate occupied whenever she ventured into his private sanctuary.
He smiled at the mental image flitting through his mind, stretching his legs before he took a long drink from the snifter he held. He rolled the amber fluid over his tongue before swallowing the fiery liquid that sent a burning trail through his system. He grunted aloud and flexed his free hand, the long fingers splayed wide before curling into a tight fist.
It was going to take a large amount of French brandy to numb his restlessness.
A single lamp was lit on his desk and he attempted to study the numerous folders spread across the sofa, the delivery problems at the Budapest plant commanding his attention. It was a comparatively new facility but he recognized more than a few glitches lurked in the manufacturing system. Many companies didn't run with the skillfulness in which he subjected his daily life. He wanted the tallies and production numbers as of yesterday, the deliveries a week ahead of schedule, and the wire harnesses error free.
Dante placed the empty glass aside and glared at the flickering flames, the red glow leaping in wild and demonic relief across his face. Kate and Anne had taken the brunt of his inattention, again. The weekends were pushed aside for long hours at the plant.
Dante's hands balled into tight fists and his chin sunk into his chest as he shut his eyes. He was exhausted, his head pounding with a solid litany of numbers, deliveries, and deadlines. A few more weeks, he mused as the handful of the papers fell to the floor, and the winter holidays would be on them. Two and a half weeks until the plants worldwide would close for the holidays. He had eighteen more days until he could devote all the time in the world to more leisurely pursuits, such as gaining the affections of a certain young woman.
My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga) Page 11