Ella’s gaze slid back to the trees. Somewhere, out there, he hid. She probed the woods with her mind and felt his tormented soul, hidden beneath the surface. Not a monster yet, but she had no doubt, should he choose, the darkness could be his undoing.
Ella sank back into her down pillows and closed her eyes. Her headache had dissipated, but the buzzing remained deep in her core as if a million bees were waiting to be released. She pressed her hands to her stomach. If she would stay, she must learn to block the man’s emotions for her own sanity and survival. In all honesty, she didn’t quite understand how he could survive such haunting memories and emotions. Surely, they’d kill a lesser man. It said something about his character, and she couldn’t help but be impressed with Leo.
A sea breeze swept in from the open window and soothed her frazzled thoughts. Outside, a gull called, the sound a familiar remnant of a long ago memory. Finally, Fran would see the ocean and relax until her health improved. Somehow she’d make this work. She could last six months. She must for her sake and for Fran’s.
A soft knock broke into her thoughts. With a groan, Ella slipped from her bed and smoothed down her serviceable gray skirt. “Come in.”
A maid peeked inside, the white cap upon her head making her unrecognizable from the many other maids she’d met. “Sorry, miss, but he’s still abed.”
Exhaustion flared with irritation, brewing in an explosive mixture. She would never have tolerated such nonsense from Lady Buckley’s children. Blast, but she was tired, tired of being treated so disrespectfully by everyone she seemed to come into contact with. “Still? But it’s four o’clock!”
“Yes, miss. But the young master usually sleeps well into the day.”
“Of all the…tell his man to wake him.”
The maid’s gaze grew wide. “Oh no, miss, we can’t disturb the master.”
Ella crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw. Well, really. She’d been waiting for him all day. She was tired of his emotions, tired of the pain, tired of his games. Ridiculous. She’d had plenty of practice with spoiled children and he would not hold the upper hand. Time to start treating the
young master
like she would any ward.
“Where are his quarters?”
The maid paled. “Down the hall.”
“Very well, if he won’t come to me, I’ll go to him.” She brushed past the gawking girl and out into the corridor.
I can do this
, she thought, halfway there.
After all, he’s nothing more than an overgrown lad
.
She tilted her chin and continued.
And inconsiderate lads should be taught better
.
Reaching his room, she took in a deep breath.
It is time he grew up
.
She pounded on the door.
No answer.
She pounded louder.
Still no answer. Clenching her jaw and praying for protection, she tugged open the door.
Darkness enveloped her.
Ella waited for her eyes to adjust. Slowly, shapes emerged. A thin line of light seeped between the thick curtains along one side of the wall. Leaving the door wide, she wove her way between shadowed objects to the windows. She took in a deep breath, steeled herself against the onslaught of Leo’s anger, and wrenched aside the curtains, splashing the room with brilliant light. She blinked, stumbling back and covering her eyes with her hand.
A soft grumble resounded from the corner of the room, and she could feel his mind, alert, waiting to pounce. Had he been awake even before she’d entered? Ella spun around to face a massive four-poster bed. A blanket lay in a crumpled heap, blocking the occupant from view. She took a hesitant step forward and peeked over the mound of covers. The bed was empty.
Confused, Ella turned. “Leo?”
No answer.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, she started forward again, wondering if perhaps he was hidden behind a pillow.
“Leo, it’s time to wake. You’ve slept away the entire day.”
From behind her, a growl erupted. Ella spun around. He pushed himself up from the floor in front of the fireplace, his bare chest gleaming in the sunlight pouring in through the windows. Only a thin blanket made his bed. Quickly, she jerked her gaze up to his. His anger slammed against her, making her weave on her feet. Ella’s heart froze in her chest. His nostrils flared, and his lip curled into a menacing snarl. His eyes, dear Lord, had his eyes turned to fire? She wanted to flee, yet couldn’t seem to move.
His bare feet hit the floor with a thud, his long muscled legs naked from the knees down. His dark hair hung loose to his jaw line. Beside the strange short trousers he wore, nothing else covered his golden body. He stalked toward her, muscles bunching, flexing, under tanned skin.
Run! Run!
Her mind screamed, yet she couldn’t seem to move.
Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! Just treat him like any of my wards.
Except none of her past wards had been tall and muscled. He stopped a foot from her, so close she swayed, overwhelmed by his presence.
Lifting his arm, he pointed toward the door.
“Get out!” he demanded.
Without hesitation, Ella spun around and raced from the room. Slamming the door shut, she leaned against the wall and took in great gulps of air. Dear Lord, he’d kill her, he would. A loud crash shook the floor. Ella gasped, lifted her skirts, and scurried down the hall. She couldn’t do this…she couldn’t…she wouldn’t. She’d have to find another way to help Fran. She reached for her bedroom door when realization made her freeze.
He’d spoken.
Her arm fell to her side, and she turned, staring down the long hall where she could barely decipher the outline of his door.
“
Can you speak?
” she’d asked him at the waterfall. What a ninny he must have thought her. But how well could he speak?
“Ella?” Lord Roberts stood at the top of the stairs, watching her.
Guilt washed through her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. He thought she’d stay, that she’d be a miracle tonic for his grandson.
With a sigh, he started toward her, not pausing until he reached the window beside her.
“If you follow that path,” Lord Roberts started, nodding toward the horizon. “It will take you directly to the sea.”
She couldn’t stop herself from looking in the direction he indicated. “Really?”
“But you aren’t here to enjoy the scenery, are you?”
Her face flushed, and she shook her head. “I—I don’t know how I can help him. I think he may be beyond help.” But even as she said the words, she knew it was the fear talking, fear of emotions so troubling and powerful she knew they could be her demise.
Lord Roberts sighed. “When Leo’s father wanted to go to India, I didn’t say a word.”
Ella’s heart skipped a beat. “India?”
“He’d always been an adventurous boy, and I knew I couldn’t stifle his longing. For twelve years now, I’ve regretted that decision. Leo’s parents were murdered there.”
Ella couldn’t contain her gasp.
Lord Roberts continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Leo was nowhere to be found. My second son traveled there, but could find no trace. A little over a year ago, Leo appeared at this house. I didn’t believe it was him, at first. But he had his father’s ring and his grandmother’s eyes.”
“But where was he all that time? How did he survive?” Ella demanded. Suddenly, her visions were starting to make sense.
“He had a friend with him, some sort of Indian native named Akshay who comes and goes like a thief. Speaks even less than Leo. Other than that, I do not know who helped him survive.”
“You haven’t asked?”
He gazed out over the gardens below, his face tired and worn down by the burdens of life. “I tried, but the boy is rather silent, if you haven’t noticed.”
“But, you do know he can speak, don’t you?”
“Of course, although he’s barely spoken more than a few words to me. He’s not an animal, if that’s what you think. Spent time with an Italian artist where he learned to paint. He was old enough when he lost his parents to retain a bit of the English culture. But he needs refinement. Needs to learn how to behave around women if he is to ever marry and carry on our family line.”
They lapsed into silence. Ella’s mind spun, her thoughts a jumble of confusing emotions. Half of her wanted to run; the other half told her to stay and help this man who so desperately needed her. Although Lady Buckley’s youngest girls had been kind enough, they’d never truly needed her. No one had since her grandfather died.
“Will you stay, Ella? Will you try and help him?”
She met Lord Roberts’s blue gaze. She could see the hope there, the fear, the worry, the exhaustion, the same emotions most likely mirrored in her own eyes. If she stayed, she might be able to help both Leo and Lord Roberts. If she stayed, she may ruin herself completely. But nagging at the back of her mind was the picture of Leo as a child—his fear, his sorrow, his pain. A lad who deserved his misfortune as little as she deserved hers. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt like Leo was almost a kindred soul. A mere boy who’d seen too much.
How had he survived?
How could she say no?
Cold, lonely, destructive.
He saw no hope in those waves, so why did she stand there as if the sea were her salvation? Fascinated, Leo watched the governess tilt her face to the sky, a soft smile playing on her lips as an ocean breeze danced with her golden brown hair. There was an innocence, a purity about her that drew him…pulled him under until he thought he might drown. Was it possible she controlled the ebb and flow of the waves? It wouldn’t surprise him.
She crossed her arms over her chest and walked the edge of the water. As if she sensed him watching, she looked his way. Her gaze locked on his, and the breeze carried her gasp of surprise. She was quicker than most at hiding her reaction. Smoothing her features to an unreadable expression, she lifted her gray gown, exposing trim ankles, and started toward him.
“Good morning, my lord,” she called out.
He slipped his father’s ring into his trouser pocket and remained silent. Not because he didn’t know how to speak, but because he’d learned long ago that silence could easily intimidate. She clambered up the rocks toward him, and with a frown, he realized she wasn’t as intimidated as he thought.
“It’s a little chilly this morn.” Reaching his side, she gave him a tight smile and perched on a boulder next to him. With her back perfectly straight, she smoothed her skirts around her as if at a bloody tea party with the queen.
He didn’t know what to make of the woman. She was far removed from the overly perfumed trembling misses he’d been forced to endure during last year’s season in London. Her scent was soft, like fresh air, the opposite of the spicy and heady scent of Indian women. Completely different, yet there was something…something…
Cazzarola
. She was
beautiful
and tenacious.
“I haven’t been to the sea since I was a child.” Her tone was wistful, lyrical in a way that forced him to listen, whether he wanted to or not. “I used to visit every day and collect shells. My uncle found them for me wherever he traveled. He went to Ind—” she broke off and blushed.
He didn’t move, but continued to stare directly into her eyes, willing her to flee in embarrassment. Silently goading her to leave him in peace. He knew she wouldn’t dare mention the country, for not a soul had since he’d arrived. They pretended as if he’d merely gone on a holiday to the Continent, rather than a nightmare in hell.
“India,” she whispered, surprising him. Those sky-blue orbs shined with sympathy, a sympathy that made his gut churn.
How much did she know? His frown deepened, and he tore his gaze away, afraid she’d read the truth in his eyes.
“I do so love the ocean. My uncle used to say that when you lived by the sea, you could go anywhere, anything was possible.” She breathed in deeply and let her lashes drift down, dark fans that shadowed her upper cheeks.
He had the unsettling feeling he could sit there and watch her forever. His hands curled at his sides as he resisted the urge to touch her face, to feel her smooth, porcelain skin underneath his fingertips, to slide his hands through her silky hair, to taste her lips.
She smelled clean, like the morning dew in a garden of roses, and he wanted to drink in her innocence. But the innocence of her cheery smile and twinkling eyes belied the strength in her body. A trim waist and slender ankles were proof she was no lazy miss. He could easily crush her, but he had no doubt she’d put up a fight.
“I have missed the ocean terribly.” Her brilliant azure eyes came to light on him.
Is that why she agreed to the position, to be near the ocean? To relive her past? No, certainly there was more to this woman. There was always more.
She shivered. Before he thought better, he shrugged the jacket from his shoulders. Disgusted with himself, he tossed the garment toward her, watching it land in her lap haphazardly. Apparently, he hadn’t lost all of his English propriety.
“Oh, thank you.”
He jumped from the rocks, landing with a soft thud to the sand.
“Do you…do you like the ocean?” She scampered after him.
“Not particularly,” he replied.
She stilled and blinked her eyes wide.
He stopped walking, his curiosity overtaking his common sense. “What?”
She shook her head. “I just…” She averted her gaze, and her face flushed a soft pink, like the inside of a shell. “I apologize. Honestly, I hadn’t expected an answer.”
“Why?”
Her flush deepened to a magenta, a magenta that matched the horizon hovering over the sea. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
He tried not to think about how vulnerable she looked in his oversized jacket, tried not to think about pressing his mouth to her rose-colored lips, tried not to think about burying his face in her hair and breathing in her clean fragrance—anything that would make him forget the scent of spices and herbs, the scent of damp earth and jungle. Instead, he focused on the fact that she wouldn’t survive a day in India. Nor would she survive a fortnight with him.
“Did you think me mute? Or mad? A common mistake.” He started down the beach, wondering if she’d follow.
“Perhaps ’tis your demeanor around visitors.”
He released a wry laugh; he couldn’t help himself. “And how is that?”
“Well.” She peeked up at him through her thick lashes.
He stopped again and crossed his arms over his chest, his legs braced apart. “Continue.”
She frowned. “Well, that’s not to say…what I mean is that sometimes you seem a bit…unrefined or uncultured.” She went every shade of red, obviously realizing how impertinent her words sounded. “Well, I didn’t mean that exactly….”
“An animal.” He’d heard the words so many times before he didn’t even flinch.
She flinched, and paled. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She plucked at the yellowed lace on the cuff of her sleeve. Was she embarrassed, or did his presence unnerve her as it did so many others? Why the hell did he care? Why was she any different? She wasn’t.
Leo swallowed hard and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I do not see the purpose of being polite to people who are here to judge and ridicule.”
“I’m not here to judge or ridicule you.”
Her wide blue eyes bespoke of a sincerity he wished he could believe. Certainly, she was as shallow as the rest of them, and if he hadn’t decided he could use a governess to further his plan, he’d frighten her into leaving. If they believed he was willing to learn, they’d never suspect his true intentions.
He started down the beach, focusing on the roar of the waves, the rising sun spreading a palette of pastels across the sky. But at the forefront of his mind, she resided, taunting, tempting. He knew she followed, could hear her harsh breathing as she hurried to catch him.
“You seem very passionate about painting.”
He didn’t answer. How could he? He painted to forget a past no other could possibly comprehend.
She didn’t seem to notice or care about his lack of response. “I know very little about art. Although, I did like to draw as a child. What type of medium do you prefer?”
He slid her a less than encouraging glance and sighed. “Oils.”
“Ah, oils, of course. And do you paint people? Landscapes?”
“Both.” In the few moments with this woman, he’d spoken more than he had in months.
Seeing a shell gleaming pink in the sand, he scooped it up and pushed it into her palm before he thought better. As if he’d just given her a bloody diamond, she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. Heat spread through his body, flaring his annoyance. He tore his gaze away and quickened his pace. He’d known the moment he’d seen her watching him from her bedchamber that there was something different about this woman.
“Thank you.” She rushed after him, doubling her strides. “It’s the first shell I’ve received since I had to leave home.”
The sympathetic child that hid deep within his soul nagged at him to ask why she’d had to leave, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t care. Her hand suddenly latched onto his upper arm. He stiffened; his instinct was to shrug her away. Taking in a deep breath, he forced his thumping heart to slow. Just a touch, a mere touch.
“Look.” She pointed toward the waves.
A sleek, gray lump skimmed above the surface of the waves. Nothing else loomed on the horizon. Confused, he waited for an explanation.
“A seal,” she said.
The animal hauled itself onto a flat, rocky outcrop, looked at them, and barked.
Ella laughed a brilliant, merry sound that reminded him of the leaves tinkling when it rained in the jungle.
The seal shook its head and then slipped back into the water, with nary a splash.
Grinning, Ella looked up at Leo. The light hit her, highlighting her high cheekbones and showing a face that would inspire Botticelli. His heart stilled, heat spreading through his body like the rays of a rising sun.
Her smile fell, as if she sensed his growing attraction and the sudden danger of being alone with a man more animal than human. “It’s getting late. We should…they’ll be expecting us for breakfast.”
He jerked away from her and started down the shore, angry with himself for falling under her spell. He was here for one reason, and one reason only. That reason didn’t involve a dalliance with a governess.
“Leo, are you coming?”
He didn’t answer, but continued, needing to get away, away from the unsettling emotions she stirred inside him.
“Leo,” she called out.
He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to turn toward her.
Cazzarola
, what did she want from him?
“Go back,” he snapped, and climbed up between two boulders.
“I’ll see you after lunch then, for lessons?”
He didn’t respond but disappeared into the safety of the trees.
The scent of earth and decay hovered heavy in the air, pressing down on his chest and making breathing difficult. Yet the pressure, the familiarity of being this close to the ground, the soft dirt cradling his body, brought comfort to his troubled mind. Hidden from view beneath the large, overlapping leaves of some subtropical plant that certainly didn’t belong in England, Leo felt almost safe. The leaves provided a hazy green canopy where he could disappear from sight, from duty, from life.
He could almost forget everything lying here. The fear, his hopes for revenge, the sight of his mother and father dead on the jungle floor. He could almost forget it all, when he thought of Ella. And that scared the hell out of him. He needed to stay focused on his goal and not on a pair of luscious lips that begged to be tasted.
A soft hum reached his ears, and every muscle in his body stiffened, immediately aware of her presence. A song he’d heard in childhood, but he couldn’t recall the words. A sweet voice that seeped through his blanket of greenery and made him want to part those leaves to listen more closely.
He smelled her first, the clean scent of dew, combined with an exotic rose. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Overhead, leaves rustled.
Ella cleared her throat.
He didn’t move.
She tried again.
He sighed.
“Leo?”
He peeked through his lashes to find her looming overhead, her hands on her hips. “You were supposed to meet me for lessons in the study this afternoon.”
He didn’t respond. There was something incredibly enthralling about getting her riled up, as if he were a child who wanted to poke at a snake.
She stepped closer to him, parting the leaves and sending dew drops scattering like diamond chips. “Leo.”
A low growl erupted from behind her. Ella’s eyes widened, and slowly, she turned. He heard her suck in her breath and almost smiled, eager to see this woman disconcerted. Just beyond his feet, the large black cat peeked through the vegetation, his ears flattened to his head and his white teeth gleaming.
Leo pushed himself to his elbows. “You’re interrupting his nap.”
“L…Leo,” she whispered. “W…what is that?”
“A cat.”
“That is no cat.”
“Careful, you may offend him.”
“Leo, that’s not amusing.”
The cat mewed like a kitten and plopped down on the ground, rolling to his side and gazing up at Ella with adoring eyes.
Leo frowned. Charlie had never adjusted so quickly to a stranger. Ella stepped back and stumbled over Leo’s feet. Losing her balance, she fell onto him with a gasp. Every soft curve of her body pressed against his, her luscious bottom cuddled against his groin. Heat roared through his veins. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to touch her, to bring her closer. The animal inside him wanted to take her right there. Rip her clothes off and watch the bliss cross her face as he tasted her. The small part of humanity that rested deep within prevented him from acting out his sexual fantasy.
“So sorry,” she muttered, rolling off him. “I’ve never seen anything like him. Will—will he attack?”
“Only if provoked,” Leo replied dryly, regretting his decision. What had he been thinking to keep her here? But he hadn’t expected to be attracted to the woman. “If you must know, he’s a big babe.”
Ella laughed and just as quickly as her fear had appeared, it seemed to disappear. “Why do I not believe you?”
Most women would be screaming by now. Leo narrowed his eyes. “Charlie’s missing a leg.”
Ella gasped and turned her attention to the animal. “What? Where?”
“I found him when he was only a year old, his leg caught in a trap.”
“Poor thing,” she whispered.
Was that pity in her eyes? Leo frowned. She looked as if she wanted to scoop the huge cat into her arms and cuddle him to her bosom.
“Which leg?” she asked, standing.
“The back,” he mumbled. The daft woman actually started toward Charlie. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “He doesn’t like strangers.”
“Oh.” She sank onto the ground next to him.
She didn’t seem to notice that her body pressed against his, but he did. Yes, he was very aware. He felt her touch like a burn. He resisted the urge to shift, to jump away from her. Slowly, his fingers dug into the damp earth as his heart raced in his chest. She was close…too close.
There amongst the plants, she looked like a fairy ready to bless the wildlife. And her lips, by the gods, her lips could make a man give up his fortune for just a taste, a nibble, a lick. So why didn’t he? If he wanted her, he could have her. He knew without a doubt she was attracted to him. He could smell it on her, feel it even now radiating from the warmth of her being. Her inexperience would make it easy to seduce her, so why did he hesitate?