by Lucy Monroe
The similarity of her position to the one she had been in when Lucas found her in Aunt Harriet’s garden reminded her of their consuming kiss. The word did not seem adequate to encompass the level of intimacy she and Lucas had shared, intimacy that still left her blushing whenever she thought of it, but which had not been repeated in any shape or form since their arrival at the manor.
Lucas could not have made it plainer he had no desire to repeat the experience. She bit her lip, wondering if her unladylike response in the garden had given him a complete disgust of her.
The heroes in the novels she read liked their lady loves to respond to them without inhibition, but then they never got much beyond a very enthusiastic closed mouthed kiss. How would those same heroes react to a heroine who allowed her bosom to be bared in the afternoon sun? Who not only allowed it, but had shamelessly reveled in the experience?
When he had said he wanted her, images of her naked body entwined with his had started swimming behind her closed eyelids. It had been the shock of those images that had brought her to her senses and her first attempt at calling a halt to the devastating kiss.
Another disturbing thought that nagged at her was the fact that thus far Lucas’s passions had not become stirred unless he was well and truly angry. It was a depressing notion, one she had tried to ignore, but could not. The facts could not be altered. She wished she knew more about this aspect of a man and woman’s relationship. Perhaps she should ask Thea.
Thea had a very affectionate marriage with Drake and she’d had two children. Surely she could advise Irisa in the matter. On the other hand, it did not appear that Drake ever needed anger, or anything else for that matter, to bolster his affection for her sister. Thea might be as stymied by Lucas’s behavior as Irisa.
No matter how long she brooded, she could not come up with a clear understanding of Lucas’s treatment of her. Sighing in defeat, she opened her novel and was soon lost in a world of crumbling castles and lurking menace. She was not aware of the passage of time, although her rooftop perch had grown colder and she had been forced to draw the quilt around her shoulders.
It was not until she shifted a third time in as many minutes, trying to cast better light on the pages of her novel, that she realized it had grown quite late. And cold. And dark.
Clouds now covered the rapidly waning sun and the gentle breeze had turned into a biting wind. It looked as if a spring shower was budding. She reluctantly closed her book, stood and stretched. Her muscles ached from remaining in one position so long and she groaned.
Funny that no one had come looking for her. Perhaps she could make it back to her room before anyone even noticed her absence. At the thought, she hurried toward the door. Reaching it, she pulled on the large wooden handle. It did not budge. It must be stuck. She put her book and the blanket down and tried again, this time pulling with all her might. Still, the door did not even rattle on its hinges. Could the bar have fallen back in place?
It did not seem possible. It had been so heavy. Yet, the door would not open. She continued to yank on it for another five minutes before giving up, her arms aching from the strain.
All the while shadows grew around her and she tasted the dampness of impending rain in the air. Soon she would be in complete darkness. It was a moonless night and the clouds would block even the meager illumination from the stars. After the hours she had spent reading about ghosts and dark, dangerous passages, she did not look forward to a nightlong vigil on the tower roof.
There was nothing for it. She would have to call for help. Mama would be appalled that she was once again making a spectacle of herself, but Irisa saw no alternative. She walked to the wall facing the other tower. Perhaps Lucas was still in his study and he would hear her.
She shouted his name over and over again, but no answering cry came. The darkness descended around her as her voice grew hoarse from yelling for help and Lucas alternatively. She could no longer make out the shape of the other tower and she had to accept that a light would burn in the small window if Lucas were in his study.
How soon would Pansy notice she was missing? Surely her maid expected her to dress for dinner. Would anyone think to look for her on the roof walk? She peered over the wall in the quickly fading light. The nearest roof looked sickeningly far away. She would rather wait out the storm than break her neck jumping.
Wind rushed over her skin and cut through her light muslin dress. Shivering, she edged around the roof in search of the blanket she had left on the ground near the door. Her foot kicked something soft and she said a quick prayer of thanksgiving as she realized it was the quilt. She hastily picked it up and wrapped it around herself, hugging the thick fabric to her body.
Huddling down against the wall beside the door, she tried to find some protection from the cold wind and prayed Lucas would find her soon. She put the blanket over her head when the raindrops began to fall.
***
Lucas opened the door to the east tower room, fear riding him hard. Where had Irisa gone? Since it had become apparent she had disappeared, they had searched the entire house and still found no sign of her. Bloody hell. What had his fiancée gotten herself into now?
She had said that she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry him, but he refused to believe that she had run away.
The feeling of uneasiness that had been growing for the last hour became acute. Something had happened to Irisa and he had to find her. Now.
He looked around the tower, but just as the underfootman had said, it showed no signs of occupation. He lifted the branch of candles he carried toward the winding staircase. The door to the roof walk was shut, with the heavy bar firmly in place. He considered the closed door. Irisa had shown marked interest in the roof walks when he’d given her family a tour of the house. Yet, she couldn’t be out there. Not with the bar blocking the door.
He turned to leave the room and stopped. Bloody hell. What would it hurt to look outside? They had looked everywhere else.
Knowing it would be a useless exercise and yet unable to stop himself, Lucas loped up the stairs and opened the door in short order. He kept the branch of candles inside, away from the wind and driving rain, but near enough to the door to cast light onto the roof walk. Just as he thought. There was nothing there, but a pile of rags. Then the pile moved and he realized it was a quilt. Covering a person.
“Irisa.”
The soaked cover slid down to reveal Irisa’s blonde hair, damp but not soaked from the rain. Thank God she’d had the blanket. She blinked, brown eyes dark and huge in her white face, and stood shakily to her feet. “L-Lucas?”
“Irisa,” he said again. “What the bloody hell are you doing out here?”
“I-I’m c-cold.” Her teeth chattered and her body shook violently.
Damnation. He had to get her inside. “Come here, little one.” He couldn’t risk letting the door shut again.
She obeyed, letting the wet blanket drop and bending to scoop something up from where she had been sitting. When she reached him, he saw that it was a novel. The book, at least, appeared dry. He reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping her dampened form in his arms.
“Th-that f-feels s-so g-good. You’re w-warm, L-lucas.”
He tugged her inside and pulled the door shut, blocking out the storm. Irisa shook too much to walk. Unfortunately, she was in no shape to hold the branch of candles while he carried her either. Reaching down, he retrieved the candle branch and settled Irisa over his other shoulder in one swift movement.
“L-lucas, you c-can’t c-carry me like this. It isn’t d-decent.”
“I’ve got to get you warm, little one.”
“B-but, Lucas…” She let her voice trail off and didn’t finish the complaint, apparently realizing he had no intention of stopping.
He carried her to her room, barking orders at servants along the way.
“Have a hot bath brought immediately to Lady Irisa’s room. Pansy, have Cook prepare warmed, spiced wine and a pot of tea. Some
one get Mrs. Drake. Inform Lady Langley that her daughter has been found.”
He handed the branch of candles he’d been carrying to one of the upstairs maids and lowered Irisa into a more secure hold in his arms.
She looked up at him with eyes heavy-lidded from her ordeal. “I knew you would find me,” she whispered before her eyes closed.
His heart constricted. From her chilled and soggy condition, he had to admit that he had almost found her too late. Hell, he had almost not even looked. The prospect of Irisa spending the night on the tower roof, unprotected while the storm raged around her, filled Lucas with impotent fury. How had she gotten locked up there?
He would find whoever was responsible and God help them when he did.
***
Irisa awoke the next morning feeling unexpectedly clear-headed, particularly when she considered the two mugs of warmed, spiced wine Lucas had insisted she drink the night before. Perhaps the almost entire pot of tea he had also ordered her to drink had had a mitigating affect on the alcohol in the wine. Whatever the reason, she felt disgustingly healthy and alert after her misadventure.
Sun streamed in through the windows attesting to the fact that the storm of the previous evening had moved on.
About to toss back the coverlet and get up, she was stayed by the sound of a peremptory knock on the door. Looking around the room, she realized she was alone. Pansy must have gotten up and left. Irisa wasn’t about to answer the door in her nightrail. She waited, not surprised when it opened seconds later revealing Lucas.
He did not look quite as good as she felt. In point of fact, he looked rather tired and irritated. She stifled a sigh. She really did not wish to argue this morning. Scooting to a sitting position against the headboard, she tugged the sheet and coverlet up to her chin and held it in place with both hands.
“Good morning, Lucas.” Should she mention that it wasn’t quite the thing for him to be in her bedroom?
“Not really. It’s been a bloody frustrating morning and now it is almost afternoon.”
No wonder she felt so well rested. She’d slept the morning away. “I’m sorry your morning hasn’t gone well. Estate business?”
Lucas frowned and sat down on the bed next to her, reaching out to tug one of her hands away from the sheet and hold it in his own. “Not likely. The only thing in my life that can frustrate me to the level I have experienced this morning is my headstrong, impulsive little fiancée.”
Well. Really. Lucas could not blame her.
She tried to free her hand from his grasp, but he would not let go. “I just woke up. How can I have been causing you problems in my sleep?”
“I think, little one, that you could cause me untold complications regardless of your conscious state. As to how you managed to upset my morning, let me enlighten you. First, it came to my attention that you deceived both your sister and your maid in order to lose yourself on the tower roof.”
She gasped. She had not lost herself. It had hardly been her fault that the door had been barred from the other side.
He went on as if she hadn’t made a single sound of protest. “Second, when I tried to discover who had locked the door with you still on the roof walk, I could find no one who admitted to going into the east tower room yesterday. Not one single person, servant or family member. I’m rather proud of my ability to discover necessary information and this morning’s setback has put me in a black mood.”
He needn’t make it sound as if his black mood were all her fault.
“But someone must have replaced the bar. I could hardly do so myself from the other side.” One of the servants must have done it, but be afraid to admit their culpability and face Lucas’s wrath.
He rubbed her palm with his thumb. “That is true and leaves us some rather disturbing conclusions to draw, do you see?”
Small shocks were traveling from her palm up her arm and she found it difficult to concentrate on Lucas’s words. “What conclusions?”
“Well, either one of my servants is lying to me which is a troubling thought, or it was not a servant. The other possibilities are few: your sister, her husband, your mother or your father.”
“My family would have no reason to latch doors in your house, Lucas. I’m sure it was a servant who forgot doing it until I was found.” Even to her ears the excuse sounded lame.
“Perhaps it was done on purpose. Your parents are both very angry with you for causing them distress.”
Irisa was incensed. Her family would never do anything so despicable. “What about you, Lucas? I’ve caused you a great deal of trouble as well.”
He didn’t even flick an eyelash at the accusation. “You know it wasn’t me.”
“How can I be sure?” she asked, not knowing why she baited him. Of course, she knew it wasn’t him. Lucas would never hurt her, but his assumption it was one of her parents both hurt and angered her.
“You trust me.”
She refused to acknowledge the truth of his words. He had things far too much his own way as it was.
He leaned over and brought his face close, his mouth hovering over hers in an intimate challenge. “Admit it, little one. You trust me. You knew I would find you last night.”
She retreated against the headboard the fraction of an inch still remaining, but Lucas followed her. “Tell me.”
“No. You are already far too arrogant.”
“It is not arrogance to desire your trust. It is necessity,” he said, his bottle-blue eyes compelling her to speak.
She wanted to keep the words inside, but the vulnerability she sensed in him swayed her. “Yes. I trust you.” She turned her head away from him. “Are you satisfied?”
He tipped her face back toward him. “No, but I will be. In one week I will be very satisfied, Irisa.”
She looked into his eyes darkened by desire. “Oh.”
He smiled briefly before touching his lips to hers in a short kiss. He moved his head back so she could meet his gaze. “Just one week and you will be mine.”
CHAPTER TEN
His voice made her shiver. “I think we need to talk about that, Lucas. I’m not sure marrying so quickly is a good idea.”
“I am.” He moved back a little but left one arm over her lower body. His hand rested on the coverlet near her leg.
It must be nice to be so certain. “I think we need to discuss this.”
Irritation replaced the desire in his countenance. “We need to discuss why you disobeyed my orders to be in your sister or your maid’s company at all times, Irisa.”
“I’m not one of Mr. Wemby’s hounds to be so easily led.” She would not spend her marriage being dictated to and ignored by her husband. If he wanted her in someone’s company, he could bloody well take care of the job himself.
Lucas cocked his brow. “Are you saying that you don’t intend to obey me in our marriage, Irisa?”
“Had I thought you wanted to wed a well-trained hound rather than a woman with her own mind, I would never have accepted your proposal in the first place,” she informed him rashly.
“I want you.”
“Well, I have a mind and I can think for myself. I wanted some time alone yesterday and if I hadn’t been forced to use subterfuge to get it, that dreadful experience on the tower roof would never have happened.”
Lucas looked momentarily taken back. “That is one way to look at it, I suppose. There is another alternative. If you had been with your maid or your sister, you would not have been locked outside in the midst of a storm.”
“I didn’t want to be with anyone else,” she reminded him.
“Why?”
“I just wanted to be by myself.”
The heat of his body burned her through the coverlet where his hip rested against her thigh. “Clarice told me that she did not think you were nearly as biddable as I had led her to believe. I am fast drawing the conclusion that you are not as biddable as you led me to believe either.”
“You discussed me with Clarice?” she
asked, outraged.
He shrugged. “Yes. She is the only thing resembling family that I have. It only seemed natural to tell her about my perfect paragon of a fiancée.”
“I’m not exactly a perfect paragon any longer.”
“No, you are not, but you are interesting.” Humor sparkled in his eyes.
“Are you laughing at me, Lucas?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, little one.”
She would have moved away, but his position made it impossible. “I don’t think I’m as biddable as I led myself to believe either,” she admitted, returning to their earlier conversation.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“You changed. I want to understand why. I’ve been thinking about it for the past week. It occurred to me that you had begun withdrawing from me before you overheard gossip about Clarise and I. What happened, Irisa? You seemed content with our bargain when you accepted my proposal.”
“I did not precisely see it as a bargain.”
“Label it what you like, but I thought we were both getting what we wanted out of our association. Yet you turned cold and now you are attempting to withdraw your promise to marry me.”
There he went, thinking with as much insight as a box hedge again. Really, were all men so thick when it came to matters of the heart? “I was disappointed.”
He was back to rubbing her palm with his thumb. “How did I disappoint you?”
“I had assumed a certain warmth of feeling on your part when you asked me to marry you, but your actions during our engagement have given evidence to the contrary.”
“Your welfare is of utmost concern to me. I am...” He stopped as if searching for the right word. “...fond of you, Irisa. Quite fond.”
“I am looking for a sensibility of feeling beyond mere fondness, Lucas.” Particularly a fondness he had found so difficult to utter.
“What exactly are you getting at?” he asked with a wariness she could not mistake.
“I want your love, Lucas.” There. She’d said it.
He could make of it what he wished, but she would not withdraw her words. She loved this dense, stubborn man and wanted nothing less in return.
