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He rapped softly.
The door opened a crack and wary eyes peered out.
‘Is something disturbing you?’ he asked.
‘Not if— Yes. They are... Those women all...’ She changed her sentence. ‘In the dusk, the features of the paintings are dim, but the whiteness around the pupils glows. Eyes stare at me.’
Inwardly, he smiled. He could imagine his brother relishing the eyes on him.
She stood there, peering around the door, the thin shoulder of her white chemise showing well in the bare light and the skin of her neck filled with dark hollows, but they were inviting valleys.
‘The mermaids—they seem to get more evil the longer I am near them,’ she whispered, perhaps so the women could not hear her.
He agreed, though he felt some loyalty to his brother’s choices. And in the light, the women did have a certain appeal to a man’s base side. ‘I don’t think they should be in public view, but in a man’s private quarters...’ He paused. ‘I think my brother prefers mermaids because he knows he’ll never find one and he uses them to keep—’ He stopped. ‘I can understand Ben’s views, but yours take preference tonight. If he were here, he would feel the same.’
She laughed softly and the sound of it hit him in his stomach, a punch without pain. But with a certain power involved, taking some of his strength.
‘Melina—’ The night on the ship kept returning to his memory. He had wronged her. And he’d tried to stay from her to make it right in his mind. But he also kept calling himself a fool. She wasn’t staying in England and he felt relieved. He didn’t need another entanglement. He had Jacob to think of and Whitegate.
He lived in a man’s world. Women brought tension. Goblets being hurled across the room, shattering. Servants upset. He’d truly been amazed at how well a house could run with only servants at the helm. A fractious woman could cause more upheaval with a misplaced smile than a general with a battalion of men.
He looked into Melina’s face and gently shook his head. ‘I’ll move the paintings.’
‘Warrington.’ Her eyes darted down. ‘I know...’
He didn’t like talking to her with so much between them and particularly standing in a hallway of his house. Broomer could step up the stairs at any moment, probably stomping to alert them of his presence, but all the same—
He gave a soft push to the door and she stepped back, letting him enter without resistance—except in her face. She’d not braided the length of her hair, only pulled it tightly and put a ribbon around it. He’d never seen a woman leave her locks so free when she slept. He took in the dimly lit room and saw the backs of the art now propped against the walls.
The chemise, too full for Melina, hung on her. The garment sneaked into the recesses of his mind because he knew it was the one thing touching her skin the whole of the night.
‘I made sure a dressing gown was placed in the wardrobe for you. He will not mind if you use it. Everything in here is for you to use as you wish,’ he said.
She absently touched the tie she’d put in her hair, which caused a shifting in her clothing, pulling the chemise across her breasts. He instantly turned, not wanting more images of her lodging in his mind—causing a pounding ache that stirred from below and crept up to his chest until he could think of nothing else.
Reaching to the paintings she’d turned to the wall, he took one in each hand, carried them to the hallway and placed them facing the wall. Then he went back for more.
Passing her, he held two more paintings. ‘This is the one way we haven’t displayed them before.’ He sat the two beside the others in the hallway and returned to her. ‘This arrangement might be the best view of them.’
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Yes, I do. They are not what any woman would choose to have around her and only one male I know cares for them.’ A single painting remained in the room. ‘Melina, take the wrap and wait for me in the sitting room. Let’s give these immoral women’s spirits a chance to clear out of the bedchamber.’
In moments she was covered and they walked to the other room. The familiarity of being in a woman’s presence in such a mundane way stirred pleasant feelings in him. Caressed him.
Inside the sitting room, Melina curled into a chair and the candles he’d lit burnished her face, giving her features an otherworldly look. He stood at the door, but she didn’t turn her face to him, avoiding his eyes.
