He started up the stairs and could hear Ella running after him. She latched onto his arm. “Leo, do not jump to conclusions.”
“Too late.” He moved away from her and opened the tall, wooden doors.
“Leo! What about…”
He glanced back only once, taking in her pale face, then closed the doors.
Leo moved into the long, dark hall and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. Halfway down the corridor stood his grandfather, his gaze focused on a portrait that hung above. Leo started toward the old man, dreading the confrontation more with each step.
“Your grandmother,” the old man said, without glancing at him.
Leo studied the portrait of a statuesque young woman with golden hair and amber eyes. She had a soft, mischievous smile as she leaned against a Grecian urn. “When did she die?”
“She didn’t.”
Leo was stunned into silence. In the time he’d been home, not once had the old man mentioned her. He’d assumed she was dead.
“Where…where is she?” A vague memory of a woman who smelt of roses came to mind. Sparkling amber eyes…like his father’s…like his own.
His grandfather sighed. “Leo, I won’t lie to you; she isn’t well. I placed her in an estate in Scotland where she could rest. Your cousin is there with her. Your father’s death destroyed her.”
“My cousin?” he demanded.
“Yes, you have a cousin, a woman named Beatrice. A few years younger than you, I believe.”
Leo shook his head, trying to bring order to his confusing thoughts. “Henry has a sister?”
“Oh, no. Beatrice was the daughter of my youngest son, after your father and Henry’s father. He died in a riding accident. Only had time to produce one child, and unfortunately it was a female.”
Leo thought that comment odd but was too shocked to respond.
“I suppose I should write to your grandmother, tell her you’re here.”
Leo stiffened. “She doesn’t know? You never told her I lived?”
Merda
. That was just like his grandfather, too embarrassed to admit he was his relative.
The old man’s eyes shimmered with tears, and Leo’s anger wavered. “Leo, I’ve done so many things wrong. And I am sorry, but I’ve only been trying to protect those I love.”
Leo averted his gaze. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, couldn’t seem to think. He certainly didn’t understand the old man’s actions, but who was he to judge? “I have something to show you.” He held out the arrow.
“It’s…it’s an arrow. Well made,” his grandfather said, taking the object. “Looks medieval.”
“Ella found it where I spotted the shooter.”
“You think it’s his?”
“Yes,” Leo replied.
His grandfather took in a deep breath and sank onto a bench. “It doesn’t give us much to identify him.”
“No, but it does tell us that he uses a bow, which is strange enough when he could have used a pistol.”
His grandfather nodded. “Noise maybe? Perhaps he thought he could sneak in this way and leave unseen.”
“Do you think he could have been a local man? Do you know of anyone who would use bows such as this?”
“An expensive wood,” his grandfather muttered, his gaze narrowed on the arrow.
“Yes.” What was the old man thinking? “And aimed at me, I assume.”
His grandfather’s attention jumped to Leo. “You? But why in the world would anyone want to harm you?”
Leo resisted the urge to sigh. Really, was everyone in England so naïve?
“Do you have enemies, Leo?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“I see,” his grandfather whispered, dropping his gaze to the parquet floor. “I’m not dense. You are thinking of Henry.”
Leo didn’t say a thing at first, merely let the idea sink into his grandfather’s mind.
“Henry is…Henry is difficult at times. He’s very sure of himself. A strong man, just like his father was. You must understand, Leo, Henry loves this castle, this history, his heritage. He thought he would run all of this someday and was trained to do so. You can’t expect him to just roll over and hand it to you with a please and thank you.”
Leo’s ire grew in heated waves. “So he is justified in wanting to kill me?”
He rested his hand on Leo’s shoulder. “No, no, as always I’ve said the wrong words. What I meant to say is that Henry loves his heritage and you are part of that heritage. He would never harm you. His father searched for you for weeks, Leo.”
Leo’s jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to slam his fist into the wall. The old man was blind. Truly blind. He’d never believe Henry capable of murder unless he caught him in the act.
His grandfather shuffled to his feet. “Well then. We’ll post footmen around the property and ask in town if anyone is familiar with a bow and arrow.”
Apparently, he’d get no help from his grandfather in proving Henry guilty. He was still, even now surrounded by family, alone in this world.
“Were you not supposed to meet Ella for lessons?”
Leo swore under his breath. He’d be late again. He didn’t bother to bow to his grandfather before he swept from the room.
Ella sat on the window seat with her knees drawn to her chest. With a sigh, she gazed out onto the rose gardens. What she wouldn’t do to go down to the ocean. What she wouldn’t do to visit Fran. What she wouldn’t do to have Leo willingly come to a lesson on time.
The clock chimes struck, drawing her attention. Leo was late, or not coming; she wasn’t sure which. She certainly wasn’t surprised. She’d be more surprised if he showed up eager to learn and on time.
“Are you not supposed to be teaching me something boring and unnecessary?”
Ella jumped from the seat. Leo stood there in brown trousers and a white linen shirt that hugged his muscled chest. He’d changed since their jaunt outside. He wore no jacket, and his shirt was open at the collar, showing sun-kissed skin. He looked completely inappropriate, and blast it all, if she didn’t admire him.
“You are incredibly amusing, my lord.” Tilting her chin, she swept across the room. “Please take your seat.”
Leo settled on the chair next to her, his fresh, pine scent swirling around her and making her forget her lessons. With fingers that trembled, she opened the book closest to her. He leaned near and frowned.
“
History of the British Empire
” His breath was warm on her cheek, and her stomach did that strange flip it’d been doing since she first met him. “Sounds as fascinating as learning how to use utensils.”
Ella resisted the urge to shove her elbow into his gut. “Could you move back please?”
He quirked a brow, his lips curved, and his amusement washed over her. She realized she could finally read him once again. But there was something more underneath his mirth…a heat…a need for her? Slowly, he settled back against his chair. “So sorry to have disturbed your space.”
She could barely breathe. Surely he didn’t want her, did he? Her gaze fell to his lips, and the memory of their kiss came to mind. Blimey, she wanted to taste him again. “Did you show your grandfather the arrow?” she rushed out, eager to think of something else.
The laughter in his eyes faded, and the amusement was instantly replaced with disappointment. “Yes.”
“And?”
“And he was completely adamant that Henry couldn’t have done the deed.”
Ella frowned and leaned back, staring unblinkingly at the book before her. “Well, perhaps he’s right. Maybe he wouldn’t. You don’t really know Henry, do you?”
Leo released a wry laugh and shook his head. “Really, you two are amusing. Who else would wish me dead?”
“Could someone have stolen the arrows from your grandfather or Henry?”
Leo sighed and raked a hand through his long locks. “Perhaps. Are you going to teach or not?”
Obviously, he didn’t want to discuss Henry. “Of course.” She brought the book closer. “What do you know about Parliament?”
“Nothing,” Leo replied, stacking his hands behind his head. His shirt stretched across his muscled chest, and Ella’s breath stuck in her throat.
She tore her attention from the man. “Well, then we’ll start with the British empire in India.” She’d chosen the topic because she thought it may be of interest. But now she wasn’t sure. Did he want to discuss India?
“In the 1600s, a group of British traders, called the East India Company, traveled to India to trade.” She glanced at Leo to see him studying his fingernails. “Leo, are you paying attention?”
“Not in the least,” he replied.
Ella sighed. The man had to make everything difficult. “You may need to know this at some point, you know.”
“Why would I ever need to know about the British invasion of India?”
“You will eventually have to sit in the House.”
He met her gaze. “I thought we already established that I was not staying?”
Her heart felt heavy at that statement. Didn’t he understand his grandfather wanted him here? This was his birthright, something thousands of men would love to have inherited. “Tell me about India,” she said, deciding it was best to change the subject.
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You said you lived in the jungle. Is it all jungle there?”
“No,” he said, staring out the windows. “Some of it is very dry.”
“What about the jungle? What was it like?” Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked, but she couldn’t quite help herself. She’d always dreamt of other countries, but had barely been out of her village.
“Loud, murky.” His eyes seemed to glaze as if he’d somehow left his body. “Light rarely penetrated the foliage. It was thick, immense, dominating. When I was a child, I felt so small next to those massive trees. Leaves so large, you could hide underneath. It smelled wet, like dirt and sweet blossoms and overripe fruit mixed together. I hated that smell when we first arrived, but was forced to get used to it.”
Enthralled, Ella leaned closer to him. “And the animals?”
He glanced at her. “When I first visited, I rarely saw a thing. Every animal blends within the trees. But after a while, the shapes took form and I could pick out the beasts more easily. I suppose they became used to me. A boy was no threat.”
“What did you see?”
He smiled, as if amused by her curiosity. “Panthers, snakes, monkeys. Brilliantly colored birds. Their noise is overwhelming at times.”
She twisted her skirt around her fingers, wondering how far to push the subject. “You said the first time you were there was for four years. What did you mean? You were there more than once?”
His amusement fled, followed by a heavy, deep sensation. “Four years the first time, two years the second.”
“But where were you in between?”
He averted his gaze, and she felt an odd, bitter, and cold sensation. Was he ashamed?
“In a village.”
“But…but why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you ask for help?”
His ire washed over her right before he snapped, “Can you just teach?”
She stiffened, surprised by his sudden anger. “Could I show you something first?”
His narrowed gaze slid to her. “Go on.”
She took her lower lip between her teeth and slipped her fingers under the neckline of her dress. Feeling the cool metal, she pulled the necklace forward. “Can you tell me what this is?”
His brows snapped together, and she felt his shock, cold and piercing. He reached out, his fingers brushing her upper chest as he took the round pendant in hand. Her body immediately reacted to his touch, to his nearness. Heat rushed through her veins making her want to shift in her seat.
“It’s an Indian god.” Their eyes clashed. His suspicion and confusion swept through her, making her mind buzz. He flipped the pendant over, studying the back. “This, I have no idea what it is, although the shape seems familiar.” A circular indentation, the edges had a scalloped design, almost like a flower. “Where did you get it?” It was not a question of mere curiosity, but a demand.
She tugged the pendent from his fingers and tucked it back under her bodice, safely hidden.
“Well, well, look here. Once again I’ve interrupted a lesson.” Henry’s voice crawled down her spine. The man knew precisely when to appear. He strolled across the room, and leaned over Ella, so close his spicy perfume overtook Leo’s natural scent. She resisted the urge to lean back.
“British history, aren’t we moving along? Soon Leo will have his alphabet memorized.”
Slowly, Leo’s fingers curled, and Ella knew that if she wasn’t present, he’d have pounded his fist into his cousin’s face.
“Do you even know how to read, Leo?” Henry asked, his eyes shining with laughter. Suddenly, Ella wanted to pound
her
fist into the man.
“Of course he does,” she snapped. Surely he knew; he’d read the title, hadn’t he?
“Really, your governess coming to your rescue yet again. Will she accompany you to your Parliament meetings? Will she rap the knuckles of those who cross you?” Slowly, he moved around the room. “Or does Ella provide more than just knowledge?”
Ella’s face heated.
Heated anger flared from Leo and struck Ella in the chest like a fist. He stood so fast his chair tumbled backward. His arm shot out, and he wrapped his fingers around his cousin’s neck. Henry’s eyes bulged, and his fingers clawed at Leo’s arm.
“Leo, no!” Ella cried.
He didn’t look at her, but kept his gaze focused on his cousin. Henry gasped for air. Was his face turning blue? Blast it, Leo would kill Henry. And then she felt it, a calmness like a cool breeze. He was in control. Her eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t kill him; he was warning him, showing his cousin who was more powerful, just like animals in the wild showed their dominance. Still, if his grandfather walked in, she doubted the man would see it that way.
Ella slipped between them and rested her hand on the side of Leo’s face. “Leo, please, stop.”
His gaze dropped to her, and she saw the flash of indecision. He didn’t want to listen to her, a mere woman.
“What is this?” Lord Roberts cried from the doorway.
Ella almost groaned. Too late. Leo dropped his arm, and Henry fell to the floor. Without a word, Leo brushed past his grandfather and strolled out of the room.
Ella leaned against a crumbling rock wall and gazed out over a field kissed with purple and yellow wildflowers. But the brilliant blooms paled in comparison to the man who stood in the middle of the meadow. She’d missed him yesterday. She could admit, if only to herself, she enjoyed watching him. The way the early morning sun glinted off his hair. The way his clothes fit his muscled body to perfection. Unwillingly, she followed the strong lines of his body, from the broad planes of his back, down to the hard curve of his backside. Her face heated, and she jerked her gaze up.
He’d set up his easel and slapped a brilliant blue across the canvas, which meant he was upset. And she didn’t blame him after the incident with his cousin. She hadn’t seen him since the confrontation, and to be honest, she missed his company. The way he listened to her as if she had something important to say, the way his intense gaze held her, no matter what silly thought slipped from her lips. This morning, worried and impatient, she decided to search for him. Now, seeing his muscles flex as he painted, seeing the bold, angry colors on the canvas, she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right decision.
He should be with her right now, studying books on Parliament. She didn’t believe for a second that he’d go back to the Continent or India. Not after yesterday morning and the way he’d stared at the castle as if he’d finally come home. He belonged here, and it was up to her to make him see that, to make him realize how much he had to offer his stuffy family. Yes, it was her duty to see him settled because she cared, blast it.
With a sigh, she clambered over the rock wall and dusted off her gray skirt. Best to be blunt with Leo. No beating around the bush. She trudged through the flowers, the crunch of weeds under her slippers no doubt alerting him to her presence. But he didn’t turn. Her feet faltered when she felt the waves of anger pulse from him. Swallowing hard, she pushed on and stopped only when she reached his side.
She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and tried to calm her trembling hands. His feelings seeped into her body of their own accord, and she had the unsettling realization that she couldn’t prevent them from invading. “I missed you yesterday.”
Silence.
“You’re supposed to be studying right now.”
He slashed a bold red across the paint-splattered canvas.
“In two hours, you have a riding lesson.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a merry sound. “I know how to ride.”
“Yes, but not the proper way, like a gentleman of means.”
He swished his brush around in a glob of orange paint. “Ella, I’m hurt, really. You do not think of me as a gentleman?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Her face heated. “Of course, I only meant…”
His jaw clenched, and a cool thread of annoyance replaced his anger. “I know what you meant.”
Her own anger flared, replacing his. She was becoming rather tired of this strange castle its strange occupants, and she was most definitely tired of men. “I’m confused; do you wish for me to teach you or not?”
He didn’t respond.
Ella sighed. She didn’t wish to argue with him. She took her lower lip between her teeth as guilt wrapped around her heart and squeezed. He was obviously aware of the way others perceived him, and she didn’t want him to think of her as judgmental as well.
“I am no gentleman, as I reminded you when we had our dancing lesson.”
Instead of frightening her away, her body warmed at the memory. Did he think often of that kiss? Did the memory keep him up at night as it did her? Blast, but she couldn’t quite tell which feelings were his and which were hers. She’d certainly never had a problem deciphering a cat’s emotions from her own, so why was it so difficult with Leo?
“Really, Ella, your persistence is endearing, but you won’t win. When are you going to give in?”
He was being cruel now, although why, she didn’t understand. He should be angry at his cousin, not her. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and delved deeper into his feelings. He wanted to be alone and wanted her to leave, yet at the same time, she was rather sure he wanted her to stay. Her head began to pound with the contradictory emotions. She could easily leave; she should leave for her own sanity. But then he’d be alone, always alone. “I cannot.”
He stilled and looked at her. Paint had splattered like blood across his white shirt, and she thought of the arrow, and his wound. Did the injury pain him? Thoughts of his injury led to thoughts of his stomach, the dips and mountains of pure muscle. What would it feel like to run her fingers over his warm skin?
“Why can’t you?”
She jerked her thoughts back to reality and away from her shameful imagination. “Because I need the coins.”
He laughed again, and this time his eyes crinkled at the corners as if he were truly amused. “My, aren’t we greedy. Are you like my cousin, Ella? Are you like everyone else in this cursed place? And here I thought you were different.”
Her own feelings of anger and shame washed through her, making her body tremble. He turned back to his canvas as if dismissing her entirely. “It’s not that simple. I don’t need money to buy silly things that have no use; I need money for survival.”
He didn’t respond.
Humiliated and ashamed, she started to leave when his words stopped her. “Sit for me. Then I’ll go back and learn my lessons like a good lad.”
Suspicious, she looked over her shoulder. “Sit for you? For a portrait? I thought you only painted…” What did she call his work?
“I can paint portraits. Will you sit or not? We have a mere two hours, as you pointed out.”
What was his game? Did she have a choice but to play along? “What about the arrow? We could be in danger here, out in the open.”
“What should we do, hide in the house for the rest of our lives? Besides, my cousin failed—he’ll wait until the uproar dies down before he tries again. Will you sit for me?”
She didn’t trust him, yet for some reason, she didn’t want to leave. “I…I suppose. Where do you want me?”
He laughed, and her mouth went dry as the heat of desire pulsed from him. That same sensation that had poured from his body at the waterfall. He wanted her, and for some shameful reason that realization brought her pleasure.
“Lie down.”
Dear God! Would he take her here? Now? “On the ground?”
“It won’t kill you, I promise.” He picked up his jacket from a small chair and tossed it to her. “Lie upon that.”
Ella’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t be serious! She wouldn’t, she couldn’t…
“What?” He quirked a brow. “You said I could paint your portrait.”
Relief washed through her, making her knees weak. He didn’t want to be intimate, merely to paint. She spread the garment on the ground, and started to sit.
“Oh, you must have misunderstood. When I said sit for me, I meant nude.”
She glared up at him through narrowed eyes. “That’s not funny.” She started to lower herself to the ground once more when his slow smile stopped her.
“I wasn’t jesting.”
His resolve was hard and strong, like the stone walls of the castle. Her lower lip quivered, and sudden tears burned her eyes. Cruelness seeped from his body, and she knew he would not relent. She suddenly wondered if she knew him at all, and that left her feeling rather alone and scared. She tilted her chin high. “I won’t.” How dare he take his anger out on her when she’d only wanted to help. Her fingers curled into the soft muslin of her skirt, and she turned to leave.
“I suppose it’s not important to you then.”
Keep walking, Ella, keep walking
. “What?” she asked and cursed herself for stopping.
“Whatever it is my grandfather promised you. It must not be very important.”
Fran flashed to mind. Damn him. It didn’t matter what he’d been through; he didn’t have the right to treat her this way.
He met her eyes, and she saw something there, felt something. Just barely underneath the anger…need.
“I will do as you say for the next two weeks,” he said. “If you want me to take notes for three hours while you go on about Parliament, I shall.”
“I will not sit…nude. In my shift only,” she whispered, and the heat of shame swirled low in her belly.
"Your back will be to me. The wildflowers will hide you from view.”
In her shift, in broad daylight with Leo standing there the entire time? Over the shame and embarrassment, there was something more, something unidentifiable…something sinfully intoxicating. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t quite breathe. Excitement? No, of course not. It must be his emotion she felt.
“Women sat for me constantly while I was in Italy,” he murmured as he cleaned a brush. “I suppose on the Continent women are much more free. Nudity is something that is beautiful, not something to be ashamed of.”
It was a challenge, and she knew that, yet still took the bait. “I’m not ashamed.” She rolled her eyes at the blatant lie. Of course she was ashamed. Hadn’t Lady Buckley reminded her over and over that her skin was not to be on display? That a woman’s flesh was an evil temptation?
“Then why not?”
She didn’t respond.
“Two weeks, Ella. I’ll do what you say. I’ll be on time.” She felt his desperation. He wanted her there. He didn’t want to be alone.
“Three weeks.” She closed her eyes. Why had she said the words?
“Agreed.”
Dear Lord, she couldn’t…she couldn’t breathe. The sound of shuffling made her eyes fly open. “What are you doing?”
“Replacing my canvas.”
Her palms grew damp. “Oh, right.”
“Go ahead then. I’ll set up.”
“Turn around,” she demanded.
“Turn?”
She nodded. He turned, but not before she caught sight of his grin and felt his amusement like a warm caress. With fingers that trembled, she tugged off her dress. All the while, her frantic gaze searched the fields looking for signs of life.
“It’s Sunday,” Leo said.
“What does that matter?” The ocean breeze sweeping off the sea made her nipples harden. She crossed her arms over her shift-clad chest. Had he noticed?
“Sunday, everyone is at church.”
“Oh dear Lord,” she murmured. Surely she would burn in hell. Not only had she missed service, but now she was undressing in front of a man? Guilt made bile rise in her throat.
“Here,” he moved forward and spread her dress upon the ground. “Lie down.”
It was a demand. She started to sit.
“The shift,” he said softly, almost as if he felt sorry for her.
“You agreed…”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.
Frantic fear clawed its way into her throat, her emotions so strong, she could no longer sense Leo’s. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Why? It’s one piece of clothing.” He stepped closer to her, and she resisted the urge to step back. His hands, warm and strong, settled on her shoulders, and he turned her so her back was to him.
Slowly, his fingers trailed down her bare arms and settled around her waist. “What is it you fear?” His breath was warm against her ear, sending bumps over her skin.
What was it she feared? She feared for her reputation. She feared what others thought of her. But mostly, she feared Leo and the emotions he stirred within.
Her shift rose up her legs. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She should stop him. So why didn’t she?
“Do you fear Lady Buckley?” Leo asked. “She isn’t here. She’s no longer a part of your life. You are free, Ella, to do what you will, what you truly want.”
The shift reached her upper thighs, and his fingers brushed against her legs. She took her lower lip between her teeth as her stomach flipped. Her limbs trembled, and although there was a soft breeze, heat pulsed through her body. His heat…hers, mixing together so intense she thought she would catch fire.
“I’m an artist, Ella. I see only natural beauty in the human form.”
She clung to that ridiculous lie when he drew her shift to her waist. He didn’t touch her, but she felt him all the same…warm…strong…tempting.
The material rubbed over her hardened nipples, and she sucked in her breath. Slowly, he pulled the shift over her head, and she heard it drop to the ground with a swish. Her heart hammered against her chest, threatening to explode. What was she doing? She’d allowed the devil to take control, just as Lady Buckley expected her to do all along. But with her own desire mixing with his, she was helpless to stop him.
Frantic, she folded her arms across her chest in one last attempt to keep herself from turning and pressing her mouth to his. Leo’s hands lingered at her waist. Slowly, his fingers inched toward her stomach. With a tug, he untied the string of her bloomers. The material fell, pooling at her feet. His fingers tightened at her waist, his hands burning into her bare skin, branding her. A deep ache pooled in the pit of her belly, then seeped lower…lower, until she wanted to sink back into his form and beg him to ease the tension.
A cool breeze blew down from the heavens, brushing wildflowers against her skin, their stems rough and their petals smooth. Like a deer at the end of a rifle, she stood frozen in place. She felt him step back, and with his movement, he took his anchoring presence. She wavered, floating on waves of confusing emotions, clouding any rational thought.
“You can lie down, on your side,” he said, his voice a soft caress.
She stepped out of her slippers and dropped to her knees, partly from embarrassment but mostly because her weak limbs could no longer hold her weight. Hidden behind a wall of wildflowers, she almost felt safe, if it wasn’t for his attention burning into her back. She took her lower lip between her teeth and lay on her side. Her face felt aflame, as if she had influenza.
“What is so important that you’d obviously do something you don’t want to do?”
She closed her eyes, letting the words sink in, and she admitted to herself that the cottage wasn’t just for Fran. Dare she tell him? Dare she confess her selfishness? She wanted to be free, free of responsibility to everyone but herself. She wanted to have a home, a home that could never be taken away from her.
He was silent, waiting for her response.
“My freedom,” she whispered, thanking God her back was to him so he couldn’t read the expression on her face.