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She might not know the specific details of his life but she understood the degrees of experience that had created that pattern of shadows. Knew there were likely as many rooms of dark to balance the light in his heart as there were in hers. And from Sarah she knew that at one time it had all gone dark, all the lights shattered. He'd had to stumble around in the dark, scream his fear amid that void. Then pull himself together and find a way to start relighting enough rooms to go on, to make his heart function again. She'd known it the first time she'd looked into his eyes, felt it in his touch. And perhaps that was one of the strongest bonds that connected them.
But she couldn't go into that room in his soul without agreeing to let him into hers.
So she dropped it. "I apologize. Thank you for giving me that much. " His grip eased, his thumb rubbing the line of her shoulder, his gaze focused but not seeing her. He was seeing other things, things she'd stirred. Ashamed of herself, she
raised a hand and put it over his to draw his gaze back to her face.
He had a way of forcing himself into the rooms of her soul without her permission.
She wondered if she could set up one of those buzzer systems like he had for this room, where entry was not possible through the steel-reinforced door unless the person inside let them in. But when he displayed a moment of complex vulnerability such as he'd just given her, she knew any such defense would be useless. Locks did not work if the person on the other side was compelled by her own heart to open the door herself and let him in.
"Will you show me how to shoot the bigger gun?" The shift of subject was intentional, to take them back to safe ground. He was still for a moment, watching, gauging. She waited, tense until a smile touched his mouth.
"Absolutely. Though I'm sure I'll regret it. "
Chapter Twelve
Once they went upstairs, Tyler left her to take a quick shower in his room and let her pack up her tea set. When they reunited in the kitchen area, he found Sarah had finished preparing their lunch. The clean smell of pickles and mustard drew his gaze to the deviled eggs contained in a wicker basket on the table.
Marguerite stood by the table in a light cotton dress. Tyler stopped for a moment in the doorway, looking at the way the light from the window filtered through, outlining her body. She turned at the noise of his approach.
"Where are we going now?" she asked.
"A surprise. " He cocked his head. "Take off the dress. I want you naked. " Marguerite saw Sarah through the open archway to the kitchen. The housekeeper's fingers paused briefly over her task, but then she kept on slicing vegetables, keeping her attention on the counter.
"Marguerite. " His voice was a low caress. "Obey me. " Marguerite untied and lifted the dress over her head, feeling cool air touch her skin.
She hoped Tyler would take them out of the kitchen before Sarah had to turn. He seemed in no hurry though, his gaze coursing over her slowly. She wondered if he was deliberately putting her in an uncomfortable position to regain some of the control he'd lost with her unexpected invasion into the range area. The satisfaction she should have felt at that idea held little staying power, however. As she stood before him naked, feeling his gaze caress her, her body responded, moistened. Her back instinctively straightened, displaying herself to him, her chin lifted in challenge.
Even if his motives were petty, after a few charged moments she was certain physical desire had taken the upper hand for both of them. Her nerves vibrated as if he were stroking her. Her gaze swept down over his erection pressed against the jeans, clearly revealed because he wore a golf shirt tucked into them. Drifting from that pleasing sight to his hand hooked in his pocket, her eyes dwelled on the rough knuckles, the lean forearm. It made her remember how his hand had held the gun. The strength and steadiness.
He stepped forward at last, clearing his throat gruffly. Picking up the basket, he took her arm. "Come with me before I fuck you right here," he muttered.
The west wing of the house had a solarium that exited into a very private garden surrounded by hedges and wrought iron. A bed of green grass surrounded a smaller wishing pool. The centerpiece of this one was a Chinese goddess, water spilling out of a vase in her hands. Bright pennies glowed in the bottom of the pool and Marguerite saw there was a small complement of uncast coins in a shallow earthen bowl on the stone ledge.
"Is that a reproduction?"
"No, she's from the eighteenth century, Lamaistic period. I like some of the other depictions of her as well, but bronze is my preference for gardens. " He spread out the blanket. "I thought this was an appropriate place to bring you, based on her story. "
"There are a lot of stories about Qwan Yin. "
"Yes, but I have my favorite. Would you like to hear it?" After a moment, she nodded and his eyes warmed on her, making some of the earlier tension ease. "Qwan Yin was a devout Buddhist in her human form, one who demonstrated great sacrifice and boundless love during her life. There was no question she'd earned the right to enter Paradise when she died. But just as she was about to enter the gates, she heard a cry of anguish from the earth below. Unable to bear the thought of not answering that cry, she turned away from Nirvana and found immortality instead as the Goddess of Mercy. "
"I don't think my subs think of me that way. "
"I think you'd be surprised. Mercy has many forms. " He eased her down into a sitting position on the blanket, putting the basket in between them.
"No way out. " She gestured to the fence that had no gate.
"And why would I want a way out?" He unpacked the basket. "Food, sunshine and a naked woman for company. Beauty in every direction I look. " Though she noted he didn't seem inclined to look anywhere but at her.
"Maybe I was thinking your guest would need an escape route. "
"Nonsense. All women desire to be in my company. " He winked at her, though she still noted a bit of strain around his mouth, keeping him from a true smile. "I'm charming. And if that's not true, at least I'm filthy rich. " She choked on the bite of egg he put between her lips. She managed to swallow, wiped her lips as delicately as possible with her fingers. He didn't offer a napkin, apparently preferring to watch the way she removed it with her own hand. "I can't decide if you're just completely self-aware, or an arrogant bastard, or both. "
"Does it matter? I want you to lie on your back, angel. Look up at the clouds. " Once she was settled, this time he put the entire half-egg on her tongue, making it an awkward moment to chew and swallow without getting yellow yolk around her mouth. He collected the excess with his fingertips and inserted them between her lips so she could lick the rest off.
"What's the verdict?"
