“I don’t worry enough,” Thomas said with a sigh.
Emily laughed, and set off to the other end of the library, choosing to end the discussion. Talks of marriage always made her feel uncomfortable. The thought of romance and love seemed to fill the heads of all other women her age. As for Emily herself, all she wanted out of life was a comfortable fire, a cozy chair, and a good book to read. Perhaps, like her brother, she was meant to be alone forever.
She looked up and shook her head impatiently. Thomas had been adamant when he warned her not to climb up these shelves, but the earl’s men might take forever to arrive, and she was perfectly capable of climbing up a ladder.
She threw back her hair over her shoulder, gripped the rungs of the ladder, and began to ascend, coughing a little as dust flew up around her. She passed shelf after shelf and finally reached the top. A row of beautiful, leather bound books awaited her. She opened one, balancing herself quickly, and took a deep breath. The smell of old books was nothing short of divine, she thought to herself. A mix of leather and ink, with the faintest hint of oils.
“I made it clear, I would be sending men to do that.” A deep voice said from below.
“Oh!” With a start, Emily turned around, completely losing her balance. The ladder shook, and as she trembled, the book fell with a tremendous crash to the floor. Looking down made her dizzy for a second, and this caused the ladder to shake even more.
“Steady!” Said a voice from below. “I’ve got the ladder. Come down quickly.”
But as she stepped down, a crack echoed around the library as the rung beneath her foot broke. With a weak cry, Emily found herself slipping and sliding down, losing all control.
Then, she was safe in two strong arms, and looking up into the face of a Viking. Undone by the sudden events, she fainted. The last image she took with her was the man who had caught her. He had two dark eyes burrowing into hers, and a great golden beard that hid his face more effectively than a mask.
Chapter 2
The Earl At Last
S he found herself coming to seconds later, as the man gently shook her shoulder. Thomas came running up to them, clutching his pen in one hand. “What happened! Emily!”
But Emily’s eyes remained locked with those of the earl’s. For a long moment, her heart beat like that of a bird’s, faster than she believed possible. Somehow, his steadiness calmed her and helped her take one deep breath after another.
“She fell.” The earl said, mincing his words. “I’d like to ask what she was doing up there in the first place, Claymore.”
“I... I told her not to climb these ladders!”
“I take it you didn’t show her my letter, where I’ve expressly stated that these ladders are dangerous?” The earl asked.
“He did,” Emily said, feeling ashamed. “It’s my oversight, not his.”
“Well, perhaps next time, if you have a brain under all that beautiful hair of yours, you will use it.” The earl said.
Absurdly hurt, Emily replied, “It was an accident.”
“An accident that could have killed you. I’d rather not have any deaths this summer.” The earl said. “Is that clear?”
“You can leave me be, now,” Emily said, a little bitterly.
“Is that clear?” He repeated his voice stern.
“Yes,” she said. It was a little awkward that she was still in his arms. Improper, almost. Yet, he had saved her life, and the look he gave her had no impropriety in it. All she saw was impatience and the smoldering fire of anger.
“Not much damage done, fortunately,” Thomas said apologetically as the earl helped her up. Emily shuddered at the thought that she could have caused the shelves to topple; that might have done considerable damage indeed.
“I’m not so sure.” The earl said, and his voice was a little softer. “Are you alright, My Lady?”
“I’m rather disheveled, but I'm fine.” She said although it wasn’t the truth. She was far from fine. She was thoroughly humiliated, and only wanted to curl up in bed and put a blanket over her head. What a way to meet him! What he must think of her! He had been so rude, too, implying that she had no common sense. The more she thought about it, the angrier she began to feel. It wasn’t really her fault, was it? It could have happened to anyone. If anything, it was a good thing that it had not occurred to a more heavyset man, who might well have hurt himself badly in the fall. Worse yet, what if it had happened to Thomas? The earl might be well built enough that he could save her, but she doubted he could have caught Thomas.
“What are you thinking?” The earl asked, taking her off guard.
“Only that I am glad it was me, and not a man who fell.” She said. “Your strong arms might not have been able to bear the weight.”
For one moment, she wished she could take back her words for she realized how ridiculous she sounded. Then, the earl threw back his head and let out a great roar of laughter. Soon, Thomas joined in, and then, irresistibly drawn by him, Emily found herself laughing too.
Moving away from him, she picked up the book that she had accidentally thrown down. It was in bad shape now, and a page had even torn loose. Carefully, without letting her brother or the earl see, she folded it and put it in her pocket, hoping that she could restore the book to a better condition later.
“I beg your pardon.” The earl said finally. “I was unable to meet you before this, but I came down to invite you to dinner tonight. One of my father’s oldest friends and his children will be joining us too.”
“Oh, no, Murgatroyd’s been the absolute pinnacle of hospitality.” Thomas demurred. “But we were wondering about... that is, we were wondering when we’d see your lordship.”
“I’m not much of a sight.” The earl said.
Emily begged to disagree, standing a full head above her brother, the earl was something to behold. Her first thought was that he had Viking blood in him. There was a broadness to his shoulders that made her think of knights. If she remembered correctly, in fact, his family had won their title during the crusades. His full beard added to his look, and though it hid a significant part of his face, she could not but help thinking he must be a very handsome man. He had a sharp nose, a pleasingly broad forehead and two piercing, almond shaped eyes.
“Is the restoration coming along well?” The earl asked Thomas.
“We’re making progress, Your Lordship,” Thomas said. “Though I calculate that it will take me the better part of a month to fully organize it.”
“Take your time.” The earl said. “There is no rush, and if you ever find yourself in need of better company than I provide, you are free to order the coach and head to the village for a day or two.”
“You are most generous, your lordship.” Thomas said, “But my sister and I prefer to work as quickly as possible.”
“She assists you?” The earl asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Does she not complain?”
“Why would I complain?” Emily asked.
“A young lady such as yourself.” The earl said. “Would surely prefer to be in the company of merrier men than us.” There was a hint of contempt in his voice and Emily found herself wincing at it. What had she done to make him dislike her? Or was she imagining it? Perhaps his contempt was only towards people who preferred merry-making? Which was, in her mind, rather irrational of him. People should be allowed to do as they please, she had always thought, with no judgment attached to their preferences.
“I prefer the company of good men to that of merry men.” She said. “Yet I’ve found that an easy smile is often a signal that the heart is open and kind.”
“Is that so?” The earl asked. “I think that a simple smile is a sign that the heart beneath is calculating and full of greed. But perhaps I have seen far more darkness in the world than you have.”
She resented this statement. “Perhaps we only see in others that which we have hidden within ourselves,” she replied. Thomas looked at her with disbelief, and she instantly regretted saying it. Sh
e was respectively rude to their host, she knew, but her only defense was that he had started the discussion.
The earl threw back his shoulders and glared down at her. She looked at him without blinking, her jaw set.
“Very well.” The earl said. “I have no doubt that you will enjoy the company tonight and since you are in need of merry-men, Cecil Eagleton and his sister Fiona are both mischievous and easy to entertain.”
“Ah, Cecil Eagleton?” Thomas perked up. “The son of Marquis Finch Eagleton?”
“That is correct.” The earl nodded.
“He is only a few years older than Emily, is he not?” Thomas asked. “I believe his twin sister is too?”
The earl’s eyebrow raised by a single centimeter and Emily found herself thoroughly embarrassed. How typical of Thomas to be so indiscreet; his thoughts were obvious both to the earl and to herself. He was trying to be a matchmaker. Although what interest a Marquis’ son could possibly have in the destitute daughter of a poor country squire, Emily could not say. Thomas had high hopes of her being married off to a wealthy family and yet Emily knew that it would take a lot more than riches to tempt her. She wanted a man of honor and intelligence. Unfortunately, it would take a lot more than what she possessed to attract the kind of man Thomas wanted her to marry. Invariably, most men wanted a woman of beauty and wealth.
Emily was humble, but she’d been called beautiful enough times and by enough men to know that she fulfilled at least one of the two criteria. However, she so lacked in the second, that she doubted anyone would be able to look past it. Nevertheless, for her brother’s sake, she’d endeavor to be amiable to the marquis; nicer, at least, than she had been to the earl.
Chapter 3
Dinner And New Friends
“A sumptuous feast!” The marquis declared. “If I may say so myself. The gloom of your castle is almost forgotten, Damien.”
“Father!” His beautiful daughter, the statuesque beauty Fiona, pursed her lips in disapproval. Her father, who was making his way through his fifth glass of wine, didn’t seem to care. She snuck a look at the earl, who was sitting at the head of the table, his face blank.
“It’s the truth, I tell you.” The marquis said. “Once, this house had lights and laughter. I remember a party your father threw, Damien. Your mother was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and what a hostess she was! She could make the most battle-hardened warrior feel like an utterly cultured man and the most ivory-tower academic feel like a battle-hardened warrior. They don’t make women like her anymore.”
“I’m sure that they do.” The earl said. “I’ve heard Fiona has hosted a few balls that were the talk of all London for months after.”
Fiona blushed. “Oh, it was nothing.” She said.
“Sickening, aren’t they?” Cecil whispered to Emily.
“Excuse me?” Emily, who had been politely sipping her cream of mushroom soup, didn’t know how to react. Since he had entered the room, she’d been very aware of Cecil Eagleton. Like his sister Fiona, he was blessed with almost unearthly good looks. She’d heard from Thomas that Cecil had once dressed up as a Greek statue at Oxford, and been mistaken for it by the professor of history.
Indeed, with his dark hair, triangular face, and sharp green eyes, Cecil was a sight that would please any artist or any woman. His clothes too were carefully selected. He was dressed in a bottle green tailcoat, with tan pantaloons and a beautifully embroidered navy blue waistcoat. Gold rings adorned his fingers, and his hair was puffed into a pompadour. In contrast to the dandy, the earl looked almost austere. His gray waistcoat, dark suit, and white cravat were undoubtedly cut by London’s best tailors, but apart from the sweeping blonde hair on his head, there was not a hint of color upon him.
What made him this way? Emily wondered. There was an air of mystery about him, always. Even with Cecil present, Emily’s eyes were drawn again and again to the earl’s fine form.
Since that morning, when he had rescued her from her fall and then been rude to her, Emily had replayed the event over and over in her mind. She tried to force herself to stop, but her mind would invariably wander to how she felt with his strong hands wrapped around her.
“They’ll soon be engaged, no doubt,” Cecil said, trying to gain her attention again. “My sister is determined to tame the beast.”
“The beast?” Emily whispered back, her curiosity aroused.
“Then you haven’t heard the tales?” Cecil smiled. Emily knew he was trying to tempt her into a flirtation. In her time with her aunt, more than one man had made various attempts to attract her favor. Yet she hated games of that kind. Love, in Emily’s mind, was meant to be simple and direct. If you could not be honest with a man about how you felt and if you had to play insufferable games before he would fall in love, it would be insincere.
Yet she smiled, and said, “What can you tell me, My Lord?”
“Enough to arouse your curiosity, but not enough to quench it, perhaps,” Cecil said. His gaze wandered from her lips to the hollow of her throat. “No, I think your thirst would need something else.”
Emily drew back, rather shocked by the double meaning of his words. But not before an angry voice said, “Perhaps the lady would prefer another glass of wine for her… thirst?”
She looked up to find the earl glaring at her. His eyes, which she had thought of as dark, seemed almost golden under the candlelight. A fire burned within them. Yet what had she done to deserve his anger? She felt trepidation as she answered, “I thank you, My Lord, but I am content with water for now.”
Cecil smiled at her in a manner that reminded her of the lizards in the back garden at home. His eyes, she thought, were the problem. Cecil was, by all conventional standards, a rather handsome man. Yet his eyes had a flat look on them, almost as if they were shiny buttons sewed onto his face. The earl’s on the other hand… the earl’s eyes were somehow profound and hypnotic; warm, yet dangerous, like a wildfire. She shook the thought out of her brain. The marquis was right; the gloom of the house was apparently playing with her mind.
It was a foggy day today, and especially cold. Even the fire roaring in the fireplace could not take the chill out of the air. The dining room, though decorated well, was almost austere in the sense that not a single extra line or curve was permitted into it. The cutlery was pure silver, and the candle stands gilded bronze. Yet there was no extra decor to them, no flourish of any kind. They, like their master, seemed to care only about function, and not about form.
“Terrible weather, is it not?” Thomas asked, clearing his throat as he made his first foray into the conversation.
The marquis looked at him as if he were a piece of furniture that had suddenly spoken. Thomas colored and looked down at his plate.
“It’s always like this at Highmere.” Fiona laughed. “Some say that the castle should be renamed Fogmere.”
“The nearby cliffs bring in air from the sea.” The earl said politely. “We often see fog in the evenings, even on sunny days, as a result.”
“Oh, it has nothing to do with the cliffs.” Cecil said with a laugh, “And everything to do with a certain curse.”
“Cecil!” The marquis’ whiskers seemed to bristle as he spoke sharply to his son. “There will be no such talk at the dinner table!”
“I’m sure everyone here has heard of it,” Cecil said. “Why, I’m sure everyone here has it on their mind right now.”
“I haven’t,” Emily said. “Heard of it, I mean.”
“I prefer to shelter my sister from tales like these,” Thomas said.
Ignoring him, Cecil went on. “It was a night just like this, was it not, Earl Bradshaw?” Cecil was openly taunting the earl, pushing him.
The earl’s face remained passive. “Was it?” He asked. “The memory seems to be eluding me, Cecil. There is one memory that comes clearly, though. Remember that time when Cecil tried to climb the pine tree on your estate, Finch?”
The marquis roared with laughter.
“How could I forget!”
Cecil’s face twisted into rage. He controlled himself almost immediately, putting a veneer of disinterest but Emily had seen the look and seen the hot anger inside him. What was going on? What secrets was the earl hiding from them, and why did Cecil hate him so?
“Cecil slipped, and was dangling over the ground by the seat of his britches.” The marquis continued. “He was only fifteen, but he should have known better. The earl saved him, thankfully.”
“Saving people seems to be a habit of yours,” Emily remarked with a smile. “You saved my life too, earlier today.”
“Well now, how brave!” Fiona, sitting on the other side of the earl, put her hand on his forearm, almost possessively, to draw his interest back to her. “Tell me more, Earl Bradshaw.”
“It was nothing.” The earl said. He looked uncomfortable at being painted a hero, Emily realized. Even though he deserved to be. The sight of Fiona’s fine, long-fingered hand on the earl’s forearm rankled for some reason, but then she remembered Cecil’s words that his sister was determined to tame the man they called the beast. Looking at the earl, there was little doubt in Emily’s mind why he was called that. The man was massive! Even sitting at the table, he seemed to tower over the others, and his strong, broad shoulders emphasized the strength he obviously possessed. In the candlelight, Emily could see a network of scars making their way from under his beard, to the edge of his eye, and then cutting through the eyebrow above. How had she not noticed them before? She had clearly been far too distracted by him.
“The earl’s a hero, no doubt.” The marquis said. “Why, if you’d heard tales about his time in the navy, you’d know...”
“Let’s have the next course.” The earl had no intention of listening to the marquis singing his praises. He clapped his hands, and Murgatroyd, the butler, reappeared with lamb chops on a bed of rosemary potatoes.
For a short while, the company was silent as they savored the taste of tender chops and the fresh steamed vegetables that accompanied them. The mashed potatoes themselves were creamy and soft, with little bursts of flavor that perfectly complemented the meat.
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