He dusted off his hands over the sink first before retrieving the treat that smelled suspiciously like liver and kidneys, neither of which had ever truly appealed to him. He handed it to her, watching with interest as she offered it to her dog. Her smile as Laddie gobbled it down was the sort about which poets mused. Marcus wanted it captured in oils, along with the delight in her eyes. Along with the single teardrop that still clung tenaciously to her lashes, a reminder of her warm, caring heart.
“Well, he might not want to frolic about, but hisappetite doesn’t seem to be suffering.” She looked at Marcus. “I don’t suppose you were able to get a look at the intruders.”
“No. They were quite adept at making their escape.”
“Who do you think they were? What did they want? Do you think they followed us from Podmore’s?”
All questions he’d been asking himself. “If they meant no harm, they’d have not run off.”
She gave a quick nod, walked into the hallway, and disappeared around the corner. He heard a knock, then her voice. “Some ruffians were prowling about in the garden. When Laddie discovered them, they made a hasty exit after hurting him. Have a couple of footmen patrol the gardens until dawn.”
“Righto,” Brewster replied. “Laddie?”
“I think he’ll be fine. Stanwick tended him.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Laddie?”
Marcus heard the grunt, took pleasure in imagining Brewster scowling. “Stanwick.”
“He’s given us no reason not to trust him.”
“Which is exactly what someone we shouldn’t trust would do.”
Silence greeted that pronouncement, and Marcus was a tad disappointed she didn’t defend him again, but more vigorously. Then he heard her slippers brushing over the floor, and she was soon back in his company. “Brewster is going to have a couple of footmen keep watch.”
“So I gathered from the conversation.”
Her cheeks turned a rosy hue, the only indication she might be embarrassed or regret that he was aware of a discussion she’d no doubt wished he hadn’t overheard. “Would you mind carrying Laddie upstairs? He sleeps in my chamber.”
Marcus was actually grateful for that tidbit of information. Based on what he’d witnessed tonight, the cocker would defend his mistress to the death if anyone entered her room with malicious intent. Marcus had always believed canines instinctually knew good people from bad. Perhaps evil gave off a rancid smell.
Laddie didn’t object when Marcus gingerly cradled him in his arms again and carted him up the stairs in Esme’s wake. He couldn’t decide if he liked what she was wearing. It flowed so much that it camouflaged the shape of her body, but because of the silky-smooth way it floated around her, he was relatively certain she wore very little, if anything, beneath it. He imagined it sliding along her length and pooling on the floor, her stepping out of it and into his arms to thank him for returning animation to her dog.
At the landing, he followed her into her bedchamber and staggered to a stop. He’d envisioned her sprawled over red satin sheets, surrounded by red-and-purple pillows. He’d expected decadence. Nude statues and paintings.
Not the white-trimmed-in-pink duvet. Not the two wingback plush chairs with the pink-and-white brocade cushions. Not the large painting ofa shoreline with a little girl, pail in hand, bent over examining a seashell. The pastel pink-and-orange sky with just a trace of blue and only a few wispy clouds indicating dawn or sunset. And certainly not the porcelain doll sitting on her vanity.Great Expectationsrested on the bedside table.
“You can set him on the right side of the bed,” she said. “That’s where he sleeps. Or where he starts out, I should say. Eventually he’ll curl against me.”
For the first time in his life, Marcus was jealous of a dog. When he stepped away, he was surprised Esme remained standing by the window, as though his proximity to the bed was a danger to her—or perhaps a temptation she wouldn’t be able to resist. He couldn’t deny that tossing her on it had certainly crossed his mind. He could still feel her tears on his thumb, wanted to plumb her hidden depths, wanted to discover if she was as passionate between the sheets as he anticipated.
“I think I’ll have a physician examine Laddie once it’s daylight,” she said softly, her gaze homing in on Marcus.
“If you can find one willing to look at an animal.”
“I’ll pay him enough that he will do anything I ask.”
He had the disturbing thought that even without payment, Marcus would do anything she asked. How had he come to this point? It was more than the earlier tears, the softness of her heart. It was her strength, her courage, her belief in herrighteous endeavors. He was incredibly tempted to cross over to her and take that luscious mouth of hers. But because the temptation was so great, he said, “I should abed.”
“Thank you for seeing to Laddie, for bringing him back around. I’d have never thought to try spices.”
He shrugged. “I suspect he’d have eventually woken up on his own.”
“Still, it was reassuring not to have too long a wait.” She trailed a hand over the silky white curtain with its pink trim. The entire room seemed far too delicate for her. Too innocent.
His bedchamber was darker hues, hunter green and burgundy. Too masculine for her. He’d thought she resided somewhere in between the décor of his room and hers. She was a conundrum, an enigma. How much of her was real? How much pretense? If he were to seduce her, which woman would he find in his arms? The devil of it was that everything about her intrigued him. “Good night, Esme.”
