Authors: Patrice Hannah
Tags: #romance, #love, #historical romance, #medieval romance
“
That
you are far too inquisitive
,
milord
.”
“I have the right to be, Miss Rolfen. I’m
harboring a criminal.”
“Kindly step away and let me pass.”
Ulric blocked her way with his large frame
and folded his arms. He had grown some new insight since he and
Gilgallon had last spoken, and he was more than ready to agree that
the wench did seem far more complex that she’d been letting on. He
owed it to himself to get to the bottom of it.
“Walk with me, Miss Rolfen. I fear I might
need to have a discussion with you.”
“What type of discussion?”
“Have you ever ridden?”
Audelia gawked. “A horse?”
The fact that she had asked sent all sorts
of graphic images surging through his mind but Ulric banished them
as quickly as they had come. “Yes, a horse.”
Her mind scattered to a time when she’d
ridden alongside Jocelyn on many extracurricular occasions at
Madame de Lucci’s domicile. “I’ve ridden a few times.”
“
Sounds
like enough. We shall take a tour of the estate and have our little
discussion
in the
meanwhile.”
Audelia drew back, eyeing him skeptically.
“You trust me to take a capable horse?”
Ulric
chuckled and turned away, straightening his sleeves. “You don’t
know the grounds yet, Miss Rolfen. And even when you do, escaping
is not a task you’d wish to test right now. Especially when I’ll be
no more
than six feet away
from you and on a very healthy stallion as well.”
* * *
R
ubbing the chestnut
mare gently on the withers, Audelia shifted in the saddle and
glanced sideways to find Lord St. Rosso staring. He’d been doing
that all morning--on their ride across the estate and even now,
where they were taking a moment to observe what he had referred to
as the ruins of the first Chastelle Manor.
Green eyes narrowed a bit below furrowed
brows, windblown locks of his very dark hair falling over his
forehead. She thought, in the warm morning sunlight, he looked
positively fetching.
“Her name is Olearia,” he was saying,
sending his stallion, Gray, in a tight circle around her.
Audelia’s grip tightened on the reigns as
the mare shifted with unease. Her own nerves were becoming skittish
as the man stopped right next to her, only a hand reach away. “You
named her?”
“Right at the birthing.”
Ulric then looked out, and thank God, for
this gave her a chance to catch a well-needed breath and perhaps to
study him a little. Lord St. Rosso might be a hard man but he was
certainly not hard to look at, at all. Or mayhap he was just being
polite on purpose, which really made no sense to her since he had
no reason to be. Audelia suspected something must have happened to
summon this sort of behavior from the very same man who’d promised
to have her hanged.
That or he was doing exactly what she had
learned to expect from most men. Her eyes narrowed as she watched
him.
“Am I still in line to the gallows?” she
asked, heart hammering as she did so. He did not answer straight
away but continued to stare out at the wide open meadow as if he
could see something out there that no one else could make out. When
he did face her again, a sly smile formed across his strong sensual
mouth. It was a smile she could feel deep down in her knees, which
should not have happened seeing that she did not even like him.
“I haven’t quite made up my mind on what I
am to do with you yet.” The wind picked up a bit and swept a thick
lock over his right eye. “But truth be told, I haven’t decided to
have you hanged either.” Lord St. Rosso’s gaze dipped to her lips,
to her bosom...and then back to her eyes. “You clean up
rather...nicely.”
What?
Audelia swallowed her gasp and
scowled, praying that her surprise was not obvious. “What is it
that you want from me?”
“To overwhelm you with pleasure, Miss
Rolfen. Quite thoroughly.”
If her mouth was not agape, then it
certainly felt like it was. Audelia gawked over at the man and
stuttered, trying to find coherent words to say but failed
miserably. She’d heard men say words of such similarity before but
never had she been the recipient and never had they ever been from
a man of such superiority as was Lord St. Rosso. Either she was
imagining things or going daft because she must be losing control
of her faculties. Oh lord, the man must think her a tease or
something of the sort to speak his wishes so freely.
“
I’m no harlot,
sir
,” she hissed
between clenched teeth.
“Well, thank heavens. I had no intention of
purchasing your favors. Shall we take a walk?”
He had already slid out of his saddle. “No.
I think we should head back now. Her Ladyship may very well--”
Ulric lifted her as if she weighed no more
than a feather and deposited her before him. A long raven-colored
braid slid over and down her shoulder, springy tendrils framing her
lovely frowning face. It took all his willpower not to give in to
his manly urges and devour her right there and then.
“Are you daft?”
“
On the contrary,” he muttered, ignoring the fact that
she
was,
in fact, implying that he was. He
even offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Audelia walked away, ignoring his gesture
and headed for a nearby tree where she could find a comfortable
seat. Blasted man. “You may think you can sweet talk me, but you’d
better think twice about it.”
Ulric grinned and followed close behind,
admiring the way her hips swayed angrily beneath her dress. For a
moment he wondered if she even knew how desirable she was.
“Am I to assume that you are not...innocent
in the ways of the world then?”
She turned to glare at him before plopping
down in the grass. “I’m a thief.”
“I doubt many thieves talk as prettily as
you.” At that she rolled her eyes and looked away. “You are
educated, that part is clear enough.”
“
Is this my
interrogation?”
Ulric reached upwards and picked a leaf from
the tree before settling down in the grass himself. He made sure to
put a couple feet between then lest he scared her and had her
running off like a madwoman.
“How’d you become a thief?”
“
Not
everyone is as fortunate as you,
Lord St. Rosso
--”
“Ulric.”
“--and some of us don’t just live. We
survive.”
Ulric gazed at her, a pain visible in her
eyes that he could not figure out but he intended to. Something
dire must have shoved her into such a life of thievery and deceit,
and it could not have been comfortable at all. Whatever--or
whoever--it had been had hurt her deeply to cause such a pain.
“
I
suppose I should offer my sympathies then,” he began, watching her
reaction carefully. “
I
was born wealthy
and therefore had no choice in the matter. But I do need one
truthful answer from you.” She did not answer but he knew she
understood. “Where is your family?”
Audelia pushed to her feet, keeping her face
carefully averted lest he saw the tears clouding her eyes. Family.
It was a word that she hadn’t allowed pass her lips for months,
simply because it proved too very painful to utter. Lord Bryce
Ulric St. Rosso was asking too many questions all of a sudden and
she did not like it one bit.
“I have no family.”
She could hear his feet moving through the
grass, could feel his presence approaching behind her. His voice
came directly, closer to her ear than she’d thought it was.
“And that’s the honest truth?”
Audelia forced her voice to be steady, her
feet shaking a bit in the riding boots he’d found her just this
morning. “Yes.”
“A likely story. Shall we head back
then?”
“Just a moment.” Audelia stood there for
possibly another five minutes before she turned and headed back,
eyes free of tears.
Eleven
“
I
t was a
wonderful afternoon, Bryce,” Lady Ryia said, leaning against the
closed door of his study and looking as if she was about to swoon.
“Lady Shentil is such a great hostess, as always.”
Ulric nodded slightly and continued to gaze
out the window. Ever since they’d returned from their ride, Miss
Rolfen had been avoiding him at all costs. Perhaps, he should have
been more mild in his declaration of his desires for her but he
hardly could have. The wench had managed to set a sudden thirst
within him that needed to quenched. He shifted closer, making out
her figure as she moved around the gardens, gathering a bouquet of
pinkish-white daisies.
“
Widow
Shentil is
not good company.”
“
Take no offense, dear brother, but neither are you.” Her
slippers clicked against the wooden flooring as she made her way
over. “
Lady
Shentil happens to be quite the
philanthropist, as well.”
“And over the last few years, she’s done
nothing but become more and more scandalous.”
“And,” she continued. “She happens to be
managing a school for girls. With generous funding, she aims to
launch them into very respectable circles.”
Ulric snorted. “Is my opinion of the woman
supposed to change now?”
“You need not be judgmental. She’s trying to
fix her reputation in a very noble way.” The annoyance in his
sister’s voice grew. “Aren’t you worried about what people say
about you either?”
“That’s if I gave a fig about what people
think, Ryia.” His gaze remained steady on Audelia Rolfen as she
brought the bouquet up her face, as if to sniff them. “They can all
go to hell for all I care.”
“Are you quite done ogling my lady’s maid,
then?”
Ulric smiled and turned from the window.
“Not quite.”
Lady Ryia pointed a finger at him and
scowled. “Do not interfere with her. She’s a lovely girl with a
good temperament.”
“She’s also happens to be a desirable wench
with a very tempting tongue.”
Ulric moved
to lean against his desk, ignoring the stain in his sister’s
cheeks. He’d always credited himself as a man who spoke exactly how
he felt and with Ryia, it was no different. He wanted her
supposed
lady’s maid and he meant to have her.
“There are several bawdyhouses in town,
Bryce, with many willing females. If you want to satisfy
your...needs, then I suggest you find one.”
“Where or with whom I choose to satisfy my
needs do not concern you, sister. Perhaps, you should be ecstatic
that I’m not running around like a dog in heat and spreading my
seed.”
Ryia blew out a long heavy breath and threw
her hands up in frustration. “My god, you are incorrigible.”
“Thank you.” Ulric grinned and planted a
firm kiss on her cheek before taking his seat. “Now go occupy your
time elsewhere. I’ve got business to attend to.”
Ulric waited until his sister left the room
before unlocking the right drawer in his desk and reaching inside.
Retrieving the dagger, that he had taken from Miss Rolfen the very
night she’d aimed to rob him, he turned it over and over again in
his hands and smiled.
The scalawag who had been waiting and been
caught beneath his window had none but blurted out her intentions
on the spot and ran off at the earliest opportunity. Ulric hadn’t
thought it worth the effort to track him down, not when he’d
learned that she was the one behind it all.
But quite recently, he found himself
developing a strange liking for the wench. And it had been arranged
to have her released once his sister left in a few days,
considering she followed through with the plan. But he didn’t see
at all how he’d allow her out of his grasp. He wanted her with a
burning sensation that threatened to engulf him. His manhood could
testify to that.
Shoving the dagger back inside the drawer,
he massaged his chin and thought on it. If he had anything at all
to say about it, Miss Rolfen was not going anywhere and he was
going to make sure of that.
A brief knock came on the door and he sat
up. It must be Gilgallon. Ulric had been expecting him.
“Come in.”
The guard stepped inside and shoved the door
close. “Milord.”
“Have you discovered anything?”
“No, sir. No one in town happens to know
her. It’s like she doesn’t exist at all.”
Ulric scratched his temple in thought.
“That...or she’s not from around here.”
“Possibly.”
“I shall keep an even closer eye on her
then. Thank you, Gilgallon.”
“No problem, milord.”
The guard bowed his head and then turned to
leave.
“Gilgallon?”
“Sir?”
Ulric shifted awkwardly in his seat and
brushed at the collar of his shirt. “Perhaps, you should ask Cook
to prepare you a proper lunch. I doubt the biscuits and lemonade my
sister feeds on is likely to suit your appetite.”
Gilgallon’s face lit up with a strange
brightness as he left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind
him.
* * *
“
M
y sister is off
again, apparently.” Ulric slid into the library, fully knowing he
would have discovered her there. “
Widow
Shentil seemed
to have decided to enjoy the local theater tonight before she
leaves in the morning.”
Audelia Rolfen’s hand paused as she made to
turn a book leaf. “Lord St. Rosso.”