Lily shot to her feet. “Please excuse me. Evelyn’s expecting a reply and I’d rather not keep her waiting.”
Both men stood as well.
“We’ll fix this,” Greyston said. “Somehow.”
Kelan understood the situation much better and said nothing.
“It really doesn’t matter, not nearly as much as it once did,” she told Greyston. “I’m perfectly fine.”
She flashed them an encouraging smile as she hurried out. “Don’t let me disturb your meal.”
The Signal Chamber was a small, inner room that had to be entered through the library. Lily closed the door behind her and sat herself down on the only chair available, in front of a narrow desk. The signal machinery took up the rest of the space; a massive brass cabinet that stood from floor to ceiling with dials and knobs and horns and frequency needles dancing over tiny black numbers.
Lily planted her elbows on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. She couldn’t impose on Evelyn for much longer when it came to dealing with Aunt Beatrice. What was there to do? To say?
Her reputation was gone. There’d be no life waiting for her in London, no marriage to an eligible man or, perhaps, any man at all. There wasn’t anything left to preserve. Except her dignity and her aunt’s affection.
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled on a sigh filled with regret but no remorse. She’d ruin herself a hundred times over to save the next Mr. Winterberry, the next innocent lad, the next Jean.
Her head lifted at the sound of the door clicking open and then closed.
“It does matter,” came Greyston’s voice. “And you’re not fine.”
She twisted around in her chair. The room was so small, it took him only three steps to reach her, his limp barely noticeable. His cane was nowhere in sight. And yet, this moment chose to swarm her with his grave injury. He’d almost died.
She turned with him, her gaze following as he propped his backside on the edge of the desk beside her and stretched his legs out.
His warm, brown eyes softened on her and snapped the last tie to her old world of propriety and convention. On a scale of what mattered and what did not, silly rumours and ruined reputations couldn’t even begin to compare with Greyston dying.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Lily.”
“I’m not.” The burden lifted from her worried soul and her mood lightened considerably. “Someone once told me it’s time I measured the atrocities in my life by that which will and will not kill.”
“Kelan,” he muttered in disgust. “The man has no bloody right trying to get you to adopt the McAllisters standards when it comes to—”
“It’s still excellent advice.” Her hand landed on his thigh before she realised what she was doing.
Muscle tensed beneath her touch and she started to slide her hand away but he caught it, his fingers closing over hers. A dark, heated look settled in his eyes and set a flutter in her pulse. Her gaze flickered to the tension angled in his jaw, swept over the firm line of his mouth, then returned to those eyes that told her he’d lied, he did still want her after all, he had come back for her, he was all in.
“And someone once told me I shouldn’t fear death to the extent that it became about fearing life,” she said, smiling up at him. “That was also excellent advice.”
“That was before I knew there’d be demons in that life.”
“Greyston?” Her gaze drifted to his lips and stayed there. The quiver running along her veins was part desire and part panic. When had she become so brazen? And what if he hadn’t lied? She had little expertise when it came to men and their passions. “I don’t want to talk about demons.”
She didn’t want to talk at all.
His hand moved over hers, his thumb stroking the top of her wrist. “You make it difficult to say no.”
Her eyes met his again and the panic fled. The topic had definitely moved on from demons and onto kissing. But he was hesitating…he would say no, difficult as it might be. He’d never simply take as he wanted. He wasn’t Kelan.
Kelan! As soon as the name popped into her head, so did the man. Towering over her, locking her down against the cabinet, demanding, taking, acting as if he had a God given right to claim at will. Overpowering her sensibilities and provoking reactions without consent!
Lily jerked to her feet, her hand slipping from Greyston’s to press against his chest as she reached onto her toes, leaning into him.
“Then don’t,” she murmured. Her other hand came to his jaw, barely touching, barely cupping, her fingers fluttering over the bristles in the hollow of his cheek. “Don’t say no.”
Pleading. Begging. Her heart thumped at the insanity.
“I’d planned to do exactly this.” He still held her hand, his gaze dark, stormy and hungry. “And then I wasn’t. I’m not a saint, Lily, but I’m not a bastard either.”
Greyston was every bit as arrogant and domineering as Kelan, every bit the self-assured, proprietary male. But he walked with caution for her. He hesitated to put his own needs and wants before hers. He didn’t force, push and take. He didn’t barge ahead with no regard. Because he cared. He cared whether she’d hate him afterward. He cared whether he left her hurting.
He cared for her.
“Does it have to be so very complicated?” Her voice was a whisper filled with longing. “I missed you, Greyston.”
His eyes travelled down the curve of her throat, and lower. Her dress was neither modest nor indecent, the square neckline revealing the slightest swell of her breasts. Her breaths came quicker, intentionally or not, she didn’t know, but drawing his attention there.
“Dammit, Lily!” His hands settled on the flare of her hips and he slid her closer, sliding her up along his torso as his head came down, his mouth seeking hers.
She tilted her head to receive his kisses, her lips parted and her arms slipping around his waist. His mouth slanted over hers with a possessiveness that drained the strength from her limbs. She went limp against him, yielding completely, losing herself in his taste, in the warmth as his hands left her hips to caress her back and folded her into him. His jacket was unbuttoned and her breasts were pressed to the hard slab of his chest beneath that cotton shirt.
The illicit excitement pebbled her nipples with a hard, aching thread of yearning, but the intimacy was overwhelming. She wasn’t yet quite this brazen.
Lily strained back but he only came with her, one hand now at the base of her skull, his fingers pushing into her hair. His tongue plunged inside her mouth with a driven urgency and she forgot about resisting. Their tongues clashed, curled, stroked and joined them as one in an exotic dance.
A slow heat burned inside her blood, a delicious sensation that wrapped her both inside and out with Greyston, all of him, and she belonged. She was safe, content, loved and tingling with desire. If this was the sum of her world, it was more than she’d ever dreamt of, more than she’d ever deserved.
The kiss ended on a lingering withdrawal as Greyston tipped her head a little further back. His breaths were as ragged as her pulse and she was fairly sure it wasn’t her heart alone that thumped so loudly.
“I missed you, too,” he said, finally drawing back far enough to look at her. “Lily, I love you.”
She blinked, taken off guard and without words.
“You’re in my head, in my heart, in every breath I take.” He lowered his head to brush kisses down her throat. “I love you so goddamn much, it hurts.”
A pleasant sensation unfolded inside her. Warm, fragrant, a blossom unfurling beneath the morning sun. Her heart opening wide, accepting him in, loving him with all that she was.
“Greyston, I—”
“Shhh,” he murmured, crossing a finger over her lips as he brought his head up again. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“But I want—”
“I can’t hear it, Lily.” He looked into her eyes, so deeply, so quietly, she felt as if he were stripping her down to her soul. Then his
arms dropped from her and he moved out of their tight, intimate circle. “Not now.”
Her smile faltered before it could form. Perhaps Greyston did love her, but something wasn’t right with this declaration. “You don’t want to know how I feel?”
“Not right now.” He took another step backward. “It can wait.”
She frowned at him, so much more than confused. Her heart twisted into a series of knots, each one pulling in different directions. “I don’t understand.”
“This one was for me, Lily. I needed to tell you how much I love you.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head at her. “I’m a selfish bastard, I know. But anything you say now will just make it harder. You don’t have to understand. It won’t matter in a…” He fumbled with the doorknob behind him, pulled the door open, then stood there, looking at her as if this was the last time he’d ever see her. “I love you with all my heart. Always will.”
He turned from her, walked out of the room into the library, leaving her with the bewildered impression that he’d just said goodbye.
This one was for me.
It won’t matter in a…in a… in a…
Her heart hiccupped as one possible ending to that sentence dawned on her. A curse tore from her throat.
He wouldn’t dare. But he would. Blast the man, he really wouldn’t. Would he?
The room swirled and her knees buckled. She toppled forward, stopping her fall with a palm slammed to the desk.
It won’t matter in a few minutes.
That declaration of love, the hunger in his eyes, the want he’d stamped on her lips. It was all real, all Greyston, and he was going to shove it aside, shove her aside, turn tail and run from everything they could be.
“Damn him to bloody, blasted hell!”
She shook the dizziness from her head, restored the strength to her legs by sheer willpower, and ran from the room at a sprint. “Greyston!”
The outer door to the library was still swinging closed behind him.
“Greyston!” She swerved around a side table, bashed her knee into the corner of the sofa, and slid the remaining length of the polished floor on her slippers. “Greyston, don’t you dare!”
He wasn’t in the hallway. But he couldn’t have gone far. Her heart seemed to be beating double-time, making such a noise she couldn’t hear a thing. Her frantic gaze darted from alcove to door to the end of the passage. She only needed to distract him for a half-hour, grab onto him and not let go. He couldn’t rewind them if she went back in time with him.
A startled footman turned the corner. “Are you looking for something, m’lady?”
“Greyston,” she snapped. “Have you seen Lord Adair?”
“I’m sorry, m’lady.” He shook his head. “I’ve just…”
Not waiting to hear the rest, she marched down the passage, peeking into shadows and throwing open doors.
Armand came racing up a set of stairs to her left and Kelan approached at a hurried pace from straight ahead.
“Was that you calling for Greyston?” Kelan demanded.
“Is everything all right?” Armand asked.
“Where’s Greyston?” She threw her hands up, close to tears. “Have you seen him?”
“He left the table directly after you,” Kelan said. “I thought he’d gone to find you.”
“Lord Adair?” Armand waved a hand behind him. “I’ve just passed him on the stairs. He’s headed for the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” she called out, grabbing a fistful of skirt in both hands as she broke into a run for the stairs, tripping down…down…down…
“Something like this was bound to happen, sooner or later,” Lily said. “I’m done with hiding.”
When she glanced at Greyston, she found him watching her with a look of weary devastation. As if the Red Hawk had been set asunder rather than her mere reputation. Of course, he distrusted her casual disregard for her fall from grace. He knew her too well. But she’d honestly never expected him, of all people, to appreciate the severity of lost reputations.
Lily shot to her feet. “Please excuse me. Evelyn’s expecting a reply and I’d rather not keep her waiting.”
Kelan stood as well and then, Greyston, a few seconds later. His gaze held hers, so darkly intense, she felt as if he were stripping her down to her soul.
A warm shiver rippled down her spine, not entirely pleasant…more like a disturbance. She shook off the weird sensation and hurried out with the assurance, “I’m perfectly fine.”
She made her way through the library to the small Signal Chamber at the back and sat herself down in front of the narrow desk.
Her reputation was gone. There’d be no life waiting for her in London, no marriage to an eligible man or, perhaps, any man at all. There wasn’t anything left to preserve. Except her dignity and her aunt’s affection. She couldn’t impose on Evelyn for much longer when it came to dealing with Aunt Beatrice. What was there to do? To say?
She planted her elbows on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. Perhaps Greyston understood more than she gave him credit for. That would explain his absolute grimness.
Goodness! Once, not so long ago, he’d have been quite happy about the whole situation. Once, he’d asked if she’d ever consider leaving behind the whirl of London to make a home with him on Es Vedra.
Is that what had him so worried? That she might now accept an invitation he was no longer offering?
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled on a sigh filled with regret but no remorse. She’d ruin herself a hundred times over to save the next Mr. Winterberry, the next innocent lad, the next Jean.
As for Greyston, as for eligible men and marriage, that was neither here nor there. Thankfully, she was in possession of an independent fortune. If she were indeed cast out of Society, she’d find some corner in this world to make herself a home.
Her mood lightened as she realised what she was doing. She was measuring the atrocities in her life by that which would and would not kill.
She hadn’t truly taken Kelan’s advice to heart until this very minute and, well, it was quite liberating.
Although it did not solve the problem of Aunt Beatrice.
She reached inside the drawer for the notebook of frequency codes and flipped through the pages as she went to stand before the signal machine. Most of the technology was hidden inside the brass cabinet, which suited her just fine. All she had to do was turn the dial until the frequency needle settled on the correct set of numbers and the rest occurred as if by magic.
Once she’d dialled in the code for Harchings House, she lifted the horn to speak.
“Dearest Evie, your news was rather alarming but please, do not worry. I am well and refuse to despair, and neither must you. Poor Pragella, I cannot blame her. Please assure her she has lost none of my affection and I do so long to see all of you again.”
A wave of loneliness and longing swept over Lily. She wished she could pull up a chair and have a hearty conversation with Evelyn, but that would not do. Besides, one could never be sure which pairs of eyes might intercept the message on the other side. She chose her next words with care.
“With regards to Aunt Beatrice, she is not to know. Under no circumstances, Evie. Is that clear?”
If Aunt Beatrice sniffed a trace of danger surrounding her only niece, she wouldn’t rest until every last threat had been removed. Lily couldn’t risk involving her aunt in this demon war.
She bit down on her lip, wrestling with the decision to be made. If she didn’t feed her aunt something, the woman would beat down the fences until she found something, and that something might well be a demon.
Lily took a deep, calming breath, then held the horn to her mouth again.
“I’ll pen a letter to my aunt, Evie, but I’ll send it to you to pass on for me. I’d prefer Aunt Beatrice to not know my whereabouts. She is not to come here. I intend to tell her the truth, about how I’ve fallen in love with an unsuitable man and we’ll be home as soon as we’ve resolved
the difficulties of our arrangement. If Aunt probes for more detail, please be vague. I have no wish to dig more holes than necessary. Whatever other connections may be lost, I have no wish to alienate my aunt beyond redemption. I think… I hope, she may forgive love above all else.”
There, it was done.
The young technician in charge of the Signal Chamber at Harchings House was in Evelyn’s confidence. He already knew Lily was residing at Cragloden Castle and so far, that information hadn’t rebounded. If she were lucky, this might remain a family matter. The most important thing, however, was to keep her aunt obsessing about her unfortunate choices in love and away from the truth.
Lily glanced around the small room, her eyes stretching to hold in the sudden rush of tears. How long ago was it? Three months? That she’d been standing with Evelyn and Pragella on the perimeter of Lady Cheshire’s dance floor, contemplating her choice of husband. She’d given up her silly notions of love in exchange for an ounce of the freedom to be found, she’d finally concluded, only in the state of matrimony.
She’d been wrong.
Freedom could also be bought at the price of a reputation, at the price of giving up her place in society.
It was a lonely place to be.
Foolish sentiment.
She blinked her tears away. Evelyn would always be there for her. As would her aunt. She might not have all the glamour and festivities, the acceptance into many circles, but she would not be alone. Not completely.
The best thing now, she told herself firmly, was to make her choices count. There was no time for tears when she had a demon to find.
SEVEN
Kelan spurred his mount on at the sound of Sannon’s barking. He’d left the gates open when he’d ridden into town this morning and now he rode straight into the courtyard at a gallop, pulling sharply at the bit and sliding from Burr’s back in front of the stables.
He tossed the reins at the lad who came running up. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Dunno, m’lord. She just started that ruckus but a moment ago.”
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 34
