“Do you see the ravens?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I had a devil of a time finding someone to sculpt them. Seems they’re not at all the thing.”
“Whoever did them did a marvelous job.”
“Do you think?”
And Elizabeth did. It was all so beautiful. There were at least four or five arches on each side of her, the only break in them near the castle’s front door. It was to those massive double doors that Lucien led her.
“The doors are original.”
They looked it, the ancient oak reinforced with steel and smooth-topped bolts. And then the duke showed her inside, and she forgot all about archways and ravens.
If the outside was stunning, the inside was breathtaking. There, too, they had used the Roman influence. Door moldings and casings were scrolled and rounded. Black-and-white marble crisscrossed the floor. The space was massive in size, although the left side of it appeared to be cornered off by hanging wall coverings. She would wager if the colorful tapestries were pulled down, the room would be half the size of a small cricket field.
“We’ve only done the right side,” the duke said, explaining the presence of the tapestries. “I thought it looked better to hide the unfinished side of the castle with those. When we are done, they will go back up on the walls.”
Elizabeth nodded. What amazed her was the amount of candlelight. The duke had given the interior all the modern conveniences of the time. Wall sconces. A large candle-filled chandelier. The largest fireplace Elizabeth had ever seen took up what looked to be half of the right wall. Gracious, one could place a bed inside of it. An ornately carved, wood mantel had been built around it, a gold-gilt mirror fixed above that. But the most amazing change had been to the corner tower to her right. The duke had cut an archway into it, an archway that mimicked the exterior ones. Through them, twelve-foot-tall windows looked out over an ocean and a blazing red sky.
Breathtaking.
That was the only word she could find to describe it. She looked straight ahead. Walls had been built in the back half of the castle, no doubt private rooms. She wondered if the back corner tower had been cut out, too. And as she looked around her, one thought penetrated. Goodness, she felt out of her depth. Certainly she’d seen many beautiful homes before, but as she looked around she realized the exact class difference between a duke and a poverty-stricken earl’s daughter.
“We built support beams into the archway,” he said. “Had a devil of a time concealing them beneath the stone, but ’twas the only way we could open up the corner tower like that without the walls above collapsing.”
Too captivated by the view outside the round tower window, she didn’t say anything. Ocean stretched toward a distant shore, the opposite side of the bay, she realized. The sky, which had been shielded outside by courtyard walls, scorched a rolling ocean, the water as fiery, terra-cotta red as the sky above.
“ ’Tis beautiful,” she breathed.
“Aye,” he answered.
“So this is your project?” she asked, turning back to him, the feather in her hat tickling her cheek as she did so.
“It is,” he answered, his body only inches away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? That my home was crumbling about my ears?”
“No. That you were helping to rebuild it.”
“Well of course I am supervising.”
Elizabeth lifted a brow, feeling the urge to poke at him. “You do not supervise, duke. I suspect you work right alongside your staff.”
She had the pleasure of seeing his face fill with guilt, just before he assumed a look of innocence. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
Steeling herself, she reached for his hands, grabbing them. “This,” she said, turning his hand palm up, her fingers tingling where they touched. She swallowed and tried to ignore the sensation. ’Twas a big hand, she realized, the tips of her own fingers barely reaching to his second knuckle. “You have calluses,” she said.
“They’re from riding.”
She looked up, still holding his hand. “Do not try to bamboozle me,” she said softly. “These are not from riding. You labor on this project yourself.”
He stared down at her, Elizabeth seeing a slow smile lift the edges of his lips. She blinked, told herself to step back.
“I see I am found out,” he said softly, his breath drifting over her. Lemons again. He must have a basement full of the stuff, or a dungeon as the case may be.
“You are,” she agreed.
He squeezed her hand. Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. He leaned toward her, saying with a wicked leer, “You should see all the labor I’ve put into the bedroom.”
And just like that, she found the ability to step back. His hand dropped. “Indeed,” she said, straightening. “Why am I not surprised that you would concentrate your efforts there?”
“Because you know what a crime it would be to have my lair less than prepared for any female guests I might have.”
“Oh, it would be a crime,” she drawled. “I wager it would dampen a woman’s mood to be tumbled in a room whose walls crumbled.”
“Tumbled?” he asked on a laugh. “My dear, your first lesson in the art of seduction will be how to speak the proper language. One does not tumble. One has an assignation. One gives pleasure.” He actually leaned toward her, his green eyes glittering. “One makes love,” and was it her imagination, or did he actually growl that last word?
And in that instant Elizabeth knew. She knew she’d gotten in far above her head. Goodness, whatever had made her think she could match wits with the infamous Rake of Ravenwood? A man fabled for his skills as a lover?
She swallowed. He was trying to use those skills on her just then, she realized, his green eyes glowing with a sort of teasing promise that she understood all too well.
“I see,” she managed to say. “I, er”—she swallowed again—“you are quite correct. I need to become familiar with speaking freely. To use words like, ah”—she searched for the naughtiest word she’d heard, saying—“lobcock”—she swallowed, certain her face must look like a sunburned sailor’s—“and, and meat whistle,” she added, wondering where she’d heard that one before. “And sausage stick.”
Though she wished she could sink through the floor, the look on the duke’s face when she was finished made it all worthwhile.
“Where,” he asked, curiosity lighting his green eyes, “did you learn words such as those?”
She stood up as straight as her mortified spine would allow her. “From a friend.”
“Lucy,” he supplied, monotone.
She nodded.
“I should have known.”
“Are you terribly shocked?” she asked, unable to keep the hope from her voice.
“Oh, indeed,” he drawled. “I am.”
She smiled.
He smiled, too, a mouse-in-the-grain-room kind of smile. “Although I am partial to calling my shaft a one-eyed monster. Very apropos, wouldn’t you agree, given its size?”
A one-eyed what?
His lids lowered slowly, his smile sliding up his face in a complacent way.
She told herself not to react. Dratted man. He’d outdone her again. “Er, ah, yes,” she agreed, forcing a blasé expression upon her face. “I imagine most men think theirs is the largest one-eyed monster in existence. At least, that is what Lucy told me.”
“Indeed,” he drawled, his lips twitching now as he apparently tried not to laugh. “Lucy appears to be quite a fount of knowledge.”
“She is,” Elizabeth agreed, quite certain that all the inhabitants of Wales must feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. “I suspect she could teach most courtesans a thing or two, especially now that she is wed.”
He finally let the laugh escape, his chuckles a husky, masculine sound of pure amusement. “I do think you might be correct.” He leaned toward her, his eyes sinfully teasing. “And I am ever so grateful to her for imparting that knowledge to you.�
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She was sure he heard her swallow. Sure he could see her pulse beat at the base of her neck. It felt as if someone was banging a stick there. “Best you remember it is not you who will benefit from that knowledge.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said silkily. His grin grew even more wicked. “For I can think of no other woman who would know such words as ‘lobcock’ and, ah, what did you call it?” He drew back. She felt instantly better. His expression turned thoughtful. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Sausage stick. A most amusing term. I find myself quite anxious to hear what other unusual euphemisms you might know.”
And to that she could think of absolutely nothing to say.
He must have known he had her at a loss for words because he straightened and asked, “Would you like to see the rest of the castle?” abruptly changing the subject as if he knew he’d won the battle. And he had. Handily.
She would rather saw off both her arms and go swimming in the Thames than spend any more time with him, but she forced herself to say, “Of course,” in a polite sort of way.
“Good, then follow me.”
He offered her his arm again. Elizabeth almost ignored it but she knew she would need to get used to touching him thus. Placing her hand on his arm, she tried not to jump when he covered it with his fingers.
“You know, my dear,” he said softly, patting her hand. “I really do think we shall get along famously. You have quite managed to surprise me with your unusual tongue.”
A tongue that felt suddenly tied, Elizabeth realized.
“I believe that prim and proper exterior of yours might hide a very naughty lady, indeed.”
Elizabeth straightened. “I would not wager upon it, duke.”
“No?” he queried, looking down at her at the same time as he patted her hand. Elizabeth tried not to pull away. “Hmm. We shall see, shan’t we?”
Indeed he would, for she was a lady through and through.
Lobcock.
She started, telling herself that she’d said the word merely to shock him.
Oh? a voice asked, then why have you been dying to use that word in a sentence since the moment you heard it?
Nonsense, she told that voice. I wished for no such thing.
Sausage stick.
Her face flamed. Naughty, naughty words. Goodness knew where she’d learned them, for she truly didn’t think Lucy knew them.
She was about to think upon it further, but a sudden realization that he had stopped before the derriere of a deer brought her up short. Well, ’twasn’t really just the hind end of one deer, it was several of the beasts. A tapestry hung before her, a tapestry featuring a herd of unfortunate animals running from men with muskets. Big muskets.
“Have you lost your way?” she asked, as Lucien stared at the rug.
“No,” he said, letting go of her hand briefly to push the woven tapestry aside. “We are going in this direction.”
She looked beyond, the difference amazing, for even in half-light, she could still see the mess the castle had been in. Dusty, gray stones as plain as cave walls made up the interior. Wooden walls tipped and sagged. At one time she supposed those rooms must have been parlors, but they had long since ceased to serve that function. Gracious, it was hard to believe the right side had started out looking like the left.
“We are going someplace special,” he explained. He headed toward the back of the room, stopping before—of all things—a wall.
She lifted a brow. “Yes, indeed this is a special wall, Your Grace. I can see that at a glance.”
He lifted a brow before turning to a stone that seemed to stick out more than the rest. He touched it. Something groaned. She stiffened. The wall seemed to move, the stones vibrating briefly before—gracious—it was moving.
She felt her mouth drop.
“A secret passage,” he said. “It works on a complicated system of pulleys and levers. My ancestors were quite clever.”
She snapped her mouth closed, staring at the black hole with a combination of dread and curiosity. There were stairs. They went down. A long way down, by the looks of it. “Pity they did not pass that intelligence on to you.”
“Oh, they did. You just don’t realize it yet.”
Unfortunately, she knew only too well that the duke was hardly an idiot. All the more reason not to trust him.
“There is a torch just inside,” he said. “Please be so kind as to hand it to me.”
“You must be mad.” She stared down at the dark hole the wall had drawn back to expose. Over the top of the tapestry, the candle chandelier cast a mellow glow upon steps that dropped down into cold, musty, dark space. “You cannot expect me to go down there.”
“Why not?”
“It looks unsafe.”
“Do you not trust me?”
She looked up at him, disturbed to realize she did. Gracious, the man was a rake and a suspected murderer. She shouldn’t trust him.
“No.” Something like static leapt through her, her skin twitching as if she’d stepped through a spider’s web.
He smiled, though she realized that smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Very wise of you, my dear.” He looked away, stepping away from her to grab the torch in question. Elizabeth looked around, hoping to catch the eye of a servant, though what she would have done if one had been nearby, she would never know. But she could see no one beyond the wall hangings, and so she swallowed instead, watching as the duke picked up a lucifer and lit the peat-tipped end with a whoosh of flame.
“Come,” he said, the light glowing around him like a devil’s halo. He waved her before him with a hand.
Why, oh, why did he suddenly seem like a fish … and she the worm?
Chapter Ten
Despite the torch that hissed and spit, only a few steps at a time were illuminated. Reluctantly, Elizabeth stepped onto a large stone landing, smooth walls rising on either side of her. A breeze stirred the feather in her hat, the vanes tickling her cheek. It smelled like fresh-tilled earth. And yet … salty, as if the ocean were nearby, which, of course, it was. Curiosity rose within her, which only served to confirm her worst fear: She’d lost her mind.
“Careful,” he said, turning to close the door—if one could call it that—behind them. It sealed shut with a thud that set Elizabeth’s heart beating. “The steps can get damp this time of year.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said.
She wanted to press the matter, but tilted her chin instead, turning to the first step. And indeed, it was wet, and the lower they traveled, the wetter they became. She could feel the dank coolness seep through her slippers. She paused on a glistening landing and wiggled her toes.
And nearly fell.
“Careful,” he warned again, grabbing her by the arm.
She never, ever thought she’d see the day when she was glad for his touch.
“Gracious, that was close,” she hissed, noting there were still several more steps for them to descend. Bother that. She still couldn’t see the bottom.
“I would advise you to keep going until we reach the end.”
“Is there an end?”
“There is,” he reassured. “Though not as nice an end as yours.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. Nothing,” he drawled.
She compressed her lips, grabbing her skirt as she gingerly took another step, mumbling, “Why could you not be like a normal person and own a home without secret passageways?”
“It is not a secret. All the staff know of its existence.”
“The existence of what? What is this?”
“Worried, Elizabeth?”
“How did you guess?” she asked, “For all I know you could be taking me to the dungeon.”
“The dungeons are in another part of the castle.”
“How lovely.”
“We can go there if you want.”
“So you could have your wicked way with me? I think not.”
She almost crashed into his back as he stopped abruptly. The flames from the torch cast his face in flickering shadows, and yet she could still see the flirtatious smile that slowly lifted the edges of his mouth as he turned back to her. Handsome. She found him handsome. What a nodcock.
“What a novel idea,” he breathed, his teeth exposed as he smiled. “I confess, the thought never entered my mind.”
“No?” she queried.
“Hmm,” he said, stroking his chin with his free hand. “I wonder if I shouldn’t, how did you say it? Have my ‘wicked way with you.’ ”
“I wouldn’t,” she snapped.
“Are you quite sure?” He lifted a brow. “Could I not interest you in a chaining to the wall? I hear that is a most interesting way to tumble a lady.”
She crossed her arms in front of her, staring up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “If you do not behave, duke, you will find yourself tumbling down the stairs.”
“That would hurt.”
“Indeed, though I doubt you could crack that hard skull of yours.”
“My skull is not the only thing that is hard,” he said, wiggling his brows.
She drew away from him, surprised she hadn’t done so before. He was terribly close.
He looked down at her, his expression one of poised anticipation as he waited for her next response.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m sure you do,” he contradicted with a devilish smile. “You forget, I have met your friend Lucy.”
She compressed her lips, trying to tell him without words that she refused to converse with him about such matters. “Lucy is not as base as you think,” she said with a look that didn’t work.
He snorted. Actually snorted. Elizabeth could scarce believe the ignoble sound came from him. Never mind that such a sound emerged from her upon occasion.
“I beg to differ, my dear,” he said on a laugh. “I’m quite sure your friend Lucy has educated you on the exact size, shape, and various lengths of the male penis.”
She gasped. Ooo, the utter crassness of the man. But she would not let him embarrass her. She would not.
She arched a brow. “How astute of you, Your Grace, for Lucy did, indeed, educate me upon such matters.” She smiled up at him sweetly. “And you can be sure, I find yours sadly lacking.”
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