by Anne Mallory
She poked around a bit more, looked at the shelves, and even opened the liquor cabinet. While she could honestly say that he had an impressive collection of spirits, she couldn’t find much other personal information in the room.
It reminded her of how little she knew about Blackfield. She had heard the rumors, of course. But as a victim of gossip herself, she had paid little attention. However, he definitely fit the picture of the dark, mysterious eccentric he was painted. And the eligible bachelor as well. Patience could grudgingly admit the busybodies hadn’t exaggerated his physical appeal. Nor had his sarcastic nature been terribly exaggerated. Although it was couched in more fashionable terms such as rapier wit, he nevertheless could probably skin a bear with his tongue if he tried.
Patience moved from the room and entered the hall, cupping her hands around her light to keep the shadows close. A low boom rumbled in the distance. The statues and art along the walls regained their menacing cast, and she had to decide consciously to ignore them as she continued. The flickering light gave the shadows movement, and her racing heart increased its pace without her consent. Tamping down on breathlessness turned panic, she decided that searching one more room was plenty of sleuthing for the night. It was late, and she had to rise early to greet her father’s movers. Frankly, she had reached the end of her bravado.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Thankfully her slippers made no sound, and the whisper of fabric could be taken for the occasional castle draft. She ducked into an alcove and blew out her lamp. Darkness engulfed her.
The footsteps clinked down the hall like the rattle of chains, and she felt a pressure against her chest. A low moan escaped from someone, and she stopped breathing altogether.
The footsteps paused for a second, then resumed, drawing ever nearer to her hiding spot. She pressed into the wall, her skirts a barely noticeable murmur upon the floor.
But it was enough. A break in the footsteps alerted her. But before she could run or scream, someone had pinned her to the wall.
Chapter 10
The hard planes of a man’s body pressed into her back.
“What have we here?” a low voice questioned.
She didn’t answer, but as the man’s hands ran down her sides as if to identify her by touch, she squeaked. The hands didn’t still, and she started to fight.
She was quickly turned around, the body now pressed into her front in a lascivious manner that would have made her blush if she weren’t scared out of her wits.
“My dear Miss Harrington. Fancy seeing you out so late in the evening.”
She knew that low, mocking voice. The panic immediately disappeared, and she pushed against Blackfield’s chest.
“Let me go, you cad!”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
She mutinously glared at him through the shadows, trying to project her displeasure. “Let go of me, this is quite unseemly.”
He leaned forward, his lips inches from hers, just as they had been in the library. “Too bad.”
The nature of their pose, in the middle of a hallway no less, renewed her struggles.
He let her struggle, not letting up on the pressure, which, while not harming her was making her increasingly unsettled. And the normally cold and drafty hall seemed to have grown much warmer.
“What do you want?”
She could practically hear his smirk. “A dangerous question, don’t you think, Patience?”
“Don’t call me that,” she groused.
“Oh, but after all we’ve shared, surely you don’t expect me to call you Miss Harrington?”
“Shared? Dinner conversation? Word wars? I hardly think that—”
“—an intimate acquaintance?” He drawled the interruption. “No, but this definitely is.”
And he pressed his lips to hers. Warm and soft and needy, just as they had been in the library. And she found her body had the same traitorous desire to give in. And he was doing that thing with his tongue along her bottom lip. She hadn’t known kissing could make one feel captured and free at the same time. She pulled her head back, but he simply followed, pulling her hips hard against his and bending her ever so slightly back as if to devour her like the vampire she had first thought him.
He took his time exploring her mouth, and she let him, enjoying the sensation and forgetting about the Patience-eating shadows in the hall.
Sucking slowly on her bottom lip he let it go with a pop and looked down at her in the dark. She couldn’t read his expression in the nearly pitch-black hall. And somewhere along the way her eyelids had refused to stay open, so she was looking at him through bare slits.
She felt wanton and wondered what she looked like.
“So, Patience, what are you doing down here at this time of night?”
Her brain wasn’t quite steady yet. “Searching for…” Her brain caught up quickly enough not to complete the statement.
“Searching for what?” he prompted, although there was a hard edge to his tone.
“Searching for you, actually. And then the kitchens. I’ve been up all night working and decided to request a cup of tea.”
“Mmmmm.” It was obvious he didn’t believe her. “And what did you need with me?”
“I was sent to tell you of our plans tomorrow.”
He lifted a brow. “You had to come all the way down here by yourself to tell me your plans?”
“Yes, well, we drew lots, and I ended up with the shortest stick.”
He leaned back against the wall, his features shadowed. “And what are your plans?”
“Men will arrive in the morning and the first shipment will leave with them.” She was a poor liar. It probably showed.
“Couldn’t you have sent a note with a servant?”
“You left dinner, and the servants have all been scuttling around, and we weren’t sure…oh, bloody deal with it. There, message delivered.”
She turned to go, and he shot out of his relaxed pose and blocked her way before she could leave.
She was forced to look up as he loomed over her. Suspicion warred with excitement inside her as he ran a finger down her cheek. “Maybe you just missed me at dinner? Wanted to deliver the message personally?”
“You flatter yourself, Lord Blackfield.”
“Call me Thomas.”
“No.”
Damn but she amused him. “No? Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“But I want you to.”
She gave him a look like one would give a recalcitrant child.
“Please?”
“Fine, Thomas. Carts will leave tomorrow at daybreak, Thomas. Have a good evening, Thomas.”
“Thank you, Patience.”
She pressed her lips together. “Fine, but only in private.”
He could see her underlying excitement and latched on to it. The night before she had kissed him like a woman first experiencing passion and drowning in it. There was an innocence in her reactions that was as exciting as her sensual response.
He was hard just thinking about it.
Furthering his plot, he leaned in just a bit.
He could smell the lightest hint of peaches surrounding her. Fresh and innocent and full of life. He needed to experience again what she tasted like.
“Mmmm…only in private then.”
And with that he gently touched her chin and kissed her. Strawberries and cream with a hint of peach. Delicious.
She responded, just as she had the night before, with curiosity and an innocent passion. Her approach might feel innocent, but she kissed like she wanted to drown in him. Her kisses didn’t imply games. The rest of her might, but she was unfettered in her physical response.
He wanted to know what she tasted like everywhere.
She broke the embrace, her breath coming in gasps. He tipped her chin up again. “Why did you come down here?”
“To find…” She caught herself again, just in time. “To find you and deliver the message.”
Any lingering doubts to the plan were discarded. Twice she had nearly revealed herself in her postkiss daze.
She was remarkably quick to recover though. “Why did you feel the need to ask me again, Lord Blackfield?”
“Thomas,” he corrected, trying to size up her reaction. Intelligence and suspicion shone from her large hazel eyes. “Just making sure that it wasn’t for me,” he said lightly.
“Hmmm…”
“My leaving from dinner and servants scuttling or not, next time you might want to try the bellpull. Or to summon your maid. It gets cold at night.” He rubbed her arms. “And dangerous if you were to…stumble on something.”
She shivered, and he used the motion to rub her arms again. “See, you are already shivering.”
Not from the cold, she thought.
“I’ll escort you to the kitchen to get your tea, then to your room.”
“No, that is quite all right, Lord B—, Thomas. I think I will just go back to my room.”
A boom rumbled in the distance, and Patience felt Blackfield stiffen.
“Nonsense. Let us get you that tea.”
Not waiting for an answer he steered her toward the kitchen, of whose location she made note. A servant quickly made tea while Blackfield leaned against a counter, watching her.
She grabbed the cup, thanked the servant, and made to exit as quickly as dignity allowed. Unfortunately, Blackfield appeared in front of her before she made it into the hall.
“Can’t have the guests losing their way, can I? Perhaps I should assign myself your personal guard. After all, this is the second time this has happened.”
Patience chuckled nervously. “That isn’t necessary, Lord Blackfield.”
“You don’t plan on leaving your room at night then?”
“No, that isn’t what I meant.”
He gave a small smile at her disgruntled look.
“What did you mean then, Miss Harrington?”
“That I do not plan on getting lost again.”
He leaned forward, brushing her arm lightly. “Not all things require planning.”
Patience might be innocent, but she wasn’t stupid. “Exactly. So you need not plan on being my guard.”
He shook his head at her twisted logic but continued to stare into her eyes, as if he could decipher something in their depths.
Feeling warm despite the draft of the kitchen, Patience checked to see what the servant thought of their banter and physical proximity. But there was no trace of the servant. They were all alone.
She again laughed nervously. “Well, I should really be getting to bed now that I have my tea.” She motioned with her cup, placing it between them.
There was a lazy humor in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Excellent idea. I’ll join you.”
“What?” she screeched.
“I’ll join you on your trip to your room. It is on my way.”
“No, really—”
He took hold of her arm and steered her to the door, cutting off the rest of her objection.
His fingers were warm on the thin fabric of her gown, and she could feel the heat on her skin. He grabbed a lit lamp with his free hand, keeping possession of her arm with the other.
They reached the top of the steps and Patience felt it was a sufficient distance. She tugged her arm from his grasp, surprised when he let her. Surprise was replaced with shock a second later as he slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her up against his side.
“You’re cold.”
She sputtered and tugged back, feeling a spark of irritation at the obvious humor in his eyes. Blasted man.
She stepped in front of him and poked him in the chest. “You go to your room, I’ll go to mine.”
“So suspicious, my dear Patience. I believe I am wounded.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m sure.”
“Miss Harrington, I believe we have started off on the wrong foot.”
“And whose fault was that?”
“Far be it from me to suggest it be a lady’s.”
“Excellent. You are giving this a real go.”
“And you are making it so easy, I see.”
She waved a hand at his raised brow. “Sorry. Do go on. I believe you were at the part that goes, ‘My dear Miss Harrington, I can’t believe I was such a brute, can you ever forgive me?’”
“Yes, of course, something like that.”
“Well, in that case, yes,” she agreed magnanimously, a spark in her beautiful eyes.
He felt lightened at her look. Something in her response chipped away at his long-held bitterness.
Yes, this had been the best plan he had ever devised.
Patience examined Blackfield’s compelling features in the low light. There was a teasing cast that had been missing during all of their previous encounters, except possibly the first night.
And he kissed her like she was the only woman alive. Like some tasty treat he had to finish.
She shivered, but not from the cold. He had sparred with her again, but this time there was something else in his gaze. Something that pulled her toward him. A blind woman would feel his magnetism.
She wondered if it was an inbred talent. He didn’t seem to be part of the social ton, and neither had he gone out of his way to talk to his guests. In fact, the opposite had occurred. And despite his at times rude and boorish behavior, there was something about him, something that caused people to vie for his attention even as he cut them to shreds. She had even caught Mrs. Tecking, as restrained as she had been over the past week, casting more than one glance his way.
No, it was not odd that she found him irritating yet immensely attractive. She blamed it on being a normal human, as susceptible as the next person to a siren’s song.
And that last exchange had been almost…friendly.
The physical part of relationships had always intrigued her. Her undeserved reputation as fast had enlightened her to some of the aspects, as people didn’t take care with their verbal taunts. Studying ancient statuary and art hadn’t left her in the dark about the male form or other elements of the dance between men and women.
All in all, her body’s responses were overruling her brain. Patience looked up at Blackfield—Thomas. His gentle taunt about her reason for bearding him herself, that it had been to search for him rather than to deliver her message replayed itself. Perhaps it had been, in part, her reason to search.
Mind, she would still do her best to discover what was going on, but at the same time perhaps she could figure out Thomas, too.
He was fiddling with the cuff of her dress. A burst of heat started in her stomach and uncoiled outward.
Kissing Thomas was quite nice. She was perfectly willing to experience more, while keeping an eye on him at the same time.
Yes, that was a good plan.
“Excellent,” she repeated. Thomas didn’t look concerned by her silence; in fact, he appeared amused.
He held out his arm. “In the newfound spirit of friendship, may I escort you down the hall? Just as far as the first corridor, of course.”
Her lips quirked. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”
She laid her hand lightly on his arm, and they maintained a comfortable silence. When they reached the corridor he lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss onto her knuckles. Breathing a little more heavily, she tried to extract her hand, but he twisted it and placed a kiss, hotter than the last, on her wrist. Liquid heat pooled in the lower part of her body, and her knees threatened to buckle.
His dark eyes were piercing and filled with something she couldn’t name. They pinned her in place.
“Good night, Patience,” he murmured. The husky tone sent pleasant shivers down her spine.
“Good night, my lord.”
He smiled, a slow, sensual smile, and released her hand, his fingers trailing from her wrist, across her palm, and along the underside of her fingertips, his thumb caressing the other s
ide of her hand as his fingers worked their way.
With the last touch of his fingers to hers, her breath returned in a whoosh and she curtsied and walked back to her room. A few steps from her door she turned, not knowing if she expected him still to be standing there or not. He was, his sensual smile in place. Tipping his head in farewell, he disappeared into the dark shadows.
Chapter 11
Tilly’s bustling awakened Patience. Her maid had been busy lately. She wondered where Tilly had been spending her time.
“Good morning, Tilly.”
“Bon jour, ma petite.” Tilly retrieved a lilac morning gown and the corresponding accessories. “Will Mr. Arthur’s men be here this morning?”
“Yes.” Patience stretched and yawned. “Isn’t it just like my father to have the men here early and awaken me at daybreak?”
“Well, it will be good to see them.”
Patience nodded, not awake enough for conversation. She quickly dressed and readied for the day. She could take a nap after the men left if she still needed it.
Tilly hustled her out the door with a cheerful wave and the promise to see her downstairs. If Patience didn’t know better, she would suspect her maid of having an affair with one of the workmen who were coming to collect the first batch of artifacts from the Ashe collection.
Shaking her head, she walked down the stairs and into the dining room. Preoccupied with thoughts of Tilly and plans for the day, she bumped into someone.
Looking up, she saw Thomas’s amused eyes. The man was intriguing when he brooded and devastating when in good humor.
“Good morning, Miss Harrington.” His tongue caressed her last name.
She shivered. She was just glad he hadn’t called her Patience in public.
“Good morning, Lord Blackfield.”
He motioned to the room. “I would hardly be a gentleman if I entered before you.”
She snorted and entered the room. Thomas and she had been the last to arrive.
He followed her across the room. “Miss Harrington, have you tried the scones? They are excellent.”