Chapter Twelve
Cyrus wanted to kick himself. Why in blazes had he praised Elspeth's beauty? He often blurted out the truth without warning. Clearly, he'd shocked her, as well as himself, but he wasn't going to recant or apologize. He never did when he spoke the truth. Why would she not consider it a compliment? Because she wished her canny mind to be more highly valued than her beauty? He could understand that. Personally, he would not wish to be judged on his looks alone, but on his abilities.
Still, the way she'd eyed his bare chest earlier told him she was indeed judging his looks, and that she liked what she saw. In fact, her shy but interested glances had piqued his interest far more than he wanted to admit.
Deciding to change the subject before he got himself into trouble, he turned to her. "Rebbie said your businesses are highly successful."
Her elegant auburn brows arched and some of the disquiet left her expression. "Did he?"
"Indeed."
"I find being a merchant rewarding, especially dressmaking."
"I admire anyone who works hard and pursues what they want."
The corners of her beautiful lips lifted a fraction. "Then you're far different from most earls."
Was she referring to her former protector? Cyrus loathed thinking about the man, but he knew the type she referred to—those who felt entitled. They'd been born to privilege and had everything handed to them on a golden platter.
"Probably because my father was a baron," Cyrus said. "I've always worked hard and relentlessly chased after what I wanted."
"'Tis why you're an earl now." Her look was almost admiring.
"Aye. The king rewards those who are loyal and helpful to him."
"And soon you will have a marquess's daughter for a wife and her abundant dowry."
Ignoring the slight acerbic slant of her tone, he nodded. What astonished him was he didn't feel as fired up about the match as he once had. In fact, his spirits flagged when he considered it. What the devil was wrong with him? He still wanted to marry Lady Lily, didn't he? Of course. Why wouldn't he? With her status and her youth, she was perfect. It mattered not that he couldn't recall the shape of her face. "The alliance with Kilverntay is more important than the dowry."
"Of course." Elspeth looked doubtful, but he wasn't going to argue the point. 'Twas true the added wealth would benefit his clan.
He observed her, 'haps enjoying the view a bit too much. "What about you? Why haven't you remarried?"
"I have no need to. If I retain ownership of all my properties, I can one day give them to my son and he'll be all the wealthier for it. If I marry, the properties could go to my husband instead."
"'Tis true."
They were more alike than he'd realized. She was an incredibly canny woman who took the responsibilities for her family very seriously. He had not wanted to be even more drawn to her, but he found he was. He yearned to observe her closely but forced himself not to.
The flames in the hearth burned lower. But the stone receptacle designed for holding firewood was now empty, else he would've added more. As it was, the intimacy of the room increased in the dimness, teasing at his senses, inspiring forbidden fantasies of touching her, lifting her hand, kissing the back. Or maybe framing her waist, tugging her close and kissing her alluring lips.
Damnation, he had to get out of this room before he made a daft move he would regret.
"Well, I'm certain you're tired." He stood and set his empty glass aside. "I should not have kept you so long. I bid you goodnight."
She arose from the chair. "Goodnight. And again, if you should need anything more, let me know."
"I appreciate it." Damnation, he found he did indeed need something more, but he could never have it.
He followed her from the room. She spoke with the housekeeper, then disappeared up the stairs.
If all worked out as it should, his men would arrive on the morrow and they could better deal with Elspeth's tormenters and quickly solve her problems. But, oddly, he did not look forward to being done with helping her.
∞∞∞
The next morn after breakfast, Cyrus and his men went outside to make defense plans while Elspeth created a plan of her own. In the cellar, she slipped her rolled deeds from their hiding place within a silver case, hidden in one of the old olive jars.
She carried the deeds upstairs into the study, removed them from the silver case and unrolled them. They were all here, except for her son's deed for Greymont, which she'd hidden at the castle.
