Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Alison woke up slowly the following morning. She was curled up in bed. She was smiling, although she could not say why. She felt Pickle snuggled in beside her, and she pulled the little terrier in close, content with staying there forever because on days like this one why was there a need to rush?
That was when it all came back to her.
Her eyes shot open, and she sat up quickly, looking about the strange room which was most certainly not her own. Those feelings of comfort fled her body, replaced far too readily by feelings of dread.
Perhaps I should just stay in bed? Sleep forever so that when I do wake Christmas will be over, my family will have returned, and all last night will be a dull memory easily forgotten.
Alison wanted to forget what happened between herself and the Earl.
His kiss had caught her by surprise – that was the reason for the way she succumbed to it.
And as for her giving in and agreeing to stay here for the single night?
What other choice did I have? Despite how arrogant the man was, he spoke sense, and it was not safe for her to return home.
So, yes, all that happened was explainable and not worth pondering on or thinking about too deeply because it meant nothing.
And yet… even now, hours removed from the fact, Alison’s lips tingled from the kiss and her stomach flipped as she remembered how her body reacted to his touch and the way he had looked at her…
It was this confusion that delayed Alison getting ready that morning.
She did so slowly, in part hoping that perhaps by the time she wandered downstairs, the Earl wouldn’t be home.
As this was not her home, she had no clothes to change into, just what she had been given last night, which she did not feel comfortable wearing again.
Nor did she feel confident enough to ask for a bath to be drawn.
Thus, she wore nothing more than a shift and her brother’s coat as she carefully edged from her room and started through the manor.
Alone, save for Pickle who she held in her arms.
The manor was larger than Lord Pemberton’s home. Wider hallways, higher ceilings, richer in decoration and extravagance. But it was also emptier feeling, so that as she walked, all Alison could hear was the odd patter of footsteps in distant rooms, and the winds whistling outside.
Her first thought was to go directly home, but whenever she considered that, she remembered the Earl’s words last night, and the kiss that followed. While she hated that he was so controlling of her, she had to admit that what he did was for the best. That he was only trying to help her.
For that reason, she could not comprehend simply leaving the manor without first saying goodbye. I will thank him quickly and leave. And this time, he better not try and stop me…
Soon, she found herself entering the breakfast room. And that was where she found the Earl.
He was standing by the open window, a blanket around his shoulders, a mug of what she guessed to be coffee in his hands.
His back was stiff, his stance rigid, his attention focused firmly on whatever was happening outside.
The storm had passed overnight, leaving behind a clear morning, white light shining through the window so it magnified the Earl and made him glow.
And Alison started at the doorway.
Watching the Earl by the window, all her efforts to push away what happened the last evening between them, to nullify the meaning of such things, vanished rather quickly. Despite her reservations, even she had to admit that he was rather dreamy.
“You’re awake,” he said without turning around.
Alison started again, caught by surprise when he noticed her. “I am.”
“And how did you sleep?”
“Soundly.”
He said nothing for a moment, still gazing out the window. She watched him, feeling the tension sitting between them as if it was blocking her from entering the room fully.
Has he been thinking about what happened between us last evening?
“As I was saying last evening, I will have a letter sent after your family at once. Best that you write it too, I think, as I wouldn’t presume to make requests at your behest.”
“Oh...” She blinked. “Thank you.”
“After which, I presume that you will be staying here until your family returns to collect you. Hopefully, it will be sometime later today, assuming we send the letter shortly and they have not traveled too far.”
Alison almost thanked him again. But she stopped herself from doing so, taken by a sudden urge to argue with him. It was the way he spoke that did it, how removed he was, how demanding. He did not ask her if she wished to stay but commanded it.
As far as he was concerned, she had no choice.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said.
“What won’t be?”
“My staying here.” She took a deep breath and walked into the room, pushing back at his command, petting Pickle the whole time to keep her hands busy. “Once the letter is sent, I will return home and wait for my family there.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” She reached the end of the table and stopped. “I thank you for all your help, but it is no longer required. As you said yourself, what I heard last evening was likely my imagination, so why worry?”
“And you believe that, do you?”
“Don’t you?”
He sighed. “I don’t even think that you believe it. You want to, no doubt. You wish it was the case, such is the enjoyment you take from pushing me. But let us not play games, Lady Alison. You and I both know that returning home today is not a safe option.”
“I know no such thing,” she said rightly. “Which is precisely why I will be returning home.”
He scoffed. “You are being ridiculous.”
“And you are being controlling.”
“And you are being –” He caught his tongue, smiling to himself. “This isn’t a conversation we’re having, Lady Alison. Not again.”
She was expecting it and came ready. “I –”
“Am under my care,” he cut her off. As he did, he strode from the window toward her. Alison saw him coming and forced herself to stay put, not wanting to back down. At least not physically. “And until I can assure your safety, I must insist that you remain here.”
“And if I refuse?”
He stopped short of her, keeping several feet between them. Then, he glanced her over, a smirk tugging at his lips and mockery in his eyes. “I think history has proven already that there is no point.”
“I –”
“Am staying here. And that is final.”
To make matters worse, the Earl did not raise his voice. He did not belittle her or shut her down. He spoke calmly and with reason, every word spoken brimming with command in a way that suggested he was used to getting his way.
And Alison, not at all used to being told what to do…
or at even being noticed for long enough to be given such orders, found herself unable and unwilling to argue.
Oh, she wanted to. She yearned for it. But there was just something about the way he looked at her, the power in his gaze and coming from his hulking body that squashed her rebellious tendencies.
With no choice, she bowed her head to show that she accepted.
“Good,” he said. “See how much easier it is when you don’t insist on arguing to points you know you will lose.”
She clenched her jaw, adrenaline shooting through her veins. He was baiting her! If she did not know any better, she would have said that he wanted her to argue.
Indeed, a quick glance up and she noted the smirk, she saw the thrill, and she felt how darn pleased he was with himself for quelling her so effortlessly. Just as she saw how he wanted more…
“I did not lose,” she started. “I merely saw the logic in your suggestion and –”
“It was not a suggestion.”
She bit back the urge to snap. “You know, you really are a piece of –”
“Ah, Godfrey!” the Earl spoke over her suddenly, just as the valet strode into the room behind Alison. “Right on time. You brought what I asked for?”
“Of course, my lord.”
Alison glared at the Earl, who was already walking past her, happy to forget the brewing argument. She followed him, noting the valet and the parchment he carried with him.
“What is that for?” she asked.
Lord Grayhill frowned at the question. “I told you, a letter will need to be written, and shortly. Best that we send it off before it is too late. That is unless…” He tilted his head, the frown turning into a knowing smirk.
“You wish to spend another evening under my roof? I never would have guessed.”
She fixed the Earl with her most rueful glare. “Just give me the parchment.”
Alison spent the next five minutes writing a letter to her mother, asking that she return to collect her at once. And as she did, Lord Grayhill stood over her shoulder and watched; an action which she found discomforting.
However, some joy was found when Pickle began to sniff at his leg and started to gnaw on his boots, which had the Earl cursing and pushing the dog away.
“Good boy,” she made sure to say, loud enough so that Lord Grayhill could hear her.
“That dog is a menace,” he snapped.
“I always found him a rather good judge of character,” she shot back.
Once the letter was finished with, the Earl handed it off to the valet, Godfrey, to deliver at once. “Send your fastest rider,” he ordered. “Lord Pemberton will be traveling by carriage, so I suspect he will have no trouble in reaching them before noon if he pushes himself hard enough.”
“It will be done.” The valet bowed, was about to exit, only to pause and consider the two of them. “It has just occurred to me also, my lord, that perhaps an activity might be required of the two of you.”
Lord Grayhill frowned. “What?”
Godfrey looked between them both again, and he smiled coyly as if a most troublesome idea had just come to mind. “Even if this letter does reach Lady Alison’s family today, the chances of them returning by nightfall are slim – and even if they do, that will leave the entire day to fill.”
“And your point?”
“Perhaps it is not my place,” he continued innocently. “But surely, as a guest in your home, you will be looking to entertain and occupy Lady Alison’s time? It is only right that you do.”
Lord Grayhill narrowed his eyes warningly. “Thank you for the observation, Godfrey.”
“Of course.” The valet bowed deeply. “And it just so happens that Whitehaven is still playing host to its Christmas Fair. No doubt it will make for an enjoyable activity to partake in.”
Still seated at the table, Alison looked between Lord Grayhill and the valet. The valet appeared somewhat pleased with himself, while Lord Grayhill could not have looked more frustrated.
“We will consider it,” the Earl said carefully, a bite to his voice. “But I would not presume to monopolize Lady Alison’s time. No doubt she would rather spend it on her own.”
Indeed, Alison had no desire to spend any more time with Lord Grayhill than she needed to. And if it was up to her, she would have happily spent the day hiding in the library or her room until she heard from her family. The less she was around the Earl, the better.
However, sensing his objection to this suggestion, knowing from the way he glared at his valet that the last thing he wanted was to spend the day at the fair with her, Alison found herself speaking before she could stop to consider the consequences.
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” she said.
“What?” Lord Grayhill stammered.
She smiled pleasantly at him. “Surely, you do not expect me to spend all day cooped up inside? And surely, as concerned for my wellbeing as you are, you would not dream of leaving me to attend the fair on my own?” She flashed a wicked smile, just so he could see what she was doing. “In fact, I know you would not.”
It was petty of Alison, she knew.
It was immature, also.
But Alison was sick to death of losing. Every time she and the Earl fought, he came out on top, and she needed this victory to reassert herself.
He was just so darn assured of the power he had over her, how easy she was to command and control, that this little moment right here was needed to tip the scales back in her favor.
At the very least to remind Lord Grayhill that she was not some innocent little girl he could walk all over.
“You really wish to attend the fair?” he asked her, jaw clenched, his objection to the affair obvious.
“So very much,” she said and fluttered her eyelashes.
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “As you wish – Godfrey, the letter, thank you. Oh…” He made sure to hold the valet in his glare a moment longer. “And this will not be forgotten.”
“I would not expect it to be.” The valet offered a deep bow and then scurried from the room.
“A fair.” Alison scooped up Pickle and brought him into her chest. “How fun. Oh, wait…” She pretended to look aghast. “I did not think to ask. You did not have any other plans today, did you? I would hate to have interrupted them.”
“Me?” Lord Grayhill managed an easy smile, as if this was the plan all along. “Even if I did, a day at the fair sounds like a most wonderful idea.”
“I could not agree more.” His eyes then flicked her over and a frown took his face. “Before that, however, perhaps a change of clothes? As dashing as that coat looks on you, I do not think it will be appropriate to wear into town.”
Her eyes widened with embarrassment, and she half moved to cover herself. “I… I will return home and –”
“No, no,” he cut her off. “What did I say about that? I will have Godfrey find you something from my sister’s wardrobe. Hopefully, their tastes will suffice.”
She wanted to deny him, just for the sake of it. But Alison was starting to get a sense of the type of man that the Earl was, and she figured this was one point that she could afford to concede. “That sounds lovely.”
They stared one another down then. Lord Grayhill was winning the war, but this smallest of battles went in favor of Alison.
And oh, how she loved it. Just as she was excited to see what he would do next to punish her…
a thought which sent a tingle through her body for reasons that were becoming entirely too obvious.