CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eve turned slowly, taking in the room around her. Lit by candles and a roaring fire,
it was small, but the furniture was well made, even sumptuous. Leather seats and carved wood tables. She had once more changed locations and, it
appeared, finances. This was a wealthy
man’s retreat.
“My lady, I thought to never see you again.”
The voice was strangely familiar, but without the
Scottish burr and urgency. The fleeing
Jacobite…
A man’s bowed head and extended hand met her gaze. His red hair was cropped short, fashionable
for her time, but not here. Now men wore
wigs. His shirt was fine lawn with
ruffles down the front. Instead of
feminine, the design was very masculine with the front open to his chest and
showing auburn hairs curled enticingly against flat muscles. Would his abs be
ripped? Very likely. Plain brown pantaloons hugged his lean hips
and white stockings showed powerful calves displayed to perfection by his
‘perfect leg’. A man worth returning to.
She put her hand in his. “My lord, am I in France?” His lips brushed her skin, sending tremors up
her arm. Now she understood why the
gallant gesture was so popular. It was
touching that created sensation, yet did not flaunt the conventions.
He released her and straightened, standing a good four
inches taller, even though she still wore her spiked heels. “Nay.
You are in a different room, but still in the Meryngham Castle. I am a guest, a distant cousin of the current
Earl and his soon to deliver wife.” A
smile twisted his fine, full lips. “With
luck, she bears the heir.”
“Your heir,” Eve murmured.
Sadness darkened his eyes, turning them to the grey of
a stormy sea. “’Tis better this
way. My loyalties have always been over
the water.” He shook himself. “But enough of this. A birthing is no time for melancholy. Particularly this one.”
She nodded. “As
you wish.”
“What I wish for, Lady in Green, is another kiss. I have never forgotten the last, though it be
ten years ago.” His gaze ran over her as
he moved in. “I knew last time you were
indecently dressed, but I never imagined this.”
His voice ended on a raspy note as his hands grasped her shoulders and
pulled her to him.
Eve gasped just as his mouth took hers. His tongue invaded, bringing a taste of
finest Scotch and mint. She shivered as
her body responded. With a sigh of
pleasure her fingers tangled in the fine lace ruffles at his nape.
But enough! She
wasn’t here to dally with him. With
another sigh, only regret this time, she pushed against his hard chest. He let her go, but his heated perusal did
nothing to calm the fire that flared between them.
“As tempting as your kiss is, I am here for another
reason-”
“The missing emeralds.”
He reached out and one finger traced her collar bone where the emeralds
once rested. “I wondered.”
She took a deep breath and tried to bury her reaction
to his touch. She loved Sebastian. “What do you mean?”
He turned away and moved to a coat lying over the back
of a chair. He dug in one of the copious
pockets. Coming back to her, he held out
his hand.
“Oh!” Eve stared
at the jewelry nestled in his palm.
Emeralds, diamonds and gold winked and sparked in the flickering
light.
“Aye. ‘Twas
given to me for services rendered. I
brought it with me, intending to give it to
the mother-to-be, but now I think it belongs to you.”
He nodded. “I do
not know what has happened, but my gut says the necklace must be found. I am only sorry I have only this piece. I would give you all if I could.”
She saw the need in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t
see in the dark of her last visit. “Will
you be all right?”
He nodded, his attention never wavering from her face,
as though he stored every feature, every emotion. “I am a chevalier of France now. Not as exalted as an English Earl, but better
than it might have been.”
“What year is this?”
Sudden fear curdled her stomach.
“Seventeen fifty-six.”
He grimaced. “It took me awhile
to earn my place, I know-“
She reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling the
muscles flex beneath her fingers.
“Please, please be careful. Never
make France your permanent home. Promise
me.”
He stared at her.
“Do you know something?”
Eve bit her lip.
Should she tell him? Would it
matter? Sparkles danced around him, as
though her decision called them into being.
“Promise me…”
1 comment:
I love that Eve tries to warn him -- and I'm very, very glad to know she succeeds. Are you going to write his story, Georgina?
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