“To my bed. And you need to go to your bed.”
Her mouth made a moue of disappointment, but she obeyed and backed up. He almost sighed with relief, until she lay on the edge of her bed, curling her lovely, naked body in the most beguiling way possible. She smiled, an invitation. “Are you certain you don’t want to stay?”
His breeches would not be able to hold him back. The buttons would pop off in a minute. Neal clutched the door handle as if it was a lifeline.
“It’s best I leave,” he defended himself, yet hewanted nothing more than to tear off his clothes and join her. Then again, what if all the other guests waited outside the door? He didn’t want them to tear apart her reputation more than they already would.
“Tomorrow.” The word was starting to sound weak to his own ears.
He opened the door and escaped into the hallway. Only then could he breathe again. He struggled a moment with his own weakness.
Neal had to think. He couldn’t marry Thea. His father had been right. If he married Thea, he would love her more.
And it wasn’t just the intimacy between them that he loved. He could talk to her and she listened to him. She was interested in what he thought and how he felt. And there was trust between them.
Now he understood the danger of the Siren. Thea had seduced him. His senses were still full of her. He faced her door, uncertain if he had the courage to leave here and return to his room. All he wanted to do was go back to her. Heneededher.
Just as Neal started to reach for the door handle, Mirabel’s voice spoke behind him.
“It’s about time you came out of there,” she said.
Startled, Neal turned. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he’d barely registered hissurroundings. Mirabel stood, a tall, regal figure in the hall’s candlelight. The servant usually stationed at the head of the stairs was gone. She must have dismissed him.
“Thea and I had matters to discuss,” he said, sounding to his own ears like a schoolboy who had been caught filching a sweet.
Mirabel leaned close to him. “You will marry her.”
“Of course.” He had no choice.
A smile tightened her face. “Good ... because my other guests will be leaving at dawn’s first light. This story will be all over London by dinner. Thea must be protected.”
“My intentions are honorable.”
“Youwillmarry her?” she repeated.
He thought of the curse, thought of Thea having to face the biddies if he did not do what was right ... thought of her sons. “Absolutely. I told her I would dispatch a messenger on the morrow for a special license.”
Mirabel sank into a deep curtsey, taking hold of his hand. “My lord, you are a godsend. Thank you.”
“I’m doing what is right.”
“I don’t care why you are doing it,” Mirabel confessed happily. “Of course, after the noise the two of you were making, well, I believe you have good reason to marry Mrs. Martin. But most ofall, she is the best person in the world. My one true friend. See you take good care of her.”
“I shall.”
“Good night, my lord,” she said, turning and walking down the hall. “May you have sweet dreams.”
Neal nodded. Alone again, he drew a deep breath and walked to his room, but it was a long time before he fell asleep. And when he did, he had the dream. It was filled with images of him making love to Thea, but in the background was a crone’s wicked laughter. He could see her shadow, knew she watched them. The sound was hideous, and he woke in a sweat, fearing it was true. Had the witch been in the room with him and Thea?
Throwing his legs over the side of his bed, Neal realized he was breathing as if he’d run hard ... or had been making love. He was covered in sweat, and the crone’s wild laughter still rang in his ears.
He looked in each corner. He was alone, yet he had the uneasy suspicion there was someone there. He could almost sense her breathing, watching, waiting.
But she wasn’t real. He knew that.
She’d been in his dreams before. He’d forgotten, but the evilness in the sound of her laughter had brought it all back to him. He’d dreamed ofher in his youth, during that summer when he’d met Thea by the stream.
He remembered how his father had talked to him about the curse. He hadn’t known his father had returned to Morrisey Meadows from London until he’d been called to the library. His father had still been in his traveling clothes.
