Page 45 of A Lady in Name

His thoughts kept him in bouts of wakefulness with intermittent periods when he knew he dozed. He awoke yet again to continuing darkness, and knew immediately some alien sound had disturbed him. Someone was stirring. Too early for servants.

Without hesitation, he flung off the bedcovers and groped for his dressing gown. Dragging it on over his nightshirt, he found his tinder box on the table by the bed and relit the candle.

Stefan stepped softly from his room and crept along the corridor towards the gallery, from where a faint light emanated. When he reached the stairs, he saw the gleam coming from the parlour he had hired for the duration of their stay. Stefan knew then his senses had not deceived him. It would not be Dion wandering about in the night.

He padded lightly down the stairs and made for the open parlour door. Lucy was a shadow in the window recess where she had opened the shutters to stare out upon darkness. Her candle set upon the table threw a golden glow on to the skin of her profile. Stefan felt a lurch in his chest.

“Lucy?”

Even the soft tone he used startled her, for she jumped, turning quickly. Stefan saw the naked misery in her face, and all thought of the day’s events left him.

“You will catch your death,” he uttered, crossing quickly towards her.

She did not move as Stefan closed in, shutting off the candlelight with his own shadow. He paused, eyeing the pallid moon that was her face, mesmerised by the glitter of her eyes in the darkness.

Without will, he reached for her, drawing her to him and gently resting her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “So very sorry, Lucy.”

She did not resist, sinking into his embrace so easily Stefan felt it the most natural thing in the world. For a moment there was only warmth and comfort, and the draining away of discontent. Then Stefan felt her shift and pull away.

“Let me go.”

He did so, moving to one side so the light fell on her face again. Her eyes glistened and Stefan was conscious of a wish to drag her back into his embrace.

Lucy brushed past him, as if the close confinement of the window recess troubled her. She halted by the table, and her features fell into half shadow. Stefan had set his candle down by hers and brightness gleamed on the one side of her face. The effect was intoxicating, leaving Stefan breathless.

“I didn’t mean it.” The breath was uneven in Lucy’s throat, but she struggled to express what she must. “What I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Stefan was looking at her oddly, his eyes flickering in the candlelight. “I know.”

“Nevertheless,” she persisted, “you were right. I should not have said it. Papa would have called it wicked in me to be wishing myself into an early grave.”

He took a step towards her, and Lucy’s stomach muscles clenched.

“You were not wishing yourself dead, Lucy. You were expressing your natural agitation. I reacted out of all proportion to the event, God knows why!”

Lucy could not forbear a tiny smile. “I should be the last person to hold that against you. I believe you have on several occasions complained of my temper.”

“Your passionate nature, rather,” he agreed, his lips curving. “Which I am beginning to welcome.”

A roughened quality in his voice called to something deep within Lucy she did not understand. She felt it only, and the pit-a-pat of her heartbeat rattled in her head. Without knowing how it happened, Lucy found herself standing toe to toe with Stefan, her gaze locked with his. The rhythm of her pulse had gone utterly awry and she felt as if the very air crackled between them.

Stefan’s gaze roved her face, resting for a moment on the lower lip of her parted mouth. A heady sensation had him in thrall. Compulsion seized him. Then Lucy spoke, a tremor in her voice, rich with tragedy.

“Was this how it happened with my mother?”

She had as well have thrown a douche of cold water over his head. Stefan stepped smartly out of range, where he could not reach her. The ache that had arisen at his loins subsided. He groped for the blandness which served him so well.

“Go to bed, Lucy.”

A change came over her features. From where he now stood, she was illuminated full face by the twin candles. Her eyes were pools of darkness, seeming enormous in the pale glow of her skin. Stefan could almost feel the emanation of the tragic air that was so completely Lucy. Her voice was a low pattern of sound.

“As simply as that? I thought you meant to kiss me, yet how readily you hold aloof. Unlike your uncle. He did not spare poor Alice.”

Stefan infused authority into his tone. “Lucy, go to bed. It is very late. We will discuss this in the morning.”

To his consternation, she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. The stubborn taint was in her voice. “No. I want to discuss it now.”