“Ithink this girl might mean something to him,” Mary said as she walked through the garden with Keswick later that morning.
“Men do not marry their mistresses.”
“I’m not implying he should marry her, but she might be able to reach that part of him that still belongs to Pembrook.”
“You do have fanciful thoughts, sweetheart.”
She tightened her hold on his arm. She walked on his unscarred side only because he wouldn’t be able to see her otherwise. The heavy scars that marred his face did not bother her. They never had—except for revealing that he had suffered greatly. She had loved him as a child. She loved him still. She always would.
“He’s still there, you know. The boy he was. It’s only that he’s lost.”
Keswick stopped walking and took her in his arms. “I hope you’re correct about this woman, then. Because I know what it is to be lost. And I know what it is to finally come home. You are my home.”
He kissed her then, deeply and urgently. She would never tire of the passion that swelled up between them. As he lifted her into his arms and began carrying her toward the house, she laughed. It seemed he would never tire of it either.
Chapter 6
Evelyn wandered through the corridors and rooms. Rafe could not possibly have meant that he intended to gift her with this residence. He must have meant that he would purchase a smaller one, maybe even a cottage somewhere. This place had been built to accommodate a large family, someone who entertained often. There were salons with crystal chandeliers, and she imagined the light from the candles flickering over dancers. The library contained numerous sitting areas and walls of books. Chairs and draperies were dark burgundy or hunter green. Everything was exquisite.
No, he could not possibly intend to give her this dwelling.
What truly fascinated her was that every room contained a globe, or a picture of one. She strolled to the window of a small sitting room and gazed out on the luxurious gardens. She could well imagine the lady of the house doing the same thing, finding herself filled with peace and comfort.
Closing her eyes, she fought not to open the nearby doors, step out, and keep walking through the garden, to the mews. She would have a very fine life here, but the cost to her soul—
She couldn’t even imagine the price she would ultimately pay.
Opening her eyes, she set her jaw. She would make certain Geoffrey paid more, in one way or another. She had never considered herself to be one for revenge, but at that moment she despised him. That he would do this. What sort of creature was he? It was difficult to believe they shared the same father.
She suddenly felt overwhelmed with exhaustion.
Turning on her heel, she strolled from the room. The residence was so large that, in spite of the many servants, it felt incredibly empty and lonely. She thought she might go mad with nothing to do except wait for Rafe’s arrival. Her stomach clenched, for when he did arrive—
She didn’t know how she would manage to give herself to him without making a spectacle of herself, weeping for all she was losing.
She pulled herself up the grand staircase. At the top she turned in the direction of her bedchamber. As she passed a door, she stopped.
It barred entrance to his bedchamber. Last night, she’d heard movement in there as the maids had been undressing her and attempting to warm her quickly. Then it had grown eerily quiet.
Was a globe in that room as well? His bed was there, the bed she would share with him. She wondered what it looked like. Large. Thick sturdy wood. Dark wood. She supposed the canopy would be draped in the burgundy he favored. The room would smell of him. Sandalwood and bergamot. And Scotch. Although that was more taste than fragrance. On his tongue, in her mouth. Licking her lips, she could almost taste that devastating kiss that he’d bestowed upon her after they’d come to terms near midnight.
A tiny shiver swept through her. In that room, in that bed, he would do a good deal more than kiss her. She would be uncomfortable enough with him. She should be familiar with the room, be at ease within it. She reached for the knob—
Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulled her to the side, and she found herself brushing up against Rafe.
“You seem to have lost your way,” he said. “Your room is next door.”
She swallowed down the lump of fear that had risen in her throat. “I’ve been touring the residence. I just wanted to see your room.”
“You’re never to go in there.”
Confused, she blinked. Dare she hope that he had changed his mind? “Then how will I get into your bed?”
“I’ll come to yours.”
No reprieve. Blast him. That knowledge pricked her temper. “But you said I would be inyourbed.”
“It’s an expression, although technically your bed is my bed since I own it.”
