Arcana (29 page)

He arches an eyebrow. “And the cross look you’re wearing is because . . . ?”

I sigh and smile despite my mood. He reminds me too much of Robert. “Family squabbles. Failed matchmaking efforts.” I wave my hand about flippantly. “You know, debutante problems.”

“Ah. Well, perhaps a dance would cheer you up? I’m not my brother, but I’m sure I can manage to entertain you for a few minutes.” He offers me his arm, and I take it.

“I think a dance would be just the thing,” I say.

“Excellent.”

He leads me onto the dance floor, his movements sure and confident. With each twirl, my body relaxes more, until I’m able to genuinely smile again.

“You were right,” I say to James. “I feel much improved.”

“I’m delighted I could be of assistance. Though, of course, it behooves me to be in your good graces.”

“Whatever could you mean by that?”

His expression turns sly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much my brother cares for you, Miss Sinclair. His secret meeting with Tavi aside, there have been other signs. He has even made mention of you in his weekly letter to me. ‘I’ve met an intriguing woman who is frustratingly headstrong,’” he says in a deep voice that I suppose is meant to be an imitation of Lord Thornewood’s. “‘Her beauty is second only to her biting wit.’”

I’m blushing furiously. “I’m not sure I believe you, sir.”

“I wouldn’t lie about matters of the heart. Especially my brother’s.”

I repeat the lines from Lord Thornewood’s letter to James over and over in my mind. It does sound like him, and I cannot deny the way my heart has swelled at the words. Another lady, perhaps, would not be so delighted with his commentary, but I love he sees me as headstrong. And even I cannot deny how deliciously thrilling it is to be called beautiful.

“I see I’ve given you plenty to think about,” James says at the end of the dance. He bows low before me. “Thank you for the dance.”

“No, it is I who should thank you.” I smile and resist the urge to hug him as I would my brother.

James pulls out a gold pocket watch and checks the time. “Time for my announcement. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Sinclair.”

He grins and strides away toward the orchestra. He holds his hand in the air until everyone quiets and gives him their attention. What could he be up to? I glance around for Lord Thornewood and find him with a glass of wine in his hand next to Lucy. He shakes his head in a resigned sort of way.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” James says, “if I could have your attention for just a few moments. I wanted to take this chance to thank you for coming this weekend. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ball. I know I have.” His eyes seek out Penelope’s and I raise my eyebrows in surprise at her shy smile. “Tomorrow we shall continue the fun with something rather unusual: a scavenger hunt.”

My brows furrow, and I see several people glancing around at each other with curious expressions.

“It’s delightfully fun, and very
en vogue
in Paris,” he says and many nod their heads, tittering excitedly. Any mention of a Paris fad will garner a following—no matter if it’s true. From the way James is grinning mischievously, I imagine he is fabricating most of this. “The rules are simple. Everyone will be given a list of things to find on the grounds of the estate, and you will each have a partner. The first team who finds everything on the list will be awarded the grand prize. I’ll clarify everything tomorrow. For now, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Scattered laughter and applause rings out over the ballroom, and I watch as James joins Penelope with a wide smile.

Perhaps I am not the only one who finds the Thornewood men irresistible.

It’s well after midnight when I make my way to the library. I took Devi into my confidence and asked her to inform me when the other guests went to bed. I told her a half-truth: I had difficulty sleeping and liked to read late at night. I also asked her to draw me a bath, since I feel I will need something to help me sleep after spending so stimulating an evening with Lord Thornewood. She didn’t question me, but she did give me a knowing look. I chose to ignore it.

The halls are dimly lit by wall sconces, and the windows admit clear moonlight. I keep my footfalls soft and hold the hem of my nightgown so I won’t trip. I couldn’t dissuade Devi from helping me undress and prepare for bed, so my hair is in soft waves down my back and I’m probably the most improperly dressed I’ve ever been.
Good thing I’m used to such impropriety
, I think to myself with a grin.

I pull my wool shawl tighter around me when I reach the door to the library, and my brazen mood dims. What if he becomes as disappointed as my father in my state of dress? I pause with my hand on the doorknob. Dare I enter? Suddenly my mouth has gone dry. I am not completely ignorant of what is expected from a midnight rendezvous, but neither am I wholly prepared for the consequences.

With a deep breath, I open the door. A cheerful fire greets me, but it’s the heat from Lord Thornewood’s eyes that makes me feel as if I’ve stood too close to the flames. He stands with one arm resting on the mantle, the other cradling a snifter of brandy. I stare at the amber liquid swirling in the crystal.

Our eyes meet, and the evident desire in his causes a surge of heat in my body. “Come by the fire,” he says after a moment. He puts his glass down with a clink. “You must be cold.”

I move closer until I am facing the fireplace. The warmth from the flames is delightful but in no way calms my galloping heart. I give him a nervous half-smile. “Is that a comment on my manner of dress?” My eyes flit to his as I hold my hands out toward the fire.

The intensity is still there, but banked. “If it was, it certainly wouldn’t be to complain,” he says. He takes a step forward and runs his fingertips through my hair. “So beautiful.”

The shaky feeling in my knees and stomach grows. The smell of fire and cedar wraps itself around me as he presses his lips to mine. Gently, while still holding on to the ends of my hair.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs. “I swore to myself I would only speak with you, but I didn’t prepare myself for how splendidly underdressed you’d be.”

I blush, feeling desirable yet self-conscious at the same time. Does this mean I’m not here to be kissed senseless? Threads of disappointment weave themselves around my heart. “What did you wish to speak to me about?” I ask, my voice quiet.

“I wasn’t able to make myself clear during the ball this evening—not with so many prying eyes and ears.” He takes both my cold hands in his warm ones. “Katherine, I have known for some time now I am desperately in love with you.” My mouth goes dry as a thrill races up my spine. “Though I cannot say it was at first sight, it was certainly soon thereafter. In fact, I believe I first felt my feelings toward marriage change when you asked me in the park if perhaps you should dumb down your conversation.” He laughs. “Not only was it the most outrageous thing any lady has ever said to me, but I knew then I didn’t want a wife who only talked of frivolous things.”

“My lord, for once, I am quite at a loss of words.”

“My intentions are to declare myself to you and ask for your permission to speak with your father.”

I stand rooted in place. My heartbeat thrums loudly in my ears. So many emotions crash over one another until my mind is a tumult. Shock. Joy. Anxiety. Lord Thornewood loves me. He loves me, and he wants to ask my father’s permission to marry me. But I realize I’ve never asked myself: do I love him? I think of all the moments spent with him and realize, like him, my heart changed a long time ago. A smile blooms briefly across my face, but it falters at the last moment when I remember.

He has no idea who I really am. I have never told anyone else, save one little boy. Will Lord Thornewood—for even with his declaration I still cannot think of him as simply Colin—react in the same way as Henry? Unbidden, my memories drag me back to that day. I can still see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of Henry’s nose, the warm brown of his eyes, and then, the way his features twisted with disgust. There is nothing quite so painful as fear on a child’s face, especially when I am the source of it. I cannot bear if Lord Thornewood looks at me in the same way. I cannot.

I blink rapidly to prevent the tears from falling. Lord Thornewood reaches out and cups my cheek. “Have I shocked you?” There is concern in his eyes.

“A little,” I admit. I want to tell him; I do. But I cannot make my lips form the words. What if he pushes me away as Henry did? Worse, what if he never speaks to me again? Or betrays my confidence? Instead, I say what I know he wants to hear. “But only because I have hoped to hear you say it for so long.”

He smiles as if relieved. “And . . . you return the sentiment?”

I let out a breathy laugh. In this, I need not lie. “With all my heart.”

“You are not disappointed I did not formally propose? I have always respected your father, and I would like to speak to him before I go down on one knee before you.”

“I understand perfectly, and I appreciate it more than you know.”

“Then allow me to give you a small token in lieu of your engagement ring,” he says, reaching for a black velvet box on the table beside us. He opens it to reveal a necklace nestled inside, with a cross of sapphires and diamonds.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, my breath catching in my throat. I think of James’s cryptic comment about jewelry and wonder if he knew the truth all along.

He smiles a little sadly as he removes it from the box. “It was my mother’s. She would have wanted you to have it. A small bauble for a future countess.” His fingers send tingles of excitement racing over my skin as he brushes my hair to the side and fastens the delicate clasp.

I touch the gem-encrusted cross where it lies over my breasts.

“I have one other gift for you, but this one is of a more . . . practical nature.” He retrieves a long slim box and hands it to me.

Inside is an ornate dagger. The blade is sharp, the metal glinting in the light. A single sapphire is set in the hilt amidst elegant filigree. I pick it up, feeling the weight in my hands. It is light enough for me to handle easily, but not so light it wouldn’t be a dangerous weapon.

“After that horrible night, I wanted you to have something more formidable than a letter opener for your protection.”

I shoot him a small smile. “You knew about that?”

“It was terribly clever of you.” He frowns. “But it only shows how you must have already had reason to fear him.”

I glance down at the shiny dagger. “He was . . . inappropriate with me when we went to visit his estate.” When his face darkens, I hasten to add, “Not in the same way as that night, but enough to make me question his character.”

He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth as though about to say something of importance, but then seems to think better of it. “I encourage you to question his character. Lord Blackburn is . . . a man who cannot be trusted,” he says finally. “Promise me you’ll carry this with you anytime I’m not with you.”

“I promise.” When his mood continues to stay serious, I smile and nudge his arm. “Thank you for such a unique gift. I do believe I’m the first who has been given both a cross and a dagger at the same time—aside from a vampire hunter.”

He smiles back and pulls me into his arms, so close I can feel his heartbeat beneath his thin, linen shirt. “You are very welcome. I know I promised to keep my hands to myself tonight, but I cannot resist a few moments of celebration with my soon-to-be betrothed.”

Desperate to escape my memories and the whisper of worry inside me, I kiss him back fervently. He shoves both hands into my hair as we press even closer to each other. Gradually, we move toward the fainting couch until the backs of my knees bump into the velvet fabric. I sit, and he follows me down, supporting the majority of his weight on one arm. I stare at his arm—the fine smattering of dark hair, the strong muscles and sinews.

He trails burning kisses down my throat and atop my collarbone. The muscles on his back jerk as I run my fingertips over them. He is all hard planes and firm, unyielding flesh. I know he will pull back soon, so I cling to him. I wish he could read my mind. I wish he could tell me everything will be alright and he will love me still.

When his hands reach the curve of my breasts, a soft moan escapes from my lips, begging him not to stop. His tongue continues the teasing assault on my mouth as he frees my breasts from the bodice of my gown.

He lowers his head to them, tongue swirling around each nipple, and I nearly cry out. His fingers replace his tongue as his mouth takes mine once again. His kisses are deep, almost desperate in their intensity. I plunge my fingers into his thick hair, my bare breasts flush against his chest. I want him to know I desire this every bit as much as he does. If this makes me wanton, I cannot bring myself to care.

When I tentatively graze my teeth over his bottom lip, he groans and murmurs, “The death of me.”

Our lips meet again, as his hips press against mine. The thin fabric of my nightgown allows me to feel everything, and I suck in a breath in wonder. Our bodies fit perfectly together, despite our height difference, and tears sting my eyes. If only this were proof we are meant to be.

I’m a coward. A terrible coward for not telling him the truth, but in this moment, when he is kissing me as if I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, I cannot bear to do anything that may jeopardize this one instant of perfect happiness.

With hooded eyes, and one last kiss, he draws away. “Katherine,” he says, his voice gruff, “I lose all my good sense when I’m around you.” In one smooth movement, he stands and tugs me to my feet.

I turn my back to him and readjust my clothing. “I quite enjoy you senseless,” I say.

He laughs. “Do you now? Well, you shall have your fill of it, believe me.” His self-assured grin is back in place. “Now allow me to escort you back to your room. James will never forgive me if you are too tired in the morning to participate in his scavenger hunt.”

I hesitate. My body is still throbbing, and I know this may be the only night we have. Once he finds out the truth about me, he may never find me desirable again.