Not to be outwitted, Eden squared her stance, stepped closer and through down her name like a gauntlet. “You invited your brother and his wife and you shunned them too.”
When he didn’t retort immediately, Eden tilted an expectant brow at him. “Well?” She invited. Still he did not speak. She imagined he was sizing her up. He shuffled his feet a bit…ahhh, he didn’t tower over her as he’d expected, she realized. She guessed him to be an inch or two above six feet, which meant he was only four or five inches taller.
“My brothers do not await an invitation to visit me.” Dominic informed her. If he dipped his head a few inches he could catch her blush-colored lips with his own hard seeking mouth. It would be so easy, so satisfying. His breath quickened a beat.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “And Kathleen is here out of necessity, as a chaperon…and doing a rather poor job of it. Where the devil is she, anyway?”
He scanned the room as if he expected his sister-in-law to burst forth from the woodwork. “How is it that you’re loose to hurl yourself off of ladders and such?”
“There is no need to be rude. She wasn’t feeling herself this morning.” Eden pulled a face and gestured to the forgotten parchment. “I was bored and thought I’d find an interesting subject to sketch. Are you going to answer my question?”
“About?” His gaze settled back on her. The expression did not waver, that she could tell. Eden felt at a distinct disadvantage not being able to see his eyes.
“What was your question about, Ms. Prescott?”
Her focus lowered, to his now shirted-chest. Again, almost involuntarily, one hand edged upward, seeking yet hesitant to try for his collar. “The scars. Were you in the military? How did you—”
“There are no scars.” He followed the path of her seeking hand with his shaded gaze.
“But I saw, just now when—”
“A trick of the light.” He dismissed it with a flippancy that annoyed her.
He must think her stupid. “You, sir, are lying.” Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of calling anyone, much less her host, a liar when she’d been snug and cosseted back in Boston. But the new, reckless, world-weary Eden possessed a streak of boldness. And she took exception to his highbrow attitude. “I know what I saw.”
“Do you, now…” The one daring brow, arched above his spectacles, was all the warning he gave. The next instant, buttons flew in all directions to join the forgotten sketching supplies scattered about, as lightening quick hands ripped the shirt open in one jerk.
There his stood, a sculptor’s flawless muse, broad chest bared to show her ripped musculature and taut enticing stomach, giving way to a beckoning spiral of hairs…Eden’s mouth dropped open. Each breath forced in and out through sheer will power. His was the body from her visions…sans one detail. There were no scars, just like he’d said. What impetus would cause her to imagine such a hideous thing? Wait, maybe…
She glazed up at his masked eyes. He seemed to read her thoughts. The shirt fell to his elbow and he turned gradually, never breaking eye contact with her until the very last moment when he dropped his head and sloped his shoulders for her inspection. With nothing to stop her, Eden approached, unbidden.
* * *
Dominic resisted the urge to bolt, and instead planted his bare feet in the rug. Seconds ticked by and he waited, wondering if she would do the one thing he both craved and feared. Ahhh…she touched him. Her gentle, jittery fingertips played along the tops of his shoulders, perhaps testing his willingness to accept the contact. Dom shuttered, savoring the pleasure of soft hands on his skin, and in the same moment trying to shut out the past pain. Her palms flattened out and slid lower, caressing his blades and lightly kneading the muscles there.
She had seen what she needed to see. He should stop her, step away. He couldn’t. Not yet. He wanted a memory to store and relive for when she was gone and he was alone again. One luminous sunrise to blot out a lifelong eclipse. He brought his head up to rest his chin on his left shoulder, as she continued to explore him.
Her hands curled, possessively, around his torso to flit over his pecs and down to his stomach. He nearly relinquished control amid the sea of mounding arousal. He must compose himself…at least enough to stop her. Impossible. His breath hitched as he felt the stirrings of a new and aching need, soon to tent his pants. No…Dominic pulled the scattered fragments of his self-control together, and stepped sharply forward out of her grasp. He jerked the linen back over his body in an ominous gesture. He did not face her, merely spoke over his shoulder in profile.
“Leave.” The word hung in the air like a noose. “Now.”
“The house?”
“My library, my…space. Never invade it again.” He spoke in clipped, warning tones.
Enthralled and confused alike by his mercurial mood, Eden stared with searching hazel eyes. “Are the doctor and your other brother allowed to visit your space?”
“You are not my brother.” He snapped, breathing several times before he spoke again. “I come here to be alone…find peace. You’re an intruder and I will treat you as such.”
“Alright.” She would go, but not before she left him with something to think about. Coming forward, she stood on her tiptoes and murmured directly in his ear. “I know that was you, Dominic…in my bath the other day.”
He stiffened.
“If you don’t want me invading your space, then stay out of mine.”
* * *
Good night! What had possessed her to say such a thing…goad him almost. What impulse propelled her to touch him…molest his person so liberally, and enjoy it so thoroughly, heaven help her. Even their verbal sparring held a certain amount of thrill and enjoyment. Dominic Ambrosi, for all his insolence, moodiness, and secrecy, proved to be by far the most interesting man Eden had ever met. And he brought out a side of herself that she never knew existed and wasn’t quite sure she liked. She perched in front of the vanity, running a brush absently through her flaxen hair. For once she was grateful her mama and papa weren’t here to witness her…make a cake of herself. Or a wanton, more like.
Another thing she just could not wrap her mind around, the scars. “I know I saw them.” They were there in the visions, well one of them anyway. In the other vision, with her and Dominic in flagrante delicto, his torso front and back had shone smooth.
“Come to think of it—” She stopped mid-stroke, replaying the entire library interlude over and over in her mind, picking up new clues with each re-do. How did he happen along just as she lost her footing? Why hadn’t her landing atop him harmed him? Winded him even? He must have entered at the very second she fell to be standing at that exact spot when she came tumbling off the ladder. Blast! Why couldn’t she think of these things at the most opportune time? Now she’d never know…no way could she bring the incident up in the future. Judging from the end of the conversation it did not appear as though he would be conversing with her again any time soon.
Chapter 8
Normally, Dominic would have shimmered to town. Cael was one of few people whose essence he could track to very specific locations. It wouldn’t do to attempt astral travel with so many wild emotions. Plus, he needed a cooling off period before he faced his brother. Otherwise Cael would notice his upheaval, and knowing him, ask questions Dominic did not want to answer or rather had no answer for. So, he instructed the coachman to saddle up one of the greys. Dominic road the beast with vigor and did not stop until he reached Southwart, a semi-seedy district south of the Thames where Cael had chosen to set himself up professionally.
The austere facade lay nettled in a square with several other fledgling trade stores, including thankfully a livery stable. Beyond the square lurked a dense wasteland of decaying riverside warehouses, intermingled with teaming slums, and the occasional pub or house of ill repute. The air writhed with a chill of eager misery, ready to swallow whatever unfortunate soul lurking near enough to tempt fate. Dockworkers, ladies of the nig
ht, beggars and pickpockets, young and old alike, filled out the canvas. Dominic abhorred the place at night, when one was rarely able to take two steps without enduring solicitations of one vice or another.
Later afternoon was settling into evening when Dominic housed his mount at the livery and strode the scant distance to his destination. Cael greeted him at the door.
“Dominic. This is a surprise.” He ushered him inside. “What brings you to town? And during the season.”
Dom shrugged, noncommittal. He took a haphazard turn about the serviceable room. Along the way, he eyed the certificates and licenses adoring otherwise bare walls, more interested in appearing nonchalant then the framed medical credentials. Cael followed him as he meandered about, until Dom stopped stalling and came to roost on the desk’s visitor chair. His brother paused, standing beside his chair. Dominic felt the all-seeing amber eyes watching him, no doubt trying to size up what had drove him from his haven in the country.
“Are you sure more pressing matters didn’t prompt this…eh, visit?”
“I’m not one of your mental cases, Cael.”
“Sorry, old habit.” He ceased the scrutiny and sat opposite him behind the folder-piled desk. “It’s just that you’re not a social butterfly. So, when you turn up here for no obvious reason and wander around my office like you need a road map to find the chair-”
Dom shifted in his seat. “Ahem, Ethan mentioned that you and Stephan had returned to town.”
“Yes, two days ago.” He confirmed with a nod. “I wondered when you did not accompany him.”
“How is Stephan?”
“Ahh…as well as can be expected.” Cael tried for a weak smile. “He is no more fond of my analyzing ways than you are.”
“There shouldn’t be any lingering problems with the University. I instructed Renfred to settle a very sizable donation on their redevelopment fund, care of the illustrious Conte Ambrosi. The Ambrosi name seems to have doubled in impact and importance since my rise to peerage. Even hermitic foreign nobles are all the rage these days.”
Frustrated hands mangled dark blonde locks. “I am more worried about how the incident is affecting Stephan. He will not discuss it.” The restless movement and bleary eyes echoed a thread of uselessness and despair. “There is an enormous amount of pain and guilt he is concealing. Too much, I fear.”
Dom frowned. Despite always being at odds with each other, he did not like to see Cael so defeated and unlike himself. “Perhaps the season will distract him.” He suggested, but he knew as soon as the meaningless words left his mouth that they were best left unsaid.
“A young man of Stephan’s intelligence and depth will not be mollified by a few dances and a tryst with some silly, round-heeled debutant.”
Cael always did wield the truth like a sword. “No, I suppose not.”
Dom stumbled awkwardly in their reversed roles. Cael did the cajoling and advice-giving and Dom shot him down. That was their long-standing routine.
“My biggest fear is that there is another cause for his guilt, something we don’t know.”
“Perhaps, I could be of service.” An idea alit his mind…of mutually beneficial design. “Ethan mentioned something before he left. About me, maybe hosting Stephan for a few days in the country. I don’t know how much good it will do. I am not one for exposition—”
“Come again?” Liquid amber eyes burned a hole in him.
“Well, don’t look so aghast.” It somehow piqued Dominic to spy his brother’s mouth hanging open. “You’re gaping for all the world like I just eloped to the Orient with a peg-legged actress.”
He blinked. “Forgive me, Dom. It’s just…never mind.” Shaking his head, he closed the book on the subject. “I’ve been meaning to visit myself. How is the patient?”
Exasperation clashed with raw desire whenever he thought of her. “Back on her feet…and too much underfoot. Ethan is delaying her leaving so you may assess her state of mind. He’s mentioned her situation, I’m sure.”
“Yes. A string of recent tragedies left her with no family.”
“Ethan and I agree. The dip in the pond amounts to a suicide attempt.”
Cael nodded, resolute. “Survivor’s guilt. It drives some to take their own lives. I have seen similar cases with patients who have lost all to scarlet fever.”
“So, she is not altogether well?”
“I’ll not know that until I speak with her first hand, but yes, there is a possibility that she still harbors unhealthy thoughts.”
“Ethan thinks she will attempt to harm herself again.” Urgency heightened Dominic’s words. “Earlier today, she threw herself off a ladder in my library.”
“You saw her jump?”
“No. I broke the fall.”
“I’ve been in your library, Dom.” Amusement flittered across Cael’s face for the first time. “Leaping from the shelves is not sufficient enough for suicide. A broken leg, perhaps.”
“Broken neck, more like.” He muttered.
“She probably just lost her balance. What was she doing there anyway?”
“Sketching, she said.” Dominic admitted, with some reluctance. “There was chalk and parchment scattered about.”
His brother shrugged. “Sounds reasonable enough.”
“Kathleen is a poor watchdog.” Dominic, eaten with a sudden agitation, stood from the chair, and paced about the office. “I cannot be everywhere at once. Ethan has run off to handhold with rheumatism-ed old biddies. I haven’t the fortitude to deal with her, Cael. You must come immediately or send Stephan.”
“She must be quite a handful.” Amused in earnest at Dominic’s harassment, Cael grinned. “I promise to drop in soon. I would have before now, but this thing with Stephan…and I’ve been looking into those two characters from that queer lecture we attended a couple of months back.”
Dominic froze. Shocked into stillness. “Why would you—”
“Greyson somehow got wind of the incident at the University. He is resourceful and well-connected. He contacted me, regarding Stephan.”
“Contacted you, how?”
“Wrangled an introduction from a mutual acquaintance at a social I attended.”
Dom scoffed. “And you wonder why I abhor cavorting in the ton.”
“He was quite polite actually.” Cael reflected. “Knew his science and seemed to want to help.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I knew little about him save for what I learned at the lecture and what he told me for himself.”
“But?” Dominic braced himself.
“I think cultivating a relationship with him could benefit Stephan. There is no predicting how his newfound capabilities are affecting his mind. And Greyson seems to have a genuine interest in severing the link between adeptness and mental instability.”
“Adeptness?”
“Greyson’s terminology. Adepts are people gifted with psychic abilities, like yourself. Adeptness is the abilities themselves. According to Greyson, control is the key to side-stepping the psychological and emotional damage that wielding such enormous amounts of psi energy inflicts on the mind.” Cael hurried on in fascinated prattle. “I also discovered rumors that he runs a very queer sort of household.”
“What of his background?” Dominic inquired, suspicious but considering. He himself ran what could be construed as a ‘queer sort of household’.
“I found nothing sordid or questionable. He’s awash in trade-wealth, with no living relatives. Savvy investments perhaps, since no apparent family business exists, here or in The States. He’s respected in the scientific arena and among the ton, with the normal sprinkling of highball enemies and well-connected friends. Several peers sponsor his research activities. And he is on the board of social reform.”
“Tell me more about this household of his.”
“I couldn’t find out much. Just that it’s a sort of haven for social outcasts…according to the rumor mill, mind you. I haven’t the chance to�
��”
“I’ve heard enough.” Dominic silenced further discussion. “As I suspected, Greyson is dangerous. He isn’t to come within a mile of Stephan.”
“Dom…”
“Stephan is intelligent, stable, and grounded in reality…if a bit volatile. His sanity is not in question, and I will not have him poked and prodded by some quack bent on giving him a complex.”
“He accidentally maimed his closest friend. He has a complex already—as do you, I might add. Is that how yours came about, a quack like Greyson or myself?” Cael again donned his analyzing mien. “You never share about your early life, Dom. Why is that?”
He sidestepped the issue like a puddle in the road. “I have lived with…adeptness—as he calls it—since adolescence and I still possess my full facilities. Stephan will adapt as I have.”
Cael grimaced. “I wouldn’t wish your method of adapting on him.”
“I am sane.” Dom countered flatly.
“And paranoid of encroaching madness.”
“A legitimate concern, considering our origins.”
“No.” Cael stood and walked around the desk so that they were eye to shaded eye. “Being concerned is not the same as living the life of an exiled monk, nor is it healthy.”
“Discretion, not exile.” Dom argued. “Protecting myself and my brothers from public ridicule and accusations of heresy—”
“By the by, how is Gabriel?” Cael made no attempt at tact or subtlety. “Did adapting serve him well?”
Cael hit his mark. Dominic’s chest caved; the words impacted him like an arrow to the heart.
Chapter 9
For an instant, the image staring back at her from the mirror was not her own, but that of a beguilingly beautiful woman with obsidian eyes and a glossy mane of hair framing the visage. Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile as if she enjoyed a jest at Eden’s expense. Eden sighed, another nameless specter to taunt her. The lady in the mirror winkled away into her own frowning image.
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