Chapter Six
The void that filled him after talking with Eloise couldn’t have been more gutting, but it was for the best. Lying about his limitations would have only raised false hope and that wouldn’t have benefited either of them.
Though he could have done without the silence that shadowed their walk back from the ruins. Hurting Eloise…again…was unforgivable.
With an old journal he’d retrieved from the library in hand, Lucian ventured toward the sofa.
“My cousin Winston kept a diary. If something had taken place at the abbey while he remained in London, it might have been recorded here, on a date not too far from the actual event.” He placed the book on the table and then took the seat next to Eloise.
“Winston would have made just as good an archivist as he was a knight.”
“I think I would have liked your cousin.”
“No doubt the two of you would have gotten along smashingly. He and your Uncle Mallory could talk for hours over the strangest things.”
Eloise tilted her head in that enchanting little way that made the conflict within him even more vicious to deal with.
“Are you saying I’m strange, my lord?”
He smirked. “Absolutely.”
The playful spark in her eyes enchanted him as usual, forcing him to lean her way, to close the gap between them enough to breathe in that citrus scent that never failed to intoxicate his better sense.
“Strangely beautiful.” His gaze drew to her luscious lips.
“Damn it, Eloise, but you are also strangely tempting and I don’t know what to do about that. ”
She gasped.
He lowered his head. “I promised I would stay away so you could find a man worthy of you. I even regretfully declined to attend Abigail’s wedding so I could give you the space you deserved.”
“And then I showed up on your doorstep, casting your well-crafted plans into disarray.”
“Yes. But I’m not good for you, Eloise.”
“Why not let me be the judge of that?”
“If my sanity slips…”
“We’ll deal with it…then.” She brought her hand to his face. “Right now, we have this moment. And that is more than some people have.”
Need flared in his soul. In one heated moment, he claimed her lips, allowed himself to lose all restraint.
No shadows.
No whispered voices.
Just pure bliss storming through his veins.
*
Eloise returned Lucian’s kiss without protest, her lips craving his with an intense hunger.
A soft whimper rose from her throat.
Bringing his hand to her breasts, Lucian skimmed her skin, his touch as wicked as she’d remembered.
Losing all sense of propriety, she guided his fingers to her gown’s delicate neckline and tugged the flimsy fabric down, allowing him full access.
For a few seconds, all she felt was the cold air, then Lucian brushed the pads of his fingers gently across her pert right peak. “You’re like a dream,” he said against her mouth.
She bucked against his right hand, while his left graced her hips and possessively bit into her flesh.
Parting her lips, Eloise welcomed Lucian back to where he belonged.
Taking her cue, he intensified their kiss, the hint of cinnamon on his tongue an invigorating sensation stirring her tastebuds.
A rather loud cough echoed from somewhere across the room.
Lucian jerked back, his mouth gone from hers in a flash. He turned to face the library’s open doors. “Orson. You’ve returned.”
“Yes, my lord. And I see so have you, apparently.”
Lucian ignored the butler’s cheeky comment. He grappled for the cane like a nervous dog trying desperately to hide a forbidden bone from his master. “Then the roads are open?”
“Not all. Only a scarce few are currently passable. I believe the grooms will be better apprised of the situation come morning.”
She swore she heard a sigh of relief escape Lucian’s mouth.
Rising, he left her on the sofa. It was obvious by the way he stood, favoring his cane, that he was trying to shield her from Orson. “Has the rest of the staff returned as well?”
“No, my lord. I came back on my own, abandoning Cook in town.”
Her handsome marquess swore under his breath. “No need to get testy, Orson. It was a perfectly normal question.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Then Cook is back?”
“Yes. And she is preparing a hot meal as we speak. Which is why I came to inquire after you. Mrs. Hampton wishes to know if you’d prefer peas or turnips.”
“Peas,” Eloise answered.
“Peas,” Lucian repeated. “Definitely peas.”
“Very well, my lord. I’ll see to it Mrs. Hampton is informed of the lady’s wishes.” Orson took his leave.
A laugh escaped Eloise’s unruly mouth as she righted her gown’s neckline. “Forgive me, but Orson is cheekier than I remembered him being.”
“He’s a right thorn, some days.”
She playfully swatted his arm. “What did you expect the man to do? Stand there until you finished ravaging me?”
“If you think that was ravaging you, then you have sorely forgotten my skills, Miss Blackwood.” Lucian returned to the sofa.
“Hardly. Your skills could never be forgotten. But since Orson did interrupt us and since Mrs. Hampton is preparing dinner and I am so very hungry… Not that I didn’t enjoy the cold food last night and the cake this morning, but I would really prefer we delve into Winston’s ledgers for now.”
“Very well. I accept having been thrown over for beef and peas.” He pulled the ledger off the table. “Your parents’ carriage accident occurred in October, correct?”
“Yes.” She leaned over Lucian’s shoulder, the feel of him against her, natural.
He thumbed through the book, skimming over all of October, and even several days into November of the year her parents died.
“On November seventh, Winston writes that he was informed of Sir Mason Blackwood’s death in a letter received from Sir Edmund.
Edmund also mentioned having seen candle lights flickering that night at All Hallow’s Abbey as he was riding by.
He veered his horse up the drive, but the candles quickly snuffed out, leaving it too dark to discern the identity of the person he witnessed running from the house.
He returned the next morning, but nothing looked amiss. ”
Winston’s entry still wasn’t evidence enough to prove murder. “The candlelight could have been from my father or Hamish since both had keys, so that doesn’t give me anything. Does Hamish have keys now?”
“God, no. Winston had them returned the moment I came back from war. And Hamish won’t get them again as long as I live.
I hold all rights to all of All Hallows, including the ruins.
Only if I leave no heirs, will the abbey be bequeathed to the knights.
And by way of the Order’s own rules, at present, the person to take up the reins then would be Hamish. ”
“I can’t keep from thinking that my mother was on the verge of uncovering something important concerning the Knights.
If Hamish did kill her and Father, it had to be because they were a threat to him.
Maybe the treasure in that windowpane, the box that’s hidden in the heather, is tied to something damning concerning Hamish’s bloodline. ”
Lucian shook his head. “I don’t know, though Graves might be able to help with that.”
Orson returned and called them to dinner.
Rising from the sofa, Lucian offered her his arm. “While I doubt we’ll be able to solve all the mysteries you’ll find in the stained glass panels, I promise we will get to the bottom of your parents’ deaths.”
“That means a lot to me. Thank you.”
Lucian stopped before entering the hall. “Despite the conversation we had earlier, today has been the first day in a long time, that I haven’t suffered my vision blurring or my mind seeing or hearing ghosts.”
The look of calm crossing Lucian’s eyes thrilled her.
Now she just had to keep those ghosts from ever haunting him again.