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Myles knew he should stop her. He didn’t want her to turn to him because she needed him to protect her. While he wanted her to consider him more than an acquaintance, and wanted considerably more than a friendship, he wanted her to want him – the man. However, when she looked at him with that raw need in her eyes, tinged with a little hope and expectation, he couldn’t deny her.
He warned himself to take his time and not rush her. She had already had one fright today and, as far as he knew, was untried. However, when his lips touched hers and sparks flew he was engulfed in flames of desire which built rapidly and consumed them both. He couldn’t pull away. Common sense warned him not to let the kiss progress too far, but when one dainty hand slid into his unbound hair and tugged him toward her, he knew he was lost. A shiver swept down his spine that stole all of his restraint and replaced it with a hunger that refused to be denied. With a groan, his lips slid overs hers commanding her complete surrender.
He wanted all of her. Not the timid, polite young woman who had sat at the breakfast table looking too afraid to converse with people, but the woman who had the strength to fight off a cold-blooded killer single-handedly, and still have the strength and determination to lay claim to him. That was what he suspected she was doing and he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he was glad of it because it made his need for her a permanent part of who he was, what he was. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – deny it anymore. Not to her, and most certainly not to himself. At some point over the past day or two, past, present and personal circumstances aside, she had started to matter to him. Far more than any female had ever done before. While it worried him because he knew his growing adoration of her meant magnificent changes in his life, he also knew that his dedication to her was something he couldn’t deny. If he did so he would bring himself untold misery. If he allowed the killer to reap his reward Myles knew he would lose something most precious; something he knew he could never replace: Estelle.
How long they stayed on the floor for he wasn’t sure. He lifted his head when the clock on the mantle chimed two. It was then that he realised she was wearing nothing more than a thin nightgown, and was growing colder by the minute. Although he was holding her as tightly as he could, it still wasn’t enough. Still, when he looked at the bed it held little enthusiasm. He doubted Estelle would have any wish to sleep in there again either. Before he could talk himself out of it, Myles slowly eased away from the curved temptation of her mouth.
“We need to get some sleep,” he whispered regretfully. He watched her nod but then look at the bed doubtfully. It assured him that his decision was the right one. “Come on.”
He nudged her to one side and helped her stand before he hauled himself to his feet. Without stopping to think he took a moment to yank a blanket off the bed and tucked it carefully about her shoulders before he caught her hand in his. Sweeping his gun off the floor, he tugged her toward the door.
“Where are we going?” she whispered. The thought of having to leave the room was terrifying but
she knew she must at some point. She could not remain trapped in there forever. If she was honest, she didn’t want to be in the room anymore, but where else could she go?
She had her answer soon enough when Myles carefully opened the door and peered out into the corridor.
Cranbury was standing there in his nightgown, a candle aloft with a footman at either elbow.
“Make sure the men are stationed in the corridors. Someone has been in her room and done this.” He pointed to Estelle’s neck. “Keep watch. I want a constant guard on the corridors morning and night, understand? Anybody caught out of their beds is to be confined in the cellar until they can be questioned. Nobody moves from now on throughout the night, do you understand?” When the men nodded, he turned around only to pause and look at them. “Make sure you are armed.”
The men looked at each other but didn’t object. Myles waited long enough for them to go in search of weapons then he tugged Estelle relentlessly toward the door to his room.
Estelle’s stomach flipped nervously as she stepped into the room and saw the rumpled bed facing her. The room was entirely personal to Myles, and reeked of masculinity. The walls were draped in landscape portraits of the grounds and house. The décor was deep oak, furnished with crimson brocade. While the room was neat and tidy, it was liberally adorned with gentleman’s paraphernalia; a cravat draped over a retiring screen, and a pair of riding boots beside the dresser over in the far corner of the room, together with a waistcoat, one she recognised from yesterday evening, draped over the back of a high-backed chair before the fireplace. It gave the room a cosy feel, in spite of its ostentation.
Myles closed the door quietly and locked it before he motioned for her to stay where she was and searched the entire room. When he returned to her he drew her toward him, his hands bunched into the material of the blanket engulfing her.
Estelle stepped toward him willingly. She had no idea what his intentions were but wasn’t going to protest to any demands he placed upon her.
“You are safe in here. I will keep my gun with me, and won’t allow another living soul into this room. Tonight, there is just you and me,” he whispered. He rested his forehead against hers for several moments while he waited for her to protest. When she merely nodded and remained in his embrace, he swept her into his arms.
Estelle felt the softness of the bed beneath her. Nerves began to build as she waited for him to join her. To her surprise, he tucked the covers around her and lay onto the bed next to her before her gathered her into his arms.
“Are you not intending to er-” Her cheeks flamed at how wanton she sounded. Could she ask him if he was going to join her? She knew she shouldn’t.
He must think me terribly wanton already, she mused with a sigh.
“It would be a bit difficult for me to explain why the killer got away again if he did manage to get in here and I was wrapped up in the blankets with you, don’t you think?” Myles mused wryly.
He tried to put some humour into the situation because the need to join her beneath the sheets and eradicate the lingering fear in her eyes was so strong he knew he had to lie on the covers to stop himself from indulging in the needs of the flesh. Needs he knew he would regret later, not least because he wanted – needed – them to start their relationship on the proper footing. He had never ruined a young woman in his life and simply walked away and he wasn’t going to start with Estelle. He didn’t want her to have any regrets about them as a couple. More importantly, he didn’t want her to offer herself to him because she needed comfort.
It was going to be a test of his own forbearance he knew, but he contented himself with drawing her into his arms, blankets and all, and settling her against his shoulder while he listened to the clock ticking rhythmically into the silence.
It took several minutes before she began to relax in his arms, but whether she was asleep or not, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She was beside him. That was all that mattered.
All he had to do now was keep her that way.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The following morning, everything changed again. Estelle’s cheeks were aflame when she daringly followed Myles out of the bed chamber as close to noon as it was possible to get. She felt terribly wanton, and in spite of nothing of a more intimate nature happening. In spite of herself, she struggled to stem a giggle when Myles popped his head out of his door and looked up and down the hallway in search of guards with overly dramatic furtiveness.
“This is your house you know,” she teased.
Myles grinned at her unrepentantly. It was wonderful to hear her laugh. It was the first time he had heard that melodic sound and it was infectious. If he was honest, he felt ridiculously foolish behaving the way he was. She was right; this was his house. However, he didn’t want the servants to gossip about the new guest, especially given that they didn’t know she was going to be their new mistress at some point in the not too distant future. He had made his mind up on that fact during the night as he had lain upon the bed, wide awake, listening to the creaking of the house all about him. It had sounded like a coiled beast settling back into slumber. At first, he had been convinced he had heard footsteps in the hallway outside, but had put it down to his imagination. He had certainly no intention of leaving the room to find out. It was only when the clock had chimed and he had heard whispering that he had realised it was the footmen changing guard. At that point, something inside him had begun to relax and, in spite of the gun resting on the table beside the bed, he had relaxed enough to fall asleep.
Before he could open the door again, a heavy thudding sounded on it. His frown was deep when he yanked it open. It was only when his father’s surprised gaze landed on Estelle that he realised his mistake. Still, Barnabas was too preoccupied to protest.
“Something is wrong,” he declared flatly and without preamble.
