She would then take care with her hair and her clothes. Only when she felt she was perfectly presentable, would she make her way downstairs, carefully, with measured steps. She knew the names of all the staff now and would take a moment to say hello or good morning to any of them she saw, feeling pleased when they appeared just as happy to speak to her as she to them. Once outside the dining room she would pause, set her shoulders back, adopt her most bland smile and prepare for her day.
Elinore sagged in relief when she found the dining room barren of Hayter’s presence. She raised her head and sniffed the air, sighing in happiness when she caught the scent of the spicy tea that Caleb normally drank. There was no coffee carafe placed on the serving table and Elinore could only assume that Hayter had slept in or perhaps, from Elinore’s lips to God’s ears, he would absent today. She poured herself a cup of tea, thinking to head directly to the kitchen and take her breakfast with Mrs. Thistlewaite. She had just stepped toward the kitchen door when a sound from behind her made her pause. She stilled, turning slowly, hoping it would be someone, anyone but Hayter.
It was Caleb.
He looked tired, as though his week had been long and troublesome. His hair was disarrayed - more so than she’d ever seen it. He was dressed well, as always, but there were long shadows under his eyes, his eyes somewhat tired. He smiled when he saw her, those very same tired eyes crinkling slightly at the corner and before she even realized what she was doing, she’d dropped her teacup, dashed across the dining room and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him fiercely, as though he might disappear at any moment or was some strange mirage or figment of her imagination. He was warm and solid against her body and beneath her hands, and she gave into the sudden urge to bury her nose into the hollow of his throat and inhale deeply, taking in his familiar scent and letting it wash over her. He was back and she needn’t feel the weight of all the eyes of Ravenwood on her alone.
“I’m so glad you’ve returned,” she said happily, pulling away for a moment to catch his eye. He seemed pleased to see her as well, if not wholly surprised by her enthusiastic response. Caleb smiled, his teeth white and straight against the dark shadow of his stubble.
Without thinking, she lurched forward and clumsily pressed her lips against his, her hands wrapping around the meat of his shoulders and gripping him tightly. In a flash, she realized what she was doing and was horrified. They were not on such terms. Worse, he wasn’t kissing her back. She did not know much about men and relationships, but she could feel the way he’d gone still under her hands and her lips. She jerked backwards and felt her cheeks flush hot with shame and mortification.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” Elinore said, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Caleb stood before her looking flummoxed and bewildered. She felt her stomach turn nauseatingly and she took a step back. “How rash of me. You must be… I’m so… “ Mortified. Humiliated. Embarrassed. He was standing in front of the door and all she could do was think of escape. With a speed she didn’t know she possessed, she darted past him, down the long halls and corridors and raced up the stairs, locking herself back in her bedroom and securing the door with the chair.
What on earth had possessed her to attack him like that? He seemed genuinely happy to see her and then she had pounced on him. Now that she was in her room and could review the entire thing in her mind, in painstaking detail, she remembered how his body had locked up when she hugged him. He had slightly relaxed into her embrace, but perhaps he’d been trying to be polite and friendly in the face of her inappropriate greeting. And then! Then she had pressed her lips against his and his had been warm and soft, but… still and unmoving. Her stomach turned over again and she felt tears prick her eyes. She’d been waiting so long for him to come back to Ravenwood and be a comfort to her in the face of Hayter’s inappropriate behavior and now she’d gone and done something completely inappropriate herself. Oh God. She’d have to apologize. She would have to. Elinore twisted and wrung her hands. But she couldn’t do it right now. She couldn’t. She sat down on her bed, feeling her throat grow tight with shame and embarrassment. How completely foolish of her. She’d been like a happy dog seeing its master return home from a long day away - blissfully joyful and gleeful and expressing a most out of proportion response to the event. She covered her face with her hands, feeling the heat of her cheeks and the wetness of her tears against her fingertips. God, she wished desperately for Charlotte in that moment. Yes, Alice and Elinore were friends, but Alice was younger than Elinore and not of an age where they should discuss such things. Also, Charlotte had known Elinore since she was a child. Charlotte had gotten sick with her when they both ate too many sweets at the neighborhood parties; Charlotte knew all her horrible secrets and dreadful behavior and would know exactly what to say in this moment. Or perhaps she wouldn’t say anything at all, but would take Elinore’s hair down from its style and brush it out with long, smooth strokes that would make Elinore drowsy and languid.
Elinore lay down on the bed and covered her face with a pillow. What a horrible mistake. She curled onto her side and hugged her pillow close to her chest. After a while, she didn’t know how long, she heard a tremulous knock at her door and then Mrs. Davenport calling her name quietly, asking if she was ill or wanted anything to eat. Mrs. Thistlewaite had missed Elinore at breakfast and sent some toast and tea up. Elinore felt sick at the idea of having to face either of them - she did not want to face anyone. There were a few minutes of silence while Mrs. Davenport waited for a response and then she spoke quietly through the door saying that if Elinore did want something, she could come tell her or send one of the staff and it would be done. She would leave the toast just outside the door. Her kindness and soft tone made Elinore cry. Elinore wondered if Caleb had told Mrs. Davenport what she’d done and she clutched her pillow tighter and shut her eyes.
She dozed fitfully, not tired so much as feeling worn down and wrung out. Alice came by as well and also knocked softly on the door. Elinore couldn’t bear to turn her away silently. She managed to creek the door open slightly and tell Alice that she wasn’t feeling well and thought she should stay the rest of the day in bed. Alice took one look at Elinore’s face and nodded solemnly, reaching her hand through the crack in the doorway and squeezing Elinore’s own hand fiercely. Dear Alice had brought a tray with some water and some biscuits on it, baked special for her by Mrs. Thistlewaite. Elinore took it if only to see the relieved look on Alice’s face when she did. Truth be told, Elinore still couldn’t imagine eating with shame and embarrassment still taking up large portions of her stomach. Alice kept her voice soft and low and Elinore did the same - the two of them whispering quietly in the doorway.
But then Alice mentioned that Caleb had returned and she wasn’t sure that Elinore knew and wasn’t that good news? Elinore managed to smile and said she thought it was very fine news and that he must be quite happy to be home. Alice was pleased as punch, noting Caleb had brought her some very lovely paper for sketching and she couldn’t wait to try it out. Elinore had to lie and tell Alice she thought her headache was getting worse and she really ought to lie down. Alice nodded gravely, her sweet face so serious and solemn as she hoped Elinore felt better soon.
Elinore felt like a liar now on top of feeling like a foolish, silly girl.
It was late afternoon when the third knock came at the door and Elinore knew who it was before the knock came. She heard him come down the hall - the sound of his steps familiar to her. She imagined she could even hear the familiar cadence of his heart and his breathing. His knocks were quiet, but not timid.
“Elinore.”
Caleb’s soft tenor voice came clearly through the closed door and she pushed her face into her pillow. She knew she had to apologize, but she just couldn’t. Not yet. She would. She had to. But she needed longer to wallow and steel her spine.
“Elinore, please open the door.”
He didn’t sound angry or even like he was indulging
her in her foolishness. She thought those would be the worst tones she could hear from him. That if he were angry at her or even worse, if he just dismissed her as being young and foolish… both those things, she thought, would have made her feel worse.
“Please, Elinore.”
The soft, even timbre of his voice and the quiet pleading in his tone was so much more awful. It made her want to crumple in on herself and disappear. Her shoulders hunched up close to her ears and she held her breath, willing herself to be as quiet as possible.
A sound against the door made her wonder if he hit the wood by accident or if he rested his forehead against the solid barrier. She heard a long sigh, as though he too were upset and dismayed. Still, she could not get up, or rather, she would not. She supposed, darkly musing, that if the entire manor were on fire, she would rouse herself from bed and make an escape, but short of that dire happening, she intended to stay where she was until she was ready to speak to Caleb. She was simply not ready yet.
How maddening! She waited for him to return and now, there he was, a few feet from her and it felt nearly impossible for her to see him, or speak with him - all because of a stupid impulse she hadn’t been able to control.
“Mrs. Thistlewaite is making a light soup for you, for dinner, if you feel like coming down. I’ll…” he sighed again and she wondered what he was going to say. He left without completing his sentence and she listened carefully as his footfalls moved away from her room, down the hall and then the stairs, until she couldn’t hear him any longer.
Elinore felt better that he wasn’t angry with her. She took several calming breaths after he left and tried to read for a while.
Dusk finally crawled across the landscape and she stood at the window staring out on the estate. Her eyesight seemed uncommonly good and she could see all the way to the trees. It made her think of her dreams, of the white wolf, of howls breaking the silence of the night. Of the feral wolf and its sharp teeth. The waxing moon was low in the sky, pale and almost translucent. It wouldn’t give off much light tonight, but soon it would be full - its large white belly casting silver over the earth. Her heart lurched thinking of how it would look, high and bright in the sky. Her stomach growled ferociously, pulling her from her thoughts. She was dreadfully hungry, but wasn’t sure she was ready to leave the quiet sanctuary of her room, her den, and venture out into the household. She’d eaten the biscuits Alice had brought, but they’d barely taken the edge off her hunger and she felt hollow and acidic inside. Elinore changed into her nightgown and lay back down on her bed, getting under the covers. She wouldn’t die of missing a few meals. Although, she could hardly remember being so hungry in her life. Mrs. Davenport knocked on her door again, indicating she was leaving some tea at the door for Elinore, urging her to have some to help her sleep. Elinore was too afraid to open the door, imagining that all of Ravenwood would wait outside to look upon her with sad, pitying eyes.
She dozed again - a light, fitful sleep that wasn’t deep enough for dreams nor for the seamless passing of time that came with a good night’s slumber. She was aware of the night rolling on, aware of the darkening of her room, of the fact that she had no candle and no fire lit. She wasn’t cold, though she should have been. Her stomach still roiled and rumbled with hunger and she curled in on herself. It was probably safe enough now, with the entire household asleep, for her to sneak into the kitchen and find some food. Mrs. Thistlewaite wouldn’t mind. Slipping out of bed, she donned her housecoat and crept to her door, as though even the soft sounds of her footsteps might alert someone who was still up and she should be pounced on in the dark.
Her door opened quietly and she peered out in the hallway. There were some candles still lit, burning low, and Elinore found she could see her way well enough. She grabbed a candle from a sconce and used it to light her way. Her feet moved lightly across the floor, nearly silent. Knowing Ravenwood as she did now, she easily found her way to the kitchen and paused, not sure where she should start looking for food. She sniffed the air and could smell some kind of stew and vegetables - tonight’s dinner. She did not know where the leftovers would be kept, if there were any. Just thinking about it made her mouth water. She set the candle down on the wooden counter top and rummaged around the kitchen. She nearly squealed in victory when she found a stone pot with a heavy lid in the icebox and inside found several rolls stuffed with meat and some butter. Probably left-over luncheon sandwiches. Though she heartily wished for some of the stew she could smell, she was happy enough with her found treasures. She ate three of them quickly, feeling the gnawing, sharp hunger abate after the third sandwich. She took a fourth and then paused before snatching a fifth. Mrs. Thistlewaite would no doubt wonder what had happened to them, but surely Elinore couldn’t be the only food thief in the manor. If anyone caught trouble for it, Elinore would speak up and simply say she felt better later on at night and came down to eat. It was the truth after all.
Grabbing her candle again, Elinore ate the fourth biscuit on her way out of the kitchen and started nibbling on the fifth as she made her way down the hallway, intent on heading back to her room. She stopped in front of the large double doors of the library. She wasn’t very tired, having slept for some of the day and been without a walk outside. Perhaps she could pop in and grab a book. She thought longingly of the new book Caleb sent her, but even the thought of the book made her feel embarrassed again. Maybe she could take some parchment and an inkwell to work on her writing. She finished off the fifth biscuit and entered the library, brushing her hand off on her housecoat as she did. There was a fire burning low in the fireplace, long forgotten. One of the footmen made sure there was always one burning for Elinore as she spent quite a bit of time in the room. The room was pleasantly warm as always, and she headed immediately to the shelves, holding her candle up to the spines of the book, searching for a title that would occupy her mind.
“Elinore.”
She dropped her candle and the flame was extinguished as it fell to the floor. She spun around and in the half-light saw Caleb rising from the desk. His hair was mussed and she wondered for a moment if he’d been waiting for her, but then realized that was impossible. It wasn’t as though she had a habit of coming to the library late at night. Seeing one of his ledgers spread out on the desk, she surmised he must have been working late, probably burying his fingers in his soft hair while he did. She backed up at bit, feeling nervous and anxious as he came toward her. Her eyes darted to the door and when she looked back at him, he saw his do the same, no doubt wondering if she would dart past him like she did this morning. God, had it only been this morning? He seemed to turn his body slightly to the side, as though preparing to block her from an escape. She straightened her shoulders. She was an adult and needed to apologize. She had made a dreadful, mortifying mistake, but she would not die from it. No matter how much she wished she might.
“I…” Elinore began, licking her lips nervously. Caleb’s eyes tracked the movement, flickering down and then back up as he came closer. He stood before her now and she raised her chin. “I apologize. For this morning. And how I… attacked you. It was very rash and inappropriate of me and I’m heartily sorry for making you uncomfortable. I will not do it again.”
Elinore fisted the fabric of her housecoat, trying to keep her hands still. There. She’d done it. She would remain in the library until Caleb either accepted her apology or indicated that he could not. Her heart sank at the thought, but she would accept his decision and hoped they could still be cordial to one another. She would not run off again. She owed him the courtesy of waiting for his response.
He took another step forward and was very much in her space now. Had the bookcase not been against her back, she would have moved away. Or perhaps not. There was something very heady about his nearness. Elinore was taller than most of her female friends, but not as tall as Caleb. She had to tilt her head up to look at him. She didn’t think she’d ever been so close to a man in her life, other than her father, and
there was certainly nothing paternal about the feelings she had toward Caleb. She was normally able to see the bright, clear color of his eyes, but in the dark of the library, with only the low light of the fireplace and the candle that he’d had burning on the desk, she couldn’t make them out. They seemed quite dark, as though they had no color at all and were only pupils. He moved impossibly closer still. Good Lord, she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath though she’d hardly been doing anything of a physical nature. One of his hands came to rest on the bookshelf beside her head and she turned slightly to look it, letting her eyes travel down the length of his forearm, where his shirt was folded up to the elbow. She swallowed, her eyes flickering up to him again. His other hand came up and cupped her jaw and her heart stuttered. Even if the bookshelf had not been behind her, a thousand horses could not have persuaded her to move at this moment. His thumb brushed against the soft skin of her cheek and her breath hitched in her lungs and a … delicious feeling coiled in her belly. Caleb bent his head down and Elinore froze, not wanting to move and break the moment.
“You surprised me this morning.” His words were quiet. So quiet, she would not have heard them had he not been as close as he was.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“I did not say it was unwelcome. Only surprising. I had not thought… or hoped that…”
Her eyes followed his lips as they moved closer to her face, until she was sure she must be cross-eyed and only then did she close them so she could focus on feeling as his lips touched hers.
Caleb’s lips were hot - hotter than she remembered from this morning. Hotter than she thought they could be. Her upper lip slotted between both of his and she exhaled a stuttering breath through her nose. She let go of her housecoat and reached out, finding his shoulders. They were hard under her palms and she loved the feel of them, the heat of them. Elinore swayed her body forward, wanting to press it up against his and when she did, he gasped. A thrill rushed through her at the sound. She’d done that. She’d made his breath catch. His one hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. She needed him so much closer. His other hand was around her waist, at the dip of the small of her back, pushing her body toward him. She felt his tongue lick at the seam of her lips and she immediately opened her mouth, wanting to do the same to him. His tongue swept inside her mouth, hot and slick. It was the most amazing, most sinful thing she’d ever felt. Without warning, he hefted her up against his body, closer, her feet lifting off the ground as he crushed her to him and she thought the world was spinning, but it was her. Caleb was spinning her, away from the shelves, moving them. She didn’t know where. She didn’t care. He felt strong and powerful under her hands. She licked into his mouth, mimicking what he’d done to her and the way he groaned when she did it made her feel strong and powerful in turn. She gasped for breath and licked into his mouth again and his hand slid down her flank and underneath her thigh, canting it up, hitching the fabric of her nightgown with it. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world to wrap her legs around his waist.
Ravenwood Page 20
