THE LEGEND OF NIMWAY HALL: 1888 - ALEXANDRA

by Victoria Alexander

  “Wilcox is here?”

  “Yes, my lord. Lady Brynmore sent for him.”

  Robert frowned. “But he’s supposed to be working at Brynmore.”

  “I believe Lady Brynmore might have some tasks for him here, my lord.”

  “Tasks for him …” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Damnation, Pearson, she’s stealing my crew.” He gulped down his coffee and bolted from the room, sprinting through the house and out the front door.

  Alex stood talking to Wilcox on the front drive near the garden where Robert had first seen her. She had a notebook in one hand while she gestured with the other, obviously telling the villager what she wanted. He hurried to join them.

  “Good day, my lord.” Wilcox tipped his hat. “And my heartiest congratulations.”

  “Thank you, Wilcox. I’m a lucky man.” He forced a cordial smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m just about to get my men to work, sir. As per”—Wilcox cleared his throat—“Lady Brynmore’s directions.”

  Robert slanted a quick glance at Alex, who smiled in a distinctly smug manner.

  Wilcox’s gaze slid from Robert to Alex and back. “I’d best get to it.” He shook his head. “She has a very long list.”

  “There’s a lot to be done,” she said brightly.

  Wilcox shot Robert a look that was part support and part sympathy. “My lord.” He nodded and headed toward two nearby wagons, where men were unloading building materials—wood and slate and who knew what else.

  “Is that mine?” Robert waved at the wagons.

  “I believe the correct term now is ours.” Alex smiled pleasantly. “Dear.”

  “That’s from Brynmore, isn’t it?”

  “Where else?”

  “You stole materials intended for work at Brynmore!” Indignation rang in his voice.

  “Nonsense. I didn’t steal anything. I appropriated supplies suitable for the work that needs to be done here.”

  “What happens to Brynmore?”

  “Nothing at the moment.” She cast him a chastising look as if he were a small child. “Priorities, Robert. Time is of the essence, remember? You said so yourself. We have barely six weeks now until my parents’ arrival, which leaves us no time to wait for additional supplies. It seemed prudent to use what was readily available. We are on a very tight time schedule. Brynmore can wait, can’t it?”

  She had him there. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “I thought you’d see it my way.” She beamed at him as if he were the most brilliant man in the world. He liked it and didn’t trust it for a minute. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Brynmore.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  She ignored the sarcastic note in his voice. “I’m simply wondering if you wish to continue with the restoration of the manor.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to continue?” he asked slowly.

  “You will be living here at Nimway Hall, which makes the manor, well, unnecessary.”

  He chose his words carefully. “What would you suggest we do with it?”

  “If we tore it down, we could use the property for—”

  “Tear it down?” He stared. “It’s practically rebuilt at this point.” Which was something of an exaggeration, but Wilcox and his crew had made a little progress.

  “Nonsense, you’ve hardly started.”

  “At least the roof has been repaired.”

  “As will Nimway’s shortly, Robert dear.” Robert dear? That was the second time she’d called him dear. What was she up to? “I’m simply trying to be practical.” She laid her hand on his arm, and a jolt of awareness shot through him. He tried to ignore the shocking sensation of her deliberate touch, the warmth of her hand through the layers of fabric, the distracting idea of how her fingers would feel on his bare skin. His jaw tightened. Ignoring her touch was damn near impossible. “I would hate to see you squander your money.”

  “I assure you I have more than enough money to finish work on Brynmore, take care of the needs of Nimway, and do anything else I care to do.”

  “I thought so, but it is nice to have confirmation.”

  “Worried about the bargain you made?”

  She laughed. “Not at all. Indeed, I may well have gotten the best of it. Why, aside from your fortune, you really are an excellent catch. You’re titled, you have property, you don’t seem especially stupid for the most part, although I may have to reserve judgment in that respect. We shall see, won’t we?”

  He stared.

  “You’re not unattractive—in truth, you’re rather handsome—and I frequently find you most amusing. Granted, your taste in literature is questionable, but that’s a minor flaw and can certainly be worked on.” She tilted her head and considered him. “No, all in all, I think I’ve done quite well for myself. I now believe I am rather lucky that you wandered into my life. After all, I could have done much worse.”

  His mouth dropped open. That admission was the last thing he expected. Ever.

  “Goodness, Robert.” She reached out, placed two fingers beneath his chin, and gazed into his eyes, gently closing his mouth. “Wouldn’t want to attract flies, dear.”

  Dear? Again?

  Her hand dropped to her side, and her eyes widened innocently. “Were you going to say something?”

  “Uh.” What did he want to say? He knew a moment ago. The clattering of lumber being unloaded caught his attention and brought his thoughts back to the subject at hand. “Brynmore is every bit as much my heritage as Nimway is yours. As such, I intend to see it restored to its former glory.”

  “I had no idea you were so, oh …” She gazed up at him, her green eyes endless and filled with unspoken promises. “Passionate about it.”

  He swallowed hard.

  “After all, you didn’t know anything at all about your legacy in England until recently.” She shrugged. “I must say I’m surprised. I didn’t expect you to be concerned about your English heritage. You are American after all. But I for one think it’s splendid.”

  He cleared his throat. “You do?”

  “Oh my, yes. I read somewhere that every man should have a hobby. Brynmore can be yours.”

  “I don’t consider my family heritage a hobby.” He huffed.

  “No, of course not. I misspoke.” She blithely waved off his comment. “Why, Brynmore is every bit as important to you as Nimway is to me. In the spirit of cooperation and partnership—”

  “Partnership?”

  “Our marriage, dear. Remember?”

  Dear number four.

  “What else is a marriage but a merger and a partnership?” She smiled. “Your words, I believe. Don’t you remember?”

  “Vaguely.” God knew what else he’d said since he’d met her that she could now use against him.

  “As I was saying, in the spirit of partnership and taking into account your dedication to Brynmore, I shall instruct Mr. Wilcox to leave a few of his men to continue work at the manor while the rest begin repairs here.” She smiled, her eyelashes fluttering in a flirtatious manner he’d never suspected of her. She rested her hand on his chest and met his gaze.

  His heart thudded beneath her touch.

  “Does that seem fair to you?”

  He nodded. “I suppose.”

  “Excellent.” She started to leave then turned back. “Oh, Mr. Hamill arrived some time ago, but I thought it best not to wake you. I wasn’t sure how well you’d slept given the storm last night.”

  “My ceiling leaks,” he muttered.

  “That should be fixed soon enough. He’s waiting for you in the library.” She smiled and headed toward Wilcox.

  Robert watched her for a long minute, the enticing way her hips swung with every step, the determined set of her shoulders, the slight breeze catching the strands of dark hair that escaped the knot on the top of her head to dance as if they had a life of their own. He blew a frustrated breath then started back toward the house, his trousers uncomfortably tighter than they’d be
en a few minutes ago.

  What was Alex up to with her subtly flirtatious manner? A manner he’d never seen before, punctuated by her enticing glances and casual touches. She’d never done that before either. And she’d certainly never called him dear.

  Damn it to hell. He stopped in mid-step. He should have known she wouldn’t accept his refusal to share her bed last night without a fight. The Dragon of Nimway Hall was trying to seduce him!

  Well, wasn’t that an unexpected turn of events? He grinned and continued toward the hall. It was going to be fun to see just how far she’d go. There was nothing that made someone want something more than not being able to have it. Of course, it was going to be sheer torture for him. But he’d meant it when he’d said he didn’t want to just get on with it. He wanted her in his bed because she wanted to be there. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.

  He wanted her to love him.

  And he would wait until she did.

  Even if it killed him.

  Robert had always prided himself on his resolve, the strength of his character, his unflinching tenacity in pursuit of a goal. But this game he played with Alex was stretching his determination to intolerable limits. Even worse, for the first time in his life, he hadn’t the vaguest idea what he was doing. How did one get one’s wife to fall in love with him?

  A week after she’d suggested they get it over with, he accepted that this relationship was going to be far more difficult than he had imagined. It made no sense. Women fell in love with him all the time. Or perhaps that was simply lust. He and Alex never discussed her offer, but it was in every look she gave him, every brush of her hand, the very line of her body. And there were endless smoldering looks, countless lingering touches of her fingers, allegedly to make a point, and frequent moments when she leaned so close there was scarcely any space between them at all and her scent—the faintest hint of something at once spicy and floral—would waft around him and weaken his knees and tighten his stomach. It was all he could do not to take what she offered. To pull her into his arms and rain kisses on her lovely throat and delectable shoulders and those lips. Lips that begged to be kissed, to be tasted and plundered. But everything inside him said that would be a mistake. Besides, he had time. They had the rest of their lives together, even if there were frequently moments when he wondered how long he’d survive.

  On his part, Robert was doing everything he could think of to win her heart. Never having attempted such a thing before, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. Ordinary methods of working his way into her affections probably wouldn’t succeed with Alex, but he figured they couldn’t hurt. Every morning, he presented her with flowers—admittedly, they were from Nimway’s gardens, but he picked them himself. He asked advice about managing an estate and complimented her on her handling of Nimway, and she did seem to appreciate that. He listened to her plans for Nimway as well as her ideas for Brynmore—the woman liked being listened to—and he continued to be impressed by her expertise. Late in the night, when he couldn’t sleep, he wrote poems for her, or rather, he tried. But it seemed the more he wrote, the more his writing reflected his dreams. He wasn’t sure how that happened, but he was certain he couldn’t let her or anyone read his efforts at poetry. So each and every attempt went straight into the fire. He went out of his way to be thoughtful and attentive, a good friend, a fine companion, and an excellent husband. It wasn’t easy given what little sleep he managed was broken by his dreams of her. He made every effort not to be irritated and surly. But then, frustration did that to a man.

  Alex was busy overseeing the work around Nimway. Repairs were underway on the outbuildings and the roof of the hall. Robert threw himself into his own work, meeting with employees in from London or barricading himself in the library with Hamill. He was at Brynmore every day and frequently took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves to help his two remaining workers—Samuel Bridges and Ralph McGill—with whatever task they were engaged in. As he was Lord Brynmore, they couldn’t refuse his help, but it took several days before they relaxed around him. His being American and therefore not a legitimate lord in their eyes helped.

  And the dreams continued—unrelenting and intense, more detailed and real than any he’d ever had. As if their very purpose was to draw him to her. Which was completely absurd and could probably be attributed to his near-constant state of arousal.

  By the end of the second week, Robert had taken to soaking in cool baths in the evening and taking long brisk walks around the property before breakfast. He had an excess of energy that only exercise would abate, and it really was best not to have excessive conversation with anyone until he was finished. He was more and more churlish every morning.

  He stepped out of the front entry and breathed in the invigorating country air.

  His family had a house on the shore, but he’d never lived in the country for any length of time. Mornings were especially delightful. If nothing else, roaming around the estate by himself allowed him to explore the grounds. Alex might believe the magic here was gone, but he would have to disagree. The splendor created in the English countryside by Mother Nature, in the rolling hills and the sparkling lake, was nothing short of enchanting. Nimway was a balm for the soul. He found the lake down the hill from the hall especially soothing and started toward it.

  “Another walk this morning, Robert?” Alex fell into step beside him.

  He bit back a sharp reply and forced a pleasant smile. “Nimway is beautiful at this time of day.”

  “Nimway is always beautiful.” She paused. “May I join you?”

  No! “Please do.”

  “You needn’t sound so afraid.”

  “You are a formidable opponent, but I assure you I am not afraid.”

  “You’ve been avoiding being alone with me.”

  He scoffed. “I’m alone with you all the time.”

  “Do you think I’m going to throw myself at you if given the opportunity?” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Push you to the ground and have my way with you?”

  He flashed her a wicked grin. “One can only hope.”

  She stopped and glared at him. “It drives me mad when you do that.”

  “Do what?” he asked innocently.

  “Say things like that, suggestive things, that you obviously don’t mean.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I don’t mean them?”

  “Short of sneaking into your bed when you’re asleep, I’ve given you every opportunity, and you’ve yet to seize it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  He chuckled. “More than I can say.”

  “There you go again.” She huffed. “I believe you are incorrigible and cannot help yourself. I blame you being half American.”

  “On the contrary,” he said smoothly. “I am entirely American.”

  “Even worse. However”—she squared her shoulders—“I have made a decision.”

  He tensed. “Oh?”

  “Our original agreement was that we would share a bed when we both thought the time was right.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Although really, I did think that condition was more for me than for you.”

  “Did you?”

  “Well, you’re a man. I simply assumed that the first thing you’d want was relations. Apparently, I was wrong.” Her brows drew together. “But I’ve never been a good judge of men.”

  “I’m glad I shattered your illusions.” He paused. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m trying to say I wish to go back to what we agreed on.” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying my best to seduce you, and it doesn’t seem to be working.”

  “Have you?” He arched a brow. “I haven’t noticed.”

  “Of course you’ve noticed. However, I withdraw my offer about getting on with it. The right time will be a mutual decision as we originally decided. Agreed?”

  He bit back a grin and shrugged. “I haven’t given it a second thought one w
ay or the other.

  She scoffed. “Liar.”

  “Alex.” Without thinking, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. “All I think about is you.” The confession came of its own accord, as if a dam had at last broken. He gazed into her green eyes. “But I don’t want to get on with it.” He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss as hard and fast as the beating of his heart, then raised his head and stared down at her. “Nor do I want to get it over with.”

  “Oh.” A breathless note sounded in her voice. She stared up at him. “My.”

  He grinned. “Oh my?”

  “Well. That was …” Her eyes were slightly glazed, and a flush colored her cheeks. “I have been kissed before, you know.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes, but …” She slid her arms around his neck. “Never like this.” Her lips pressed to his.

  For a moment, he could do nothing but savor the sensation of her mouth against his. She tasted of summer and magic and forever. Her body pressed to his, molded against him as if they were made one for the other. His heart thudded in his chest, and his stomach tightened, and time itself skidded to a stop.

  After a moment or a lifetime, Alex pulled away and stepped out of his arms. She offered him a bright smile, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, but the faint tremor in her voice said otherwise. “Shall we continue our walk?”

  “I think we should talk.” It was apparently his turn to be breathless.

  She tilted her head and studied him. “You were headed toward the lake, weren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s the perfect place to talk. Come along. I’ll show you my favorite spot.” She started off downhill at a brisk pace, and he paused, unable to take his eyes off her. “Be prepared, Robert. It’s special and private, something of a sanctuary, really. And it just reeks of magic,” she tossed back over her shoulder.

  The oddest thought struck him that she looked like some sort of wood nymph with her straw-colored dress billowing around her and the light catching the red in her hair—a mystical creature spun of dreams and desires. The kind of being who cast a spell over a man’s heart and refused to release it. Ever. Absurd, of course. He wasn’t enchanted.