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“Wait.”
Shoulders taut, he pivoted to face his bride. “What is it?”
“Before you take your leave, I have several questions I need answered. For one thing, where is my room? And Noelle’s, for that matter? Not to mention the kitchen and the schoolroom?” As she spoke, Brigitte lay a restraining palm on Noelle’s shoulder, perceiving—and understanding—the child’s restlessness. After all, she’d been confined for hours: first waiting in the church with Eric, next standing by while the vows were being exchanged, and last, sitting still for the carriage ride home. As a result, she was a coiled spring ready to explode. And if she did … well, Brigitte wasn’t eager to see Eric’s reaction.
“I won’t take much of your time, my lord,” Brigitte continued, using her unoccupied hand to scoop up Noelle’s bag. “But as you yourself just said, the manor is huge. So unless you have a map to provide me, I will need some instructions.”
Eric’s gaze delved into her’s, his expression unreadable. At last, he nodded. “Fine.” He stalked back and relieved her of Noelle’s traveling bag. “Follow me.”
“Fuzzy and I aren’t staying in that pink room,” Noelle announced as they rounded the first-floor landing. “It’s ugly and Fuzzy hates it. He doesn’t much like the green room either. It’s filled with dumb statues that don’t do anything Except break.”
Brigitte saw the corded muscles in Eric’s neck go rigid— the only indication that he’d heard Noelle’s outspoken stipulations. She herself had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
They headed down a seemingly unending hallway.
“The blue room is my favorite,” Noelle continued. “It has a big window and long drapes. When I’m bored, I use them to climb down to the ground.”
“You destroyed those drapes during your last stay,” Eric returned icily. “You cut them to shreds to make a winter coat for that tattered thing.” He jerked his head in Fuzzy’s direction, never stopping or breaking stride.
“Fuzzy isn’t a ‘that.’ He’s a ‘he.’”
“Nevertheless, the drapes are gone. The remnants have since been carried off by real animals. Ask your governess to order new ones.” Abruptly, he halted. “The blue room,” he announced, flinging open the door and depositing Noelle’s bag within.
Brigitte peeked inside. “It’s lovely,” she murmured, appraising the canopied bed and wide—though blatantly curtainless—windows with a smile. “Very well, if this is to be Noelle’s room”—turning, she glanced thoughtfully across the hall—“I’ll take the chamber directly opposite it. In a flash, she sprinted over and reached for the door handle.
“No’”
Eric’s command fired like a bullet. Jolted, Brigitte backed away, her eyes wide and questioning.
“That room is not to be disturbed,” he thundered, advancing on her. “Ever. It is locked. It will remain so. Is that clear?”
Wordlessly, Brigitte nodded.
“Good. If you wish to be near Noelle, take the room next to hers.” Eric gripped Brigitte’s elbow and ushered her down to the next room. “I’m sure you’ll find these to your liking. If not, there are a dozen other bedchambers to choose from. One will doubtless suit you.”
Catching her breath, Brigitte inquired, “Which chambers are yours?”
His brows arched, anger evidently eclipsed by surprise. “None of these. I reside in another wing. Why?”
“Because I want to know precisely where Noelle and I are prohibited from entering. That way, we can prevent unpleasant displays of temper like the one you just subjected us to.”
A flicker of something—was it admiration?—flashed in Eric’s dark eyes. “I suppose that’s prudent. My quarters are at the far end of the corridor in the east wing. As to your limitations, other than the bedchamber you just approached and, of course, my own, you’re welcome to frequent any room you like.” He cleared his throat. “Treat the manor as your home.”
“Thank you,” she replied soberly, searching the harsh lines of his face. “Now, if you will just tell me where the kitchen is, I shan’t trouble you again. Noelle, Fuzzy, and I will settle in and begin to get acquainted. Perhaps we’ll explore the grounds. Unless, of course, Noelle shatters that lovely lamp on her nightstand—the one she’s rolled to its side and Fuzzy is vaulting over. In which case, we’ll spend the afternoon sweeping up slivers of glass. Right, Noelle?”
Noelle jumped, stunned to realize Brigitte was aware of her actions. “How did you know what Fuzzy and I were doing?” she demanded, staring at Brigitte’s profile. “You’re looking at my uncle.”
“I’m smart.” Brigitte grinned, turning to face her. “And so are you. So I’m sure you’ll agree it would be a shame to waste the remainder of this crisp autumn day scooping up pieces of the very lamp by which I planned to read you a bedtime story. I admit that Fuzzy’s antics are amusing. But are they worth sacrificing an outing and an hour’s reading adventure? The choice, little tempest, is yours. And of course, Fuzzy’s.”
Noelle’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “You’re not going to punish me?”
“For what? You haven’t done anything—yet.” A conspiratorial wink.
Slowly, Noelle stood the lamp back in its original spot. “Fuzzy likes to jump,” she informed Brigitte, twining a lock of hair about her finger. “But he likes leaf piles better than lamps.”
“I can understand that. Dashing about the woods presents far more exciting, and safer, possibilities than skipping about a small nightstand.” Brigitte’s smile reached out to Noelle, enveloped her in its warmth. “If you’ll give me a moment with your uncle, I promise to help you amass the tallest mound of leaves you’ve ever seen—one that will impress even Fuzzy. Would that be acceptable?”
A decisive nod.
