Bold Seduction (12 page)

“What are you doing?” Spence boomed. The dogs barked in unison causing her to jump and drop one of the maps. Spence leapt and snatched up the parchment, his face thunderous. “Do not touch anything. No one is to touch my work!” His voice sounded fierce, his manner cold and imperious. “Step away from the table at once! Do you understand? Get out!”

How
dare
he vent his spleen? Phil sputtered, about to explain she was only dusting and hadn’t disturbed anything…much. He strode toward her, his expression dark and dangerous, enough to cause her to back up a few steps.

His eyes glowed with an inner heat that had nothing to do with desire. “Get. Out.”

Phil ran with the cloth still clutched in her hand and slammed the door behind her. The muffled sound of the dogs barking followed her all the way to the kitchen. She banged the door shut, then leaned on the counter, her chest heaving not only from her exertions, but with fury.

Bizarre man--mad as a hatter too. To lose control like that because she
dared
to touch his belongings. By his own admission he described himself as strange. How right he’d been! She tossed the cloth into the sink, then picked up a nearby pot and flung it against the opposite wall.
Bastard!
It bounced off, knocking loose a chunk of jagged plaster with it. There was only one thing she could do to calm the rage boiling the blood in her veins.

Clean.

* * * *

The afternoon passed in a rush. Phil did not prepare breakfast or lunch and as far as she was concerned, the professor could starve. She waited for him to come to the kitchen to seek out a meal, but he never did. Fine. Although she worried about Theodora and Justinian. Surely they needed food. After conducting a quick inspection of the root cellar she noticed very little chicken remained. He must have fed the dogs that morning before she arose.

Glancing down at her dress, she frowned. Utterly ruined. What a bloody mess. She should have removed it. Too late now. Stains covered her from the bodice to mid-knee. Anger clouded her mind most of day, and she forgot to put on the apron. However, she did make quite a dent in the appearance of the kitchen. With her rash cleaning spree, she managed to place all the rubbish and broken crockery in large wooden crates, and scrubbed layers of grime off the counters and the sink basin. At least the working water pump allowed her to wash the dishes and pans that could be salvaged. Wiping away the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve, she realized she could use another bath. Thankfully the tub still sat in the corner.

Phil opened the back door. First, she would haul the large crates outside. It was up to the odd professor what he did with them. A cold blast of air hit her. The sun was setting and the warmth it provided long gone. In fact, the temperature must have plunged rather quickly as a heavy ice fog hung low across the horizon.

With great effort she dragged one of the heavy crates out the door. She heard a rip of material. The seam let go under her arm.
Bloody great.
Stepping back inside, she started as one of the dogs stood in the middle of the room cocking its head at her.

“Theodora, I presume? Come looking for a bite to eat?”

The dog snorted, wagged her tail, and swung its gaze toward the open door. With a burst of speed the animal bolted past her outside into the heavy mist disappearing from sight.

Phil covered her mouth in shock. The dog was aged and not in the best of health, according to Spence. Yet the beast moved quickly enough. Bloody hell, what if the dog lost its way and perished? Spence would be heartbroken, and it would be all her fault.

Without further thought, Phil ran outside calling Theodora’s name. The sound travelled far in the cold twilight air, but the dog did not respond. Venturing farther into the ice fog, her slippered feet numbed with the cold. She lifted her skirts to ease her path through the shin-high snow. Damn the beast! Phil turned in a circle scanning the horizon, but the snow covered everything in a great blanket of white. Nothing was visible, not even the house. All turned around, she did not know which way to move. Damn her poor sense of direction. Blowing on her reddened knuckles, she tried desperately to warm them. Might as well head back and inform Spence his dear pet did a runner. Yet another thing for him to be annoyed with her about. Blast, which direction
was
the house?

A gust of wind captured the loose snow and swirled it all around her, making visibility impossible, covering the path she had made. She took a tentative step, then another. Phil squinted, trying to find the light glowing from the kitchen to guide her. No luck. Perhaps she headed in the wrong direction. She did an about face and walked forward, shivering now from the wind and snow. The slippers made traversing difficult. She slipped and slid as it became a real effort to stay upright. Should have worn her boots today.
Happy bloody New Year
. Thus far, it turned out to be a disaster.

Taking a step, she skidded in the snow, landing on her side.
Fuck!
A hot blade of pain shot through her ankle and rolled up her leg with lightning speed. Flexing her ankle, relief covered her at the realization it wasn’t broken, at the worst, perhaps sprained. After two attempts, she managed to stand upright. Limping, she walked forward and tumbled down an embankment.
I’m going to die in bloody Wales.

* * * *

There were numerous times during the day Spence had every intention of seeking Phil out and apologizing profusely. His abhorrent burst of anger deserved an acknowledgement of contrition. Pride caused him to hesitate. He would be admitting to a weakness in his character, one he fought hard to conceal. All his life he was called the duke’s odd son and what happened with Phil became another random episode in a long line of such disturbing incidents. When someone touched his things, it often flew him into a rage. Everything in his life contained order, much like his mind. His family and the servants learned to stay clear of his possessions. As a rule he was not a volatile man, his nature on the whole calm and serene in most circumstances almost to the point his family and others wondered if he possessed anything as basic as human emotions. And yet he allowed Phil in his room, even more astonishing is the fact he allowed her to shave him and touch his toiletries. He did not react. Perhaps he finally moved past such reactions or perhaps it was Phil. He found a woman he could allow within his imaginary but solidly drawn boundaries.

Now this.
How to explain? He did not understand it and neither did his family. One incident at ten years of age had him curled up in his mother’s lap sobbing hysterically while his father paced and wrung his hands in worry. A doctor had been called in. After the examination, he declared Spence should be placed in an asylum for a short period of time with shock treatments as a possible cure. Thank God his father dismissed the doctor at once with a severe tongue lashing to send him on his way. Regardless, word spread of the “mad son of the duke,” which caused Spence to withdraw to his books and academia.

No one stood by him other than his family. His parents and brothers did their best to protect him and minimize the incidents, but he did have a few through the years. Now he had exposed Phil to his inner demons. If she held any feelings for him at all, he may have killed them.

Theodora, wet and shivering, loped into the room, barking furiously. He’d wondered where the dog had wandered off to. Justinian raised his head, looking between him and Theodora as if trying to ascertain the cause of the alarm. Theodora was not a dog given to histrionics. Spence jumped to his feet at once. “What is it, old girl?”

Still barking, the dog faced the doorway and took a few steps into the hall. Facing him, her growls and woofs became insistent in their tone. Justinian, no doubt as confused as Spence, fell into step behind him. He followed the animal down the stairs and into the kitchen. The door was open with snow blowing in through the entrance.
Phil. Where was she?

Theodora woofed gruffly to gain his attention, then bolted through the door into the darkening twilight. “Justinian, sit. Stay.”

The dog obeyed him immediately. Spence’s heart lurched in his chest. He knew his canine companion well. She would not raise such an alarm unless something had happened. Visibility was poor, blowing snow, and a thick frosty mist made it difficult to move about. Good thing he knew the grounds well. Bile rose in his throat burning hot with fear as he chased after Theodora’s frantic barks toward the edge of the cliff. Dear God,
no
.

Peering over the precipice, the layer of white interspersed with the increasing darkness blanked his vision. Damn, he should head back to the house, light a lantern… At that moment, as if by providence, the mist dissipated enough for him to make out part of a figure half-buried in snow, lying precariously on the ledge.

“Phil! Philomena!” he cried. No reply. Theodora barked and Spence patted her head. “Good job, old girl. Well done.”

The ledge, though narrow, was only a dozen feet off the end of the ridge. He could climb down. But then they would both be stuck. No, he was tall enough he could manage to clamber back even with Phil over his shoulder if needs must. The rock face was not smooth, but contained jagged edges for possible climbing. No time to lose, he must get her back to the house. No time to ascertain the location of a lantern and rope either. The temperature grew colder by the minute.

He grasped the border and lowered himself. His booted foot found an out jutting of rock, then another until he was perched on the outcrop. The bitter wind howled all around them. A blast of cold snow hit his face, the flakes settling on his lashes.

“Phil!”

She lay still, not responding. A stark fear rolled through him, chilling him more deeply than the cold wind. Spence brushed away the snow from her face and tapped her cheeks none too gently. Phil moaned and stirred, but did not open her eyes. Where he found the strength he wasn’t sure, but he crouched down and slid her limp form over his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled while shifting her weight in a more comfortable position. He glanced up. Theodora peered over the edge and woofed. “Yes, old girl. I will be careful.”

Spence took his time climbing the rock face until he was able to slide Phil gently off his shoulder onto the ground above. He lifted himself upward, then scooped her up into his arms.

With Theodora leading the way, he made it back to the house in no time at all. Justinian gave him a welcoming woof. As he stepped into the kitchen the most terrible feeling overcame him. He could not lose her or bear it if anything happened to her. Shaking from the cold, but also from raw terror, he never experienced such a wave of despair and sense of loss before. In that instant he knew he would give up his own life to save hers.

The first sensation Phil experienced was a bone-chilling coldness covering her body. She shivered as she slowly opened her blurry eyes. Flickering flames caught her attention, and it took a moment to realize she stared at a fire in the hearth. She lay before it--where? A gentle woof caught her attention. The study. Theodora and Justinian stared down at her.

“Oh, thank God, Phil. You are awake. You had us all quite worried.”

Spence.
He kneeled next to her. The look of concern also showed relief and tenderness. Fast melting snow was evident on his clothes and in his hair.

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a dry croak. Spence wrapped a warm quilt around her as he had done with Theodora days before. He pulled her close, rubbing the cloth against her goose-bumped skin, whispering words of reassurance. Phil could not hold back the tears, she let them come. The stark fact hit her then and there as he held her close. She loved him. Over the past several days her feelings intensified exponentially, but this moment, holding her, consoling her with no regard for his own comfort, removed the last of her denial. She was deeply and irretrievably in love with Spencer Hornsby. The admission made her cry harder.

“There, don’t cry, Phil. You are safe. We should get you out of these wet things immediately. You’ve lost your shoes.”

He lifted her foot between his large hands and rubbed feeling back into it, then did the same with the other. She flinched and groaned as Spence felt around her ankle. His touch was gentle and caring. “Does it hurt? I do not feel any broken bones.”

“A little. Maybe…a sprain,” she answered.

Reaching under her gown, he removed her stockings, while laying them before the fire. Together, they removed the rest of her garments. The brush of his long elegant fingers against her skin ignited a flame deep within, warming her quicker than any blanket. Good thing she didn’t wear a corset today. He wrapped the quilt around her tighter.

“What…What about you? You are…are soaking wet….” She shivered, her teeth chattering.

Spence stood. “I shall return quickly. I have clothes we can wear, plus I have a flask of brandy in my room. Will you be all right for a moment?” She nodded.

Justinian, sitting to her left, laid his head in her lap, staring up at her with an adoring look that made the tears fall faster. Theodora laid on her other side.

Spence nodded. “That’s it lad, look after Phil. Good job, old girl. Warm yourself by the fire. Theodora is the heroine here; she lead me straight to you.”

“Oh…Spence.” She sniffled.

She had not cried like this in decades. Spence kissed her forehead, lightly wiping the tears away from her cheeks. He left the room. Phil poked her hands out from under the comforter and patted both dogs.

“My dear friends,” she whispered. Justinian whimpered and leaned into her touch. The warm quilt helped elevate the chill from her bones, but still she shivered. How frightening to fall off a cliff. And clumsy.

Spence returned in no time at all. He quickly stripped off and laid his wet clothes on the floor next to hers. She admired him afresh. Regardless of her weakened and chilled state, a roll of hot desire rushed through her. Leaning down, he handed her a nightshirt and slipped one over his head as he sat next to her. Since her shaking made it difficult to poke her arms through the sleeves, Spence assisted her. Again, his gentle touch calmed her. Emanating from his garment, the sensual scent of sandalwood invaded her nostrils. Spence hung a large towel from the mantel above the fire.