Temptation & Twilight (35 page)

It would be so easy to place her hand in his and allow him to take her upstairs, undress her, caress her.

Tempt her.

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“You ask for too much, Iain,” she murmured. “More than I can give.”

“Do I?”

Movement against her made her pause, made her stiffen as she felt him press forward, felt his body shift until his back and shoulders were pressing indecently against her belly and his head was turned, the curve of his cheek lying on her lap.

“Can you give me this, Beth? Just one moment to lie here and close my eyes, and feel you beneath me, soft and curved?”

“And what would you find?” she asked, her voice little more than a breathless whisper.

“Solace.”

Closing her eyes, she bit hard on her lip, trying not to weaken against that one word. There had been no hesitation when he said it. It was as if he’d known it—what he’d desired all along, a feeling of tranquility. Peace.

Rightness.

Her hand hovered over his head, her fingers itching to touch, to run her fingers through his hair, which would be damp with snow. What picture did they make, seated on this bench, a tempest of white swirling around them as he laid his head in her lap?

“Do you believe a mere mortal can change, Beth?”
Whatever he was once is not the man he is now…

Lucy’s words came rushing back, and Elizabeth bit her lip, forcing herself not to answer in haste.

“Or do you believe that he is forever condemned to be what he was, what he allowed himself to be?”
Yes…
The word hovered on her tongue.
Yes, you are
condemned. A soul cannot change.
But, then, if that were the case, she had to be honest and say that if one could not change, if one was condemned by previous actions BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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and reputation, then she would forever be that naive, foolish girl. Not the woman she prided herself on being now.

“Beth,” he whispered, then said nothing more, but reached for her hand and brought it to his hair. Unbidden, her fingers went into the wet strands, stroking and clutching as the sounds of the storm swirled around them.

Such a strange place and time for this, but then, their relationship had never been predictable, or what one would deem acceptable. He had always been wild, half-tamed, always thumbing his nose at the rules and proprieties.

It was what she had loved best about him, his ability to surprise her, to make her forget the world they inhabited and the expectations that world had for them. He had tempted her, taken her from her angelic pedestal and made her feel mortal, and womanly. She had only ever been herself—her true self—with Iain. Only he had the ability to set her free.

So it should not surprise her that they were seated on a garden bench in the midst of a snowstorm, the wind howling a lamenting, sorrowful sound as Iain placed his head in her lap, and her fingers attempted to give him what he desired—solace and peace.

Why she should give it to him, she had no clue. He deserved nothing kind from her. No words of forgiveness, no easy acceptance. And yet, she thought, as her fingers left his hair and trailed over his forehead, it would be all too easy to offer him that—and more. All too easy to find herself loving him again. Once more, she scoffed.

Had she ever truly stopped loving him? Or had she just buried those feelings, making herself believe that she was stronger than that, and would not be such a ninny as to continue to love a man who had ruined her. Who had been so cruel and careless with that love.

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Reaching for her hand, he brought her fingertips to his mouth, placing a long, reverent kiss on them.

Silly, silly fool,
she whispered to herself,
he knows all
the ways to make you weaken, to make you capitulate.

And when you have done so, when you have surrendered
your soul, and your self-respect, when you have submit-ted to him, what then? What solace will he provide you?

What peace and tranquility will you find with him?

Temptation was fleeting. A visceral force that came, overwhelmed, then dissipated. Shame, however, was never spent. It only grew, engulfed, encompassed, destroyed. And this, Elizabeth knew, she must never forget.

Leave him now,
the voice inside her warned.
Run before temptation can claw at you. Flee before he can melt
that iced corner of your heart where your love for him
could so easily become thawed, and revived.
And perhaps it was already too late, she thought, as she listened to the wind, felt the snow hit her cheeks. Despite the snow and the wind and the cold, she was already melting.

As if he knew the turn of her mind, he rose from the bench, captured her hand in his and brought her up to stand before him. “The storm is quickly approaching. It’s time to go in. But, Beth,” he murmured against her ear,

“the night is far from over.”

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THE TEA WAS WARMING, infusing her with some much needed strength. Outside, the wind howled, fierce and low, rattling the windows, while inside, the fire in the hearth crackled. On the opposite side of the salon, Iain sat, no doubt studying her from beneath his long lashes.

Elizabeth could see him, sprawled, most likely, in a chair, with his boots crossed, his hands folded across his abdomen. She’d been relieved when he had not taken the spot beside her on the settee. She was still discomposed by their intimacy in the garden. He had made her want things she had scarcely allowed herself to think of, let alone believe in.

“Staff have prepared a room in the guest wing, my lord, and Charles has set out a nightshirt belonging to His Grace. I hope it will do for the night,” Maggie said as she poured the tea. “It’s snowing something fierce out there. Why, Charles says it’s impossible to see more than a foot in front of you. Impossible to ride home tonight. The roads are as slippery as an icicle. We could not in all conscience allow you to make your way home tonight in this blizzard. There’s no telling what might happen to you.”

“Thank you, Maggie. Although I think I might know someone who is not feeling quite as generous as you, and would have no qualms about sending me out into this weather and my certain doom.” BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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How correct you are,
Elizabeth wanted to answer sharply, but she held her tongue and took a sip of her tea instead.

She heard the passing of china, followed by the creak of Maggie’s knees as she curtseyed to Iain. She left them then, with a comment for Lizzy to call when she was ready to prepare for bed. The word made her blush, made her think unseemly thoughts, and how once she had imagined what it would be like to be Iain’s wife, and await him in her bedchamber while she prepared for bed.

The door clicked shut, and Elizabeth occupied her time with sipping her tea, while listening to the rhythmic sway of the pendulum of the mantel clock. The silence was heavy, uncomfortable. She had no knowledge if Iain felt the same way, or if he sat quite at ease. Either way, it didn’t matter. She would not stay here in the room with him.

“I think I shall retire,” she said suddenly, unable to stand the proximity. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll escort you to your room.” Strange, how she felt oddly deflated that he had not opposed her idea, or attempted to make her stay a bit longer. He seemed almost…relieved that she was leaving him. After those moments in the garden, she had expected more from him, at least somewhat of an argument.

Shrugging off the disconcerting notion, Elizabeth rose and smoothed her palms down her gown. “There is no need to trouble yourself. Finish your tea. I’ll ring for Maggie.”

“It’s never any trouble to escort you to your chamber, Elizabeth,” he drawled. He was back to using her proper name. No more
Beths
whispered in his seductive voice.

Reaching for her hand, he did not place it on his arm, but threaded his fingers through hers, holding them BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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clasped in his. He was tugging her along, and she followed him, willingly. Their pace was slow, unhurried.

His fingers clasped hers tighter as they ascended the stairs, him in front. In her mind she counted the stairs, all thirty-seven of them, ensuring she would know when she arrived at the top, so she would not make a spectacle of herself and trip, or worse, bash into him.

Once there, he pulled her along, then slowed, coming to a stop before her chamber door. Raising their clasped hands, he pressed his lips against her knuckles. “Good night, Beth,” he murmured. “Dream of me, hmm?” Before she could answer, he opened the door. “Maggie, your mistress is here. She wishes to retire for the night.” With a curtsey, Elizabeth murmured, “Good night, my lord,” and promptly shut the door behind her.

“I DO HOPE HIS GRACE is safe at an inn this night,” Maggie muttered as she set to undoing Elizabeth’s gown.

“Frightful weather. Can you hear it beyond the window?

The wind howling like some demon beast in the night.”

“It does sound mournful, doesn’t it?”

“Aye. And you always did have a strange fondness for beasts,” Maggie teased, “and for healing their damaged souls, or at the very least trying to.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Elizabeth asked. Her comment was much too close to what she and Iain had talked about outside. But Maggie had no knowledge of their past. Couldn’t possibly suspect that there was anything between them.

Maggie decided not to answer, but instead talked of much safer things. “Well, I daresay you enjoy this weather, but only because you’re in here, tucked warmly at home, not out braving the elements. I’m glad his lordship chose not to travel back home tonight, even if it’s BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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only a few blocks away. Imagine the horses, how they would suffer in this weather. Not to mention how they would manage the icy roads, pulling that great hulking carriage of his.”

“Yes, you’ve explained that already,” Elizabeth muttered. “The weather is a convenient excuse for you to extend an overnight stay to Lord Alynwick.”

“You can’t send his lordship out into weather such as this!” Maggie exclaimed as she did away with Elizabeth’s corset. “You’d never forgive yourself if some harm came to him.”

“No, of course not,” she murmured as Maggie slipped Lizzy’s night rail over her head. “Besides, the weather is so terrible that there isn’t a soul or carriage in sight.

No one will know or even suspect that his lordship has stayed the night.”

“Let us hope not.”

“Well, I’m sure the weather will be all cleared up on the morrow. These storms never last more than a night.

It’s only November, after all.”

“Indeed.”

“Shall I brush out your hair now?”

“No, I’ll do it. You go to bed, Maggie. You’ve had a very long day. I’m not quite ready for bed yet.”

“You’re certain?”

Lizzy couldn’t help but smile. “I can brush my hair, I assure you.”

“Well, all right, then,” Maggie said, but there was a strange quality to her voice. “Sleep well, Lady Elizabeth.” When the door clicked shut behind her companion, Elizabeth made her way to her dressing table and sank onto the cushioned chair. Running her fingers over the table, she felt the hand mirror, the brush and comb all aligned before her. To her right was a box that housed BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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her hairpins. For long minutes she sat silently staring at a mirror she could not see. Outside, the storm raged, and she listened, allowing her thoughts to settle into a semblance of calm.

The room was warm, the fire burning brightly on the hearth. Even from here she could feel the heat of it, the flickering flames, and envisioned shadows dancing on the walls. Skimming her fingers over her nightgown, she realized that Maggie had put a fine lawn garment on her. It had a lace yoke and delicate ribbon work. Strange for a night like this, when a snowstorm whirled outside.

She wasn’t cold. Just curious. The fire was actually very warm, and soon Lizzy began to feel languid from the warmth, and the comforting sound of the wind. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the door open or close, until she heard the click of the lock.

“Maggie?”

A warm hand wrapped around the nape of her neck; the tips of fingers burrowed into her upswept hair. “Me.” Iain… Dear God, what was he doing here?

His hands moved from her neck, smoothed over her shoulders and down her arms. He reached over her from behind and grasped her hand, bringing it to her lap. Then he placed something there. Took her hand and placed it on the object he had laid in her lap.

Tracing her fingers over it, she discovered the slightly rough texture, smelled the scent of leather. It was small, square, the spine embossed with an emblem that felt very familiar under her questing fingertips.

“The Veiled Lady’s diary,” Iain murmured next to her as he slowly pulled a pin from her hair. A strand fell down and she felt him lift it to his face. “Open the cover.

We’ll read it together.”

Oh, how like him to use this against her. He should BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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