Hilde #2
“I suppose you’re wondering why I invited you here this evening,” she blurted out.
He smirked at her, lifting his hand to rest his chin on it.
“Why, Lady Croft, I assumed it was simple neighborly friendship.”
“I…”
“Do you mean to say that you have something else in mind?”
Was he teasing her? Did he suspect her motives and was so unconcerned that he thought he could make fun? But how could he possibly know? She couldn’t bear to draw this out any longer.
“I have a proposition for you, my lord.”
He leaned closer, still smiling. “I told you, call me Elmwood. And I’m listening.”
This was it. She needed to choose her words carefully. She didn’t want to be the first one to say Charm. She’d never in her life had occasion to ask anyone about having a Charm, and it was quite impossible to just blurt out the word. No, she would have to be tactful.
“I have heard that you are a man possessed of…certain talents,” she said. He ran a finger across his lower lip, slowly, and she stared at it, practically hypnotized by her anxiety. “Well? Can you…confirm this?”
He laughed.
“Goodness, Lady Croft. I see you like to get straight to business. Yes. I can confirm that I am a man of…talent. A large talent, if you will.”
Well! That was something. He had understood her meaning. Perhaps he was comfortable confiding in her because the Charm thrill had told him that she was a Charmer like him. Maybe allowing it to be revealed had not been such a terrible mistake on her part after all.
“That is…excellent to have confirmed,” she said. “I suppose…those of us who are possessed of great talents must naturally wish to be able to…share them with others who will be appreciative rather than ashamed.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“Oh, I make it a point to never be ashamed when it comes to my talent, Lady Croft. Though I admit, I’m now very curious as to what sort of deviant exchange you might have in mind. Please rest assured that whatever it might be, you will find me amenable.”
“Oh.” She felt unseated. Of all the scenarios she had imagined, it had never occurred to her that he would be eager to use his Charm to help her.
Though he didn’t know precisely what she was asking for, not yet.
Perhaps he would not be so amenable once she revealed the details.
“Good. I mean, thank you. You see, what I have in mind is potentially challenging—and frankly, it’s a bit questionable, morally speaking.
I assumed you’d need some…convincing. Or rather, that you wouldn’t want to do it, and I’d be forced to compel you. ”
“Compel me? Now, that is intriguing. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I…” she said, floundering. Was this the time to bring up blackmail? Surely it would only sour things to threaten him now.
She took a swig of wine, hoping it would steady her nerves. It did not.
She risked glancing at him; he had tilted his head to one side, as if he were studying her.
“I apologize, Lady Croft,” he said. “I sense that my teasing has made you nervous. Let me assure you that excess morality has rarely been an impediment of mine, and my talent has allowed me to successfully mount all manner of…challenges. Consider me convinced, compelled, and in all ways ready to be of service.”
She had the sudden, mad urge to leap up and embrace him and perhaps burst into tears from sheer relief.
Her plan was falling into place, against all odds, and she hadn’t even needed to blackmail him!
Instead, she forced herself to rise calmly and smile at him, and she hoped that he could see the gratitude that was in her heart.
She couldn’t think of a way to express it aloud that wouldn’t be unseemly.
“Will you come with me, then? I am quite eager to proceed.”
He grinned back at her, and when it reached his eyes, it made him so dazzling that it was difficult to keep looking at him.
“I find that I am every bit as eager. Let us not dally one moment longer.” He pushed his chair back from the table.
“Please follow me, then,” she said.
“Anywhere,” he replied, which seemed a bit overenthusiastic, though she wasn’t about to complain.
She led him out into the entryway, then into the yard. He paused in the doorway. “Outside?” he said. Then he grinned again. “It’s a bit chilly for my taste, but you did warn me to expect the unconventional. Lead on!”
“Be quiet,” she whispered at him. He winked at her and mimed shushing, finger to his lips.
She took him along the edge of the yard closest to the house so no one would see them from the windows, and then stopped when she reached the root cellar door. She pulled out her key, and he whistled quietly.
“What?” she said, struggling to work the key with hands that insisted on shaking. Why was she nervous? He’d already agreed to help her! She finally managed to open the door, revealing the steep stairs down into the cellar.
“Why, Lady Croft,” he said, “are you taking me to your dungeon?”
“What? Of course not! I mean to say, this was once a dungeon, when Croftholde was a border keep, but it’s not any longer, and hasn’t been for ages.”
Her fingers shook so hard that she dropped the keys. She bent to retrieve them, and he stopped her, his hand warm upon her arm, and even through the wool of her sleeve, she thought she sensed their Charms fizz again.
“Are you well?” he asked gently, his voice unexpectedly earnest. He released her arm.
“You seem nervous, which is very sweet, but unnecessary. Please let me assure you, Lady Croft, that whatever you’ve got planned for me down there, I am most definitely willing.
And if at any point you decide that you no longer wish to avail yourself of my talent, please know that I will only use it at your pleasure. ”
A little huff of a laugh escaped her.
“I’m quite well, but thank you for asking,” she said. She motioned for him to follow her down the steps, then thought of his leg. “Are they too steep?”
“No, no, I can manage. Just don’t expect me to be quick. I’m a man who likes to take his time, in all things.” The light, humorous quality had returned to his voice, and she was glad of it. His jovial banter was easier on her nerves than his sincerity.
“It will be dark, but there is a lamp I shall light when we reach the bottom.”
They descended. Then she used the tinderbox on one of the shelves to light the little lamp that hung from a low beam. The lamp cast a narrow circle of illumination that didn’t reach the corner where Thorgoode lay. She thought she’d better explain things first.
“Is this a cellar?” said Elmwood, the confusion plain in his voice.
“Yes,” she said.
He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re a strange woman, but I like it! Come here, Lady Croft.”
To her complete and utter shock, he closed the space between them, then slid one hand up her neck and the other expertly around her waist and pulled her into an embrace.
As soon as his skin touched hers—his hand pressing where her hair met her neck—the sparks of Charm meeting Charm shot through her once more.
Then his lips were on hers, hot and eager.
In her experience, kisses were meant to be fond, and comforting, and familiar. Kisses were meant to be safe.
There was nothing safe about this kiss. It was incendiary, like a bonfire that had been built irresponsibly large and would set the entire countryside alight in short order, burning everything in its path to ash. It would take a village-wide bucket brigade to douse a kiss like this!
It was too much.
She shoved him away. He stumbled backward, tripping over a crate of apples and falling to the floor with a yelp.
“What are you doing?” she said, trying to keep her voice quiet even though she wanted to shriek.
“Fucking you?” he said in a pained voice.
The shock made her dizzy.
“No!” she cried.
“But…you asked me to fuck you.”
“I most certainly did not!”
“Well, you implied it! You said you wanted my talent!”
“I didn’t mean your…that!”
“Then what did you mean?”
This had to be the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to her—and quite possibly to anyone, ever. How was she supposed to tell this man what she really wanted when he’d thought she wanted to bed him?
There was nothing for it.
She grabbed the lantern and strode over to the corner where poor Thorgoode lay in repose, then pulled the blanket off him.
Elmwood got slowly to his feet, then limped over and looked down at Thorgoode.
“Who is that?”
“That’s Lord Thorgoode Croft, my husband.”
“I thought he was away!”
“So does everyone else, but he’s dead, and what I need, more than anything, is for him to not be dead. I’ve brought you here to use your Charm to resurrect my husband.”
He stared at her, his mouth agape, his face so pale in the lantern light that it was more deathly than Thorgoode’s.
“That is impossible,” he finally stammered out. “I can’t help you.”
She clenched her teeth.
“You can, and you will. If you refuse to help me, I will inform the authorities that you’re hiding at Merewyth.”
He closed his eyes.
“Then, Lady Croft, it appears we’re both fucked after all.”