Beyond the Grave (27 page)

It wasn't very eloquent, but he wasn't a man who was comfortable with expressing his emotions. "I like how you thought it through," I said with a small smile.

His brows lifted. "And?"

I stepped closer to him. "And I like that you are not going to shut me away in this house to keep me safe, despite the incident with the saddle."

"I didn't say that."

"I want to expose the person trying to hurt me, Lincoln, not hide from them."

A shadow flickered across his eyes. It was filled with pain. I drew him into a hug and he let go of the chair behind him and wrapped his arms around me. He sighed, his breath ruffling the hair at my neck.

"You worry me, Charlie," he murmured.

"You worry me too, Lincoln. But it will be all right. We'll go to France then come back and find out who cut the saddle." I stroked his hair and relished the feel of his strong arms, his hard chest, and the way he held me tightly as if he were scared to let me go.

We stood like that for a long moment. For my part, I enjoyed the embrace, but I also wasn't sure what to do next. Kiss him? Talk further? And why wasn't he kissing me?

The knock made us jump apart. Seth stood in the doorway, a silly grin on his face. "Finally!"

"What do you want?" Lincoln growled.

"Don't get snappy with me because you were caught with your trousers down, so to speak." His grin widened.

"I would answer him, if I were you, Seth," I warned. Lincoln had gone rigid with fury. I suspected that meant he didn't want others knowing about us. His reticence seemed somewhat unnecessary considering Seth had caught us red-handed, and most of the committee members already suspected we were more than employer and employee.

"You're needed in the stables."

"Are there any more problems?"

"No, but we need another set of muscles. Cook says he's too busy to help."

"I'll be there in a moment."

"Very good." Seth whistled all the way down the hallway.

"Lincoln," I said as he folded his arms across his chest. "This…the thing that just happened between us…you are not going to pretend it didn't happen, are you?"

He smiled. Yes.
Smiled
. So he
was
capable of it. I felt quite giddy with wonder as I drank in the sight of the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. "No." He took me in his arms again and kissed me tenderly, teasingly, pecking and retreating, exploring.

Then the kiss deepened, sending my heart racing and my mind blank. I couldn't get enough of him. Couldn't get close enough, even though our bodies were pressed together. I clutched his shoulders, holding on because he was solid and I felt in danger of floating away. His hand splayed at my back, the other at my waist. It moved to my hip and touched the chatelaine there. I groaned.

As if my voice had slapped him, he broke off the kiss and stepped away. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, his eyes turned stormy. "I…we…must stop."

I nodded stupidly, unable to speak. With a steadying intake of breath, I too stepped back.

"I'll tell Seth that the committee members are not to be informed," he said.

"Oh?" It took me a moment to comprehend that he was speaking, let alone register what he was saying.

"They're too reactionary to a change of this magnitude."

Magnitude? Reactionary? I suppose he meant they might try to send me away. But surely Lincoln could just overrule them and do his own thing as he usually did.

"Eastbrooke and Gillingham already suspect," he went on, "but I can fool them a little longer. You'll still be in charge of redecorating. After the parlor, the entire house is yours to do with as you wish. I'll employ a housekeeper and maids to take over your duties. Anyone you need. You're now mistress of Lichfield, not a servant. Is that clear?"

I nodded numbly then watched him leave, his back ramrod straight, his hair disheveled from my exploring fingers.

What had just happened? The kiss. Yes. But beyond that…he didn't want the committee to know about us, yet he was talking about me becoming mistress of Lichfield. Did he mean to make me his wife after he'd worked out how to broach the subject with the committee? But that was madness.

Wasn't it?

I was a street waif, disowned by her adopted father, bastard daughter of a murderer and poverty-stricken French woman. And Lincoln was the son of someone important, of that I was certain. His mother may have been little better off than mine, but I suspected his father was a lord, perhaps even one of the men on the committee. Lincoln may not care for social distinctions but the world did. A public admission of our relationship might see him expelled from the ministry by four people who cared about such things very much.

Anyway, it was foolish to think about us being more than lovers when he'd not promised me anything. He'd even declared that he didn't want to marry, that he was unfit to be a husband. While I disagreed, I doubted he'd changed his mind so soon. So he
must
be referring to making me his lover. I didn't care. It didn't matter to me if we never formalized our union, as long as his heart belonged to me.

I plopped down in an armchair and stared at the bookshelf. I was trying to sort through my thoughts when one of the books caught my attention. It was a reference about Greek myths.

I plucked it off the shelf and flipped to the page on Aphrodite. "The Goddess of Love," was written in bold type beneath her name. My breath hitched. I read the paragraph about her then re-read it. Goddess of love!

Good lord. Lincoln may not be very good at voicing his feelings, but he certainly knew how to show them in other ways. I sat back and smiled down at the picture of the woman who looked so similar to the one engraved on my chatelaine. He'd given it to me even while he'd been pushing me away, even as he told me he was not capable of love. This was proof that he was.

I just hoped his heart would remain true when the committee learned of our relationship, such as it was, and they tried to send me away. Because I had no doubt some of them, if not all, would do everything in their power to separate us.

I
hope
you enjoyed reading BEYOND THE GRAVE as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book please consider telling your friends and writing a review at the store where you purchased it. If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book, subscribe to my newsletter at
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I
wrote
a short story featuring Lincoln Fitzroy that is set before THE LAST NECROMANCER. Titled STRANGE HORIZONS, it reveals how he learned where to look for Charlie during a visit to Paris. While the story can be read as a standalone, it contains spoilers from The 1st Freak House Trilogy, so I advise you to read that series first. The best part is, the short story is FREE, but only to my newsletter subscribers.
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T
he Emily Chambers
Spirit Medium Trilogy

The 1st Freak House Trilogy

The 2nd Freak House Trilogy

The 3rd Freak House Trilogy

The Ministry of Curiosities Series

The Assassins Guild Series

Lord Hawkesbury's Players Series

The Witchblade Chronicles

Courting His Countess

Surrender

Redemption

The Mercenary's Price

C
.J
. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember. She worked as a librarian and technical writer until she was able to channel her twin loves by writing historical fiction. She has won and placed in numerous romance writing contests, including taking home RWAustralia’s Emerald Award in 2008 for the manuscript that would become her novel
Honor Bound
. Under the name Carolyn Scott, she has published contemporary romantic mysteries, including
Finders Keepers Losers Die
, and
The Diamond Affair
. After spending her childhood surrounded by the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, she lives today in suburban Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and their two children. She loves to hear from readers.  You can contact her in one of these ways:

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