Phillip’s brows twitched into a slight frown. “Pardon?”
Heath shrugged. “I have no use for it. I have enough carriages of my own, as I’m sure you know. I only utilized it for the purpose of keeping my nightly trips a secret from the servants.”
“And that is no longer an issue?”
Heath studied Phillip, noting his serious tone. “I am sure they are aware of my dealings already,” Heath explained, not looking away from his narrowed eyes. “But if you do not wish to have it, then so be it.”
“It is not that I do not wish to have it,” Phillip said, his voice tight. He leaned back, studying Heath just as openly. “You know very well that I would sell that in a heartbeat. It only sounds to me like you do not want to go on this quest with me.”
Heath huffed a sudden laugh of disbelief. “We are referring to our thefts as quests now?”
“It doesn’t matter what we refer to it as,” Phillip snapped. His eyes narrowed to slits this time. “Does this have something to do with that woman in your home?”
Heath tried not to bristle at the callous way he referred to Meredith. “This has nothing to do with her. By the by, I learned that you visited yesterday and spoke with her. How did that fare?”
“Why do you ask? Are you worried about her?”
“For what reason would I be worried when she is with my close friend?” Heath quipped back without pause.
Phillip stared at him for a few moments, then his face cleared as he nodded. “I did not scare her, if that is what you are asking me. Rather, I would not mind speaking with her right now. How about we all have breakfast together?”
“I believe she’s already eaten,” Heath said simply. He didn’t trust the look in Phillip’s eyes. And he didn’t like the fact that he didn’t trust it. Phillip was his closest friend, his only friend. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know the pain of his past. No one did. But he could always count on Phillip to be there when he needed him.
Perhaps it was it was because he only wanted to have Meredith to himself. Yes, that must explain that need to keep Phillip far away from her.
“Ah, is that so?” Phillip nodded his head, absorbing the information. “Very well, then. I suppose I can always stop by another time.”
Heath rose when Phillip did. There was no longer any wariness on his features, but that only made Heath confused. The last time he’d spoken to him, Phillip had expressed his obvious distrust of Meredith. Had their small conversation changed his view on her already?
“I will be taking my leave then,” Phillip stated, making his way to the door. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I know.” Heath followed him out and they headed to the foyer together, an odd tension brewing between them. Heath realized suddenly that this was the closest they’d ever gotten to a disagreement before, so he thought nothing of it. Friends didn’t always get along after all. He remembered a few times in the past when Meredith had boldly declared she would never speak to him again after he’d said something quite foolish to her, as teenage boys often did.
The memory brought a smile to his face. Phillip caught it and lifted his brow in question, but Heath only shook his head. He was relieved to find Francis already standing in the foyer waiting for them. He was already itching to go in search of Meredith.
“Tell me how it fares,” Heath said to Phillip in farewell. “Treat the boys kindly now.”
“Kindly?” Phillip raked his gaze down the length of Heath, scoffing in disgust. “You are getting soft.”
Heath laughed heartily at that and, in an instant, the tension was gone. Phillip’s lips twitched as he allowed Francis to show him out. He was barely out the door when Heath turned to Francis and asked, “Do you know where Lady Meredith is right now?”
Francis blinked, likely taken aback by his urgent tone. Heath didn’t care to tone it down. “I believe she has headed up to the second floor, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” He mumbled the words as he turned towards the grand staircase behind him, bounding up the steps two at a time. His eagerness was tangible, smoldering in the air around him and bringing a smile to his lips. He was already picturing her in his head, the golden glow of her hair and the soft pools of brown staring up at him. He was imagining her eyes turning dark with intense heat, with need that she didn’t seem to be able to contain. It was a sight he enjoyed very much, because it was something he felt just as strongly.
Heath turned down a hallway, nodding absently at the maids who milled nearby, ones he’d never paid much attention to before. He realized he was already heading towards her bedchamber, not knowing exactly where she was. He saw the door in the distance and picked up his pace.
Without warning, Meredith slid of her bedchamber, closing the door gently behind her. Heath’s steps slowed to a halt. She looked hurried, brushing back the curls that had escaped the hold of her pins. She didn’t notice him standing there, she only rushed down to the opposite end of the hallway as if she was hiding something. Heath frowned. He started after her, his long legs eating up the distance with ease.
She wasn’t moving quickly enough to leave him behind. She clutched a hand to her chest, her steps hurried, her head trained dead ahead of her. Heath’s curiosity rose as he trailed behind.
Soon enough, Meredith came to a stop. She turned into a room Heath had not been to in years. Heath halted, frowning.
His mother had once loved that room and had spent hours in there painting or practicing the harp. She’d been a lover of the arts. Now, the room was unused, untouched. Why is she going in there?
Heath stalked forward, heading inside without hesitation. Meredith still hadn’t noticed him, as if she was too focused on what she was doing to sense anything else around her. She stood near the window, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Heath approached slowly and a large canvas steadily came into view.
What he saw made his heart stop dead in his chest. Not looking away from it, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion, “Meredith, what is this?”
Chapter 23
Meredith gasped and whirled around to see Heath standing behind her. His eyes were focused on the painting, his brows furrowed, confusion in his eyes. Without thinking, Meredith stepped into his line of vision and watched as his eyes snapped up to hers.
That beautiful blue hadn’t grown darker. He wasn’t angry. Not yet.
“What are you doing?” he asked slowly.
Meredith swallowed. She knew it was quite cowardly for her to act this way, but she couldn’t let him see the painting behind her. It would surely upset him, just as it was upsetting her now that she had looked at it through very different eyes.
“It is not finished,” she lied. “I do not want anyone to see it until it is.”
“It looked quite complete to me,” he said. Heath tilted his head to the side. She still couldn’t read him, which wasn’t a good sign. “Would you please step to the side?”
Meredith shook her head stubbornly. “Why did you follow me in here?” she asked him. “I thought you had gone to your study.”
“I would not have followed you if you had not been acting so suspiciously,” he told her in a simple tone. “Now that you are trying to hide this painting from me, do not think I will simply walk away.”
Meredith rolled her eyes without realizing it. “Goodness, I miss the Heath who would simply do as I say without question.”
Heath’s brows lifted at that. She saw a shimmer of mirth in his eyes now, twitching at his lips. She didn’t let herself get comfortable at the sight of it, even though it pleased her so. “I cannot say I have not missed the Meredith who would roll her eyes at me and get annoyed when she didn’t get her way.”
“She hasn’t been very far, I assure you.”
“I see that now. Do you still insist on not stepping aside?”
Meredith knew she was being immature but she’d rather that than have him upset at her for what she’d done. She couldn’t believe she�
��d allowed herself to paint such a thing, to depict him in such a manner. In truth, there was no guarantee that it would upset him, but there was no guarantee that it would not. Meredith knew she was walking on eggshells, knew that she was waiting for all her happiness to come crashing down around her. She didn’t want it to happen sooner rather than later.
Heath took a step toward her. Meredith held her breath. He came close enough to see a bit of the canvas over her shoulder, or at least pick her up and put her to the side. But he didn’t look nor move her. He kept his eyes on her face, his gaze softening. Like butter under heat, she melted and all her sane thoughts went flying out of her head.
He lifted a sole finger and trailed it along her cheek, down her neck. She watched as his eyes dipped to her lips and smoldering need appeared within them. The air was charged with her desire now, overtaking all her intentions before.
“Please?” Heath murmured down to her, lifting another finger to brush a stray curl from her temple.
Meredith fought the waves of longing coming over her to narrow her eyes at him. “You do not play fair, it seems.” Then she released a deep sigh, relenting. “Very well.”
Heath flashed her a victorious grin as she stepped to the side. At the same time, they look at the painting, taking in the gentle sweeps of watercolors. It was a simple painting, bathed in dark colors of blue and red. And smack in the middle, she’d painted Heath, his hands clenched at his sides. She’d painted herself cowering behind him, standing in a spot of light while he braved the darkness on his own, while he towered over a lone, faceless man. Meredith held her breath, looking up at Heath to garner his reaction to the sight but he had no expression. He only leaned closer, peering closely at the detail.
“I painted it in the spur of the moment,” she began to ramble, needing to fill the silence. “I remember I had just woken up from a nightmare and, well, it had you in it. I knew I needed to release all the emotions building inside me and so, in that moment, I’d remembered coming upon this room while I looked around the manor and well…I came here on instinct.”
Heath straightened and looked down at her. Her heart began to race, not knowing how he was reacting. Surely, he was upset. After all, this painting made him seem like nothing more than a hoodlum whose answer to everything was violence. If he learned that she’d started this painting after her trip out of the manor, he might never speak to her again.
“Perhaps I was half-asleep while I did it,” she continued saying, her nervousness palpable. “I was aware of my actions but I cannot fathom why I would paint something like this. I haven’t done watercolors in a while and so perhaps a part of me simply missed it and thought of the first thing that came into my head.”
The moment the words were out her mouth, she cursed herself. That certainly wasn’t the right thing to say to not make him upset with her.
Heavy silence rang in the air. Meredith was tempted to avert her eyes, to turn away from him, but she forced herself not to. So instead, she stared boldly at him as she asked, “Are you angry?”
Heath blinked slowly, tilting his head to the side. “For what reason do I need to be angry?”
Meredith’s brows lifted in surprise. “This painting clearly doesn’t paint you in the best light,” she explained.
“It does not?” Heath sounded thoughtful as he looked back at it. A smile played around his lips. “It seems as if you see me as your protector. Which I cannot say I mind overly much.”
“My protector?” Meredith looked back at the painting and, as if he’d scribbled the words right across the top, it became clear to her. No matter what state of mind she’d been in before, his words rang true. Now that she looked at it, Meredith could see nothing but him. Saving her. Protecting her. Shielding her from harm. Just as he’d done that night.
“Am I wrong?” he asked, his eyes on her.
Slowly, Meredith shook her head. “You aren’t,” she said softly. “Though I must admit I am a bit embarrassed for thinking so negatively before when it has always been this clear.”
“Not to worry, Meredith.” All of a sudden, he was standing next to her, his arms wrapping around her. Meredith’s heart thudded in her chest when his scent enveloped her. “That is what I am here for, is it not? To let you see your own mistakes.”
She giggled, slapping him lightly on his back. Then, relaxing, Meredith wrapped her arms around him, enjoying the tender embrace. It wasn’t without the usual rush of passionate longing that came whenever he touched her, but she was simply content to be held by him.
“I promise,” he said softly, his face buried into her hair, “to remain your protector for as long as I live. I will not allow anything or anyone to harm you again.”
Meredith smiled. She snuggled in closer, enjoying it for a few more seconds before she lifted her head to peer up at him. “And what about me? What should I do when you’re out protecting me?”
Heath grinned. “You need only be here by my side. I do not need anything else.”
Meredith shook her head, earning a twitching brow of confusion from Heath. “I am not satisfied with that. I want to do more. You know very well that I once the sort of girl who could not sit still.”
“That didn’t seem to bother you before.”
“I am a changed lady, Heath. Do you not know?”
Heath laughed, a deep rumble that shook Meredith to her core. “Very well, then. State your demands.”
“I only want to stand in place as your protector too.” Not giving him the chance to process his words, Meredith pulled out of his arms and took both his hands in hers. She tried to convey through her eyes just how serious she was when she said her next words. “I know you carry around a darkness in your heart, Heath. It is why you have turned into the sort of man you are today. I do not wish you change you, nor do I want you to become the boy I once knew. I only want to understand you, to know what made you like this. That way, I am better able to help you and hold you if your pain comes back.”
Heath stared at her for a few moments, clearly taken aback by her statements. She used his shocked silence to steer him toward the small loveseat by one of the windows on the left wall. She kept a hold of his hand as they sank down to sit.
He still didn’t say anything, though the surprise cleared from his face. He settled into the cushions behind him, sighing gently. Meredith waited patiently.
“This had once been my mother’s favorite room in the entire manor,” he said. His voice was devoid of emotion and, for once, it sounded forced. “She would spend hours in here. If she was not playing the harp, she played the pianoforte. And if not that, she was painting. Many times, we would have dinner late because she’d always lose track of time.”
Meredith vaguely remembered the Duchess of Castlemore. She’d been close with Meredith’s mother, just as their husbands had been close. A few years into their friendship, the Duke of Castlemore had passed away but the Heath’s mother had continued to visit time and again. Meredith recalled the elegant beauty of the Duchess, but hadn’t given her much thought ever since the death of her mother.
Her chest began to grow tight, sensing the words that were to come. She didn’t say anything, only clutching his hand within hers. Heath continued, “Even so, she never neglected me. She always paid attention to my stories and as I grew older, she would give me advice. But, as you should be able to remember, I never had the strongest mind when I was younger. I was easily swayed by the actions of others and, when I had turned around ten-and-eight, I grew close to a bad crowd.”
“You mean I was not your only friend? I am offended.”
Heath’s lips twitched, his eyes sparking with life, but it didn’t last long. “Mother would have loved if that were the case. She always liked you and thought you were a decent and beautiful girl. She would have much preferred I only stay friends with you, rather than grow close to a bunch of shady characters who she believed were no good for me. Before I knew it, I found myself in a gang. That was where I met Phillip.”
>
Meredith blinked in shock. She hadn’t considered the thought that he had been a part of that gang from when she’d known him.
“Even though my mother heavily disapproved, I still did as I wished. After all, at that age, I was young and foolish. I simply thought she didn’t understand, that she didn’t know my friends the way I did. I left one night, without her permission, to meet with them. And when I returned…”
Meredith shifted closer to him. She wanted him to know, because her throat had grown too thick for her to speak, that she was here for him. She saw a lump bob in his throat, saw his eyes grow dark as memories clouded them. In an instant, his kind and playful demeanor vanished and the man she’d seen in that abandoned building had returned.
“She was dead.” His voice was sharp, with pain, anger, and hatred. “She was the only family member I had left, the last person I could lean on. And I found her lying in the middle of the foyer with her throat slit.”
Captive to the Kiss of a Wicked Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 18