Elizabeth Elliott (14 page)

“Ah, I almost forgot.” Guy padded across the room and opened the door, treating her to a view of his back. He was sleek and masculine everywhere she looked. She found the sight no less mesmerizing than his front and had to force her gaze to the doorway. His squire sat on a pallet in the hallway, readying his own bed. Guy nodded a greeting. “Tell Roland and Herbert that they need not stand guard at my sister’s old chamber tonight or any other. Lady Claudia will not be sleeping there.”

“But I would prefer to sleep there!”

The boy ignored her objection and hurried to carry out the order. Guy closed the door and turned to face her. “That chamber is for guests, Claudia. Servants are not allotted private quarters, nor guards to ensure their privacy. Two soldiers earn more in one day than a seamstress earns in a week.”

She pressed her lips together. If she had kept her mouth closed in the first place, she would be headed to her own quarters right now, to a real bed rather than a nest on the floor.

He pointed to the brace of candles on the table as he walked toward the bed. “Snuff those wicks before you retire for the night.”

His hands went to the waistband of his pants and Claudia realized that he intended to undress in front of her. She jumped up and hurried to the table, her back toward the bed as she blew out the candles. She didn’t move from her place even when the smoke from the extinguished flames burned her nostrils. Her hands gripped the edge of the table so tight that her nails would leave marks. When she heard the bed give beneath his weight and the sound of rustling covers, she released her breath in a slow sigh and opened her eyes.

The moonlight cast pale shadows in the room, while the hearth created a cozier glow near Guy’s bed. She could see him clearly, his arms propped behind his head and his eyes closed. She had slept half the day in the baggage cart, yet fatigue weighted her bones like lead. He hadn’t slept at all. No wonder he was so abrupt. If only she could blame his ugly offer on something so simple as a lack of sleep.

She glanced at the chest that held her bedding. Did he really expect her to get a moment’s sleep in this chamber? She walked to the window seat, resigned to a long vigil.

Claudia snuggled deeper under covers that smelled of sandalwood, adrift in a warm sea of satin. Someone nudged her shoulder.

“Lady Claudia?”

The voice was no more than a whisper, but Claudia
opened her eyes. There was a face hovering just inches from her own, enormous cow-brown eyes framed by blond hair. She screamed.

Lenore scrambled backward on all fours like a startled crab. Her head banged into the bedpost and she came to an abrupt halt.

Claudia sat up and pushed her hair over one shoulder, trying to get her bearings. She couldn’t recall falling asleep the night before, but felt certain she didn’t leave the window seat. Guy must have carried her to the pillows and covered her with the satin quilt. That realization brought a vague sense of relief. Being a light sleeper, she would recall if he tried to ravish her. He had kept his promise.

She glanced at Lenore. The girl’s eyes were wide with fear.

“Th-the baron asked me to attend you.” Lenore righted herself and glanced toward the door. “I will leave if you do not wish me here.”

Claudia shook her head. “Forgive me, Lenore. You startled me.” She gave the maid an encouraging smile. “Why are you here?”

“I am to be your tirewoman, Lady Claudia. The baron bid me attend you.”

Claudia’s smile faded. “The baron did not tell me that servants were accorded servants of their own.”

“Milady?”

“Never mind.” Claudia lifted a stray lock of hair and blew another out of her eyes. “If you have possession of a comb, you will find me grateful.” She stood up and began to right her bedding, piling the pillows into a neat row before the hearth. Lenore hurried over before she could start folding the blankets.

“Did you fall out of bed?” Lenore averted her eyes when Claudia gave her a sharp glance. “Forgive me, Lady Claudia. I did not realize he would make you sleep on the floor like a lowly squire.”

“He did not make me sleep on the floor,” Claudia replied,
before she thought better of her answer. Why did she feel compelled to defend Guy? Lenore did not need to know anything more of her sleeping arrangements than that.

Lenore packed the blanket away, a touch of excitement in her voice. “May I have the soldiers bring your trunk in now?”

“I have no baggage,” Claudia told her. She tried to brush some of the wrinkles from the blue daygown she had slept in. The linen was hopelessly wrinkled. She looked up to see a shy smile on Lenore’s face.

“The gowns I told you about yesterday are altered to your size, along with chemises and other garments. The baron said to make certain you have everything you need.” The girl crossed the room then opened the door to exchange a few words with someone who stood on the other side. She opened the door wider and two soldiers entered the chamber carrying a very large trunk between them. Lenore showed them where to place the trunk, then she turned to Claudia when the door closed behind the soldiers. “The seamstresses worked late into the night to make the alterations. I think you will be pleased with their efforts, my lady.”

Lenore lifted the trunk’s lid and inclined her head toward the opening, inviting Claudia to look inside. Claudia crossed the room in slow strides. Lenore’s obvious excitement stirred a sense of dread. She did not want to be any more indebted to Guy than she was already, yet she couldn’t contain her curiosity.

The first thing that caught her eye was an exquisite set of silver combs and a matching mirror. She leaned down to brush her fingers along the mirror’s handle and the delicate filigree, carved to look like entwined vines that blossomed into etched roses on the back of the mirror. There were flowers and vines along the spines of the combs as well.

“They are beautiful,” Claudia whispered, lifting the mirror from the trunk. She turned it over to look at her image, then frowned at what she saw there. “I wish I could say the same for my reflection.”

Lenore studied her with a critical eye. “We will have you looking yourself again in no time.”

“I fear that is not much of an improvement.” Lenore ignored her sarcasm and helped unload the seemingly bottomless trunk to show her the treasures inside—chemises, stockings, gowns, bliauts, and even slippers—far more clothing than Claudia had left behind at Lonsdale. She stared in silence as Lenore presented one item of clothing after another.

“Where did all these clothes come from?” Claudia asked.

“From the cast-off bolts, of course.” Lenore draped a deep green bliaut over the back of the trunk, then dragged out a gown the color of summer grass that would match it, holding the gown by the shoulders for Claudia’s inspection. “The seamstresses used the measurements from your ruined gown to make the final alterations. The fabrics all have small flaws of some sort, but most are hardly noticeable. I hope you will not mind.”

“Nay, I will not mind,” she murmured.

“The baron also mentioned that you like to sew,” Lenore went on. “He asked that I take you to the storerooms so you might choose a few bolts of fabric for your use, then we can visit the seamstresses to gather threads and needles. The baron said that he would very much like a new tunic or two, sewn by your hands.” She looked ready to say more, but pressed her lips together instead and stared at the floor. After a silent moment she glanced toward the door, as if afraid someone might be eavesdropping, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Many people are asking questions about you, my lady. Are—are the rumors true?”

Claudia shrugged. “I have not heard the rumors, so I could not say.”

“One of the soldiers told me that you tried to trick the baron into marriage.” Lenore’s face turned a deep shade of red, but she managed to continue. “He said the baron was falsely accused of bedding you at Lonsdale Castle, that his revenge was to kidnap you and make it truth.” She cast a
nervous glance toward the bed. “Yesterday I thought you were here of your own free will, Lady Claudia. It is not like the baron to—to—” Lenore bit her lip and fell silent.

Claudia considered the girl with a thoughtful frown. Yesterday she had told Guy that she didn’t care what his people thought of her. Now she discovered that was not true. She did care, and strangely, she cared what they thought of him. Her presence in his chamber made it pointless to proclaim her innocence, but she could put a stop to part of the rumor. “I am here of my own free will, Lenore.”

The girl’s face dissolved into a smile. “I told them the baron would not be so heartless.”

Claudia found it grimly amusing that Lenore would rather think her a harlot than the baron a ravisher of women. “Will you show me to the storerooms, Lenore? I am looking forward to seeing more of the castle.”

7

G
uy turned down the hallway that led to the solar, a stack of ledgers tucked under his arm. The solar was a large, airy room with a row of tall windows that faced the south wall. The windows provided plenty of light to review his accounts, a tedious task he never looked forward to, but it was an excuse to avoid his chamber and Claudia. He had never considered himself a coward, but today he had to revise his opinion. He had all but fled his chamber that morning, a coward’s retreat, to be sure. He was always so sure of himself, so confident in his ability to control everything in his life. Claudia had turned it upside down.

What plagued him most was his indecision. Should he treat her as the enemy and a prisoner? An unexpected guest? A servant? What he wanted most was to treat her as his mistress. She didn’t seem the least inclined to allow him that simple solution. Her own desire and the fact that everyone thought them lovers already did not sway her, nor did the promise of wealth and security for a lifetime. Then again, he obviously hadn’t happened upon her price, the thing she wanted badly enough to come to him willingly. He had made it clear that marriage was not an option. What did she want from him?

He pushed open the door to the solar, lost in his thoughts until he stepped on something soft where there should be only flagstones. A length of deep green brocade lay beneath his feet.

“That will look better as a tunic than it does as a rug.”

His head shot up at the sound of Claudia’s voice. She was crouched down on her hands and knees over a length of
white samite that she had laid on top of a Persian rug at the far end of the room, a pair of shears in her hand. The pose displayed her rounded bottom to perfection. One of the ledgers he held tumbled to the floor.

He stepped off the brocade and bent to retrieve the ledger, his gaze fixed downward as he steeled himself for another tantalizing glimpse. By the time he looked up, she had pushed herself upright to settle onto her heels. “What are you doing here, Claudia?”

“Lenore showed me the buildings where your seamstresses and tailors work. There was no room for me there, and the light is better here than in your chamber. I find it strange that you agreed Montague needed another seamstress when you have so many.”

She bent over her work again and his grip tightened on the volumes he held. Her gown was the color of a fine Bordeaux wine, a heady drink that offered a pleasing bouquet and rich subtleties in its flavor, perfect for a man of discriminating tastes. What her gown contained offered the same. He could get drunk just looking at her. It took almost more effort than he possessed to tear his gaze away from temptation.

He walked to the long table that sat beneath one of the windows and placed the ledgers there. “You wished to earn your keep, and I would value a tunic sewn by your hands.” His words sounded harsher than he had intended and he tried to soften them. “You may also sew gowns for yourself, if you wish.”

She shot him an inscrutable look over one shoulder. “As of this morning, I have more gowns than I ever owned at Lonsdale. I have no need for more, Baron.”

Was she displeased by his generosity? Aye, another tactical error on his part. So much for plying her with gifts.

“As you wish,” he murmured. Retreat seemed the wisest course for the moment. He pulled a stool up to the table and opened the first leather-bound volume.

Soon all the ledgers were open and the top of the oak table disappeared beneath a sea of parchment. His quill
scratched a steady rhythm across one of the pages, his large hand as adept at wielding a pen as it was with a sword. Then Claudia began to hum. She probably wasn’t aware of what she was doing, but her deep, sultry voice reached across the room like an invisible caress. He recognized the song, a favorite among the gondoliers in Venice. It brought to mind moonlit nights under a warm Italian sky.

He could well imagine himself in a gondola on such a night, reclined against the plush seats with Claudia in his arms. The long lists of numbers turned into dark canals sprinkled with stars. He could almost hear the water lapping around them, the gentle rocking motion of the boat, the scent of roses when she leaned closer to give him a taste of her lips. He closed his eyes and the image became clearer, the imagined caresses more potent.