He didn’t wait to see how Cecil took the threat. The simple truth was that he did not care. The pack of lies Cecil had fed to his employers had brought him there—had led him to Polly. Or perhaps that was fate. He imagined that Polly would have chosen the latter as her explanation for it all.
At the top of the stairs, he stopped and looked at Polly’s bed-chamber door for a moment. A sigh of disappointment escaped him. With Cecil just downstairs, the privacy they had enjoyed had come to an end.
He turned to enter the room that had been given to him upon discovering they were snowed in together. The room had been prepared. Fresh linens, free of dust, with firewood already laid in the fireplace and water in the pitcher on the washstand. Some of those things could be attributed to Polly’s belief that her brother’s return was imminent, but not all of them. It was as if she had known that he would be staying.
“I did.”
At the sound of her voice, he looked over his shoulder. “You read minds and fortunes?”
“Just yours,” she said. “And what you were thinking was quite obvious. It’s one of those peculiarities I mentioned to you. The ones that made it so very difficult for the members of my extended family to tolerate my presence in their homes.”
He turned to face her fully then, but he didn’t step closer to her. Temptation was something they could not afford and having her within arm’s reach was something he could not trust himself to do. “How? How do you know? And do not tell me that I am not ready for the answers.”
She dropped her head, a smile playing about her lips. “I wish I could give you an answer. But I just know things. They appear in my mind and there is a certainty about them, a feeling of rightness, that is undeniable. That is how I knew your name. It is also how I knew that you would come here and the snow would force you to stay. It’s how I knew we would become lovers before you even arrived here… and is how I know that my brother will return. Sometime tomorrow.”
Oliver leaned back against the wall. “I see.”
“It doesn’t change anything about us. Or, rather, it doesn’t have to.”
It was the vulnerability he heard in her voice, the hint of fear that she might be rejected once more for her ‘peculiarities’, that softened his voice when he spoke, “It does change things, Polly.”
She looked up then, her eyes wide, and then her expression shifted into one of practiced neutrality. “I see. I understand, of course. I know it can be burdensome for those around me. Poor Claymore has taken care of me despite the costs—no one else should have to.”
“Is that what you think? That I’d walk away from you because of this?”
“Yes. I can’t imagine why you would not,” she admitted softly.
Oliver shook his head in bemusement. “When I said it changes things, Polly, I meant that it makes everything between us more special—it makes you more special. You’ve experienced something unique and powerful throughout your life and yet, despite the doubts, the scoffs, and the jeers of all those around you, you’ve remained strong in your belief in yourself and your abilities. I think that is entirely remarkable. And long before Cecil darkened your door, I was considering all the various ways I might be able to keep you with me.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Oh.”
Temptation be damned.Oliver surged forward, closing the distance between them, and swept her into his arms. He kissed her as if his life depended on it. It certainly felt as if his future did.
The kiss went on for what might have been forever or could have only been seconds. Time seemed to stretch and bend until it lost all meaning.
And then the spell was entirely broken by a high-pitched bark. Elspeth had given up her spot by the fire rather than endure Cecil’s company.
Releasing her, Oliver stepped back. “There is time to figure out our future together, Polly. Just know that we will have one. But for now, go into your room and lock the door—against me and Cecil.”
Polly smiled up at him. “I’d rather lock my door with you on the other side of it with me.”
“Not with him here. I won’t give him ammunition to use against you.”
It was an undeniable truth but she accepted it less than gracefully with a loud snort. “As if he needs more. Come on, Elspeth!”
The dog gave a yip but remained stubbornly at Oliver’s feet.
“Traitorous hussy,” Polly accused with a laugh. “Fine. At least someone will be warming your bed tonight. Replaced by a flea-ridden trollop.”
Oliver waited in the hall until he heard the lock snick. Only then did he retreat to his own chamber, Elspeth at his heels.
TEN
December 19th—The Wee Hours…
Cecil climbed the stairs slowly, carefully skipping the fourth step as it squeaked abominably. He’d learned that when visiting there years earlier. There had been a pretty maid who helped take care of the place before Claymore had taken possession of it. He’d often slipped upstairs to the attic room she had occupied. Then she’d given birth to a bastard and he’d shipped her and the brat off to America never to be seen or heard from again.
But he wasn’t after a maid that time. No. He had his sights set on far rarer game. He knew what threats to use to make Polly cooperate. She and her solicitor had made their mutual affection very apparent. But that also allowed Cecil, once he’d curbed his own jealousy, to see the benefit of their entanglement. Before, Claymore had been Polly’s greatest weakness and had, courtesy of his work with The East India Company, been well out of Cecil’s reach when he’d wanted to gain control over Polly… and the stone circle in the woods beyond the house.
