Leo slowed the mount in front of the stables.
“There you are.” The stable master called out. “We wondered what happened to you when Sally returned with an empty saddle. The lad said he saw the young lord here come to your rescue.”
Ella blushed. Did they know? Had they seen them at the waterfall? Surely they wouldn’t have followed.
Leo didn’t say a word. The stable master helped her from the mount while Leo effortlessly slid from the beast. Without a farewell, he started down a trail.
“Leo,” she called out. “The dance instructor will be here early tomorrow. Will you be there?”
He kept walking.
“Leo?” she tried once more. The man didn’t bother to turn, didn’t even respond. Before she could read his feelings, he disappeared into the trees.
“Blasted man,” she snapped. Really, the first thing he needed to learn was manners.
“
Leo, wake, my love.
”
Leo’s lashes fluttered. “Mum?”
Slowly, her familiar features came into focus. Lantern light flickered over her pale face, while shimmering yellow flames danced in her wide eyes.
She lifted her finger to her lips. Without another word, she turned her back to him and peeked through the thin crack where the tent flaps refused to join. Orange shadows from the fire outside leapt against canvas walls, creating an eerie glow inside their dwelling. Each crack, each pop, each sizzle of the wood and cow dung made him jump.
Through the stillness of the night, low voices rumbled like thunder. Two? Three? Leo couldn’t tell how many.
His mum gasped, the sound harsh in the quiet. Before he could question her, she rushed to the trunk in the corner of the tent, her blue skirts billowing like the hot-air balloon they’d seen last week in Bombay.
“Leo,” his mum whispered, tossing his trousers to him. “Dress, hurry, we’ve no time to spare.”
With hands that trembled, Leo tugged his pants into place.
“But, Mum.” He shook his heavy leather boots to make sure nothing had slipped inside for a quick nap. “What is it? What’s happening?”
“Leo, go. Slip out the back and go to the village. It’s not far. You remember the path, don’t you, love? Please, you must get help.” She took his hand and pressed something round and cold into his palm. “Show them this. Tell them who your father is, and they will help. Promise them anything, Leo. Anything.”
Leo swallowed hard and nodded. When he opened his fist, he saw his father’s silver ring with open-mouthed lions on the sides and on top, a flower-shaped emerald. An emerald that seemed to pulse, that pulled him in until he felt as if he were falling…falling…falling
.
“How could you, Will?” his father asked in a hushed tone
.
Leo jerked his gaze from the ring to the shadowed forms outside
.
“The map belongs to the tribe. Do you have any idea what that power could do in the wrong hands? Will, you don’t have to do this. I will give you the money,” Father insisted
.
“Mum, who is—”
“You don’t deserve to be the keeper of the map,” an unfamiliar voice hissed. “I should say I’m sorry, but the truth is, I’m not.” The man swung his shadowed arm forward, and Leo stifled a cry.
“Archie,” his father yelled to his friend for help and the three men came together in a blob. Their shouts rang through the forest, mixing with the high-pitched screams of monkeys.
His mum pushed him toward the back of the tent. “Go, Leo, now, hurry.”
“Leo, wake up. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I overheard a beautiful woman downstairs asking after you.”
The deep familiar voice jerked him from the dredges of slumber. Leo bolted upright from his makeshift bed on the floor, his breath coming out in harsh pants.
Go, Leo, now, hurry
. His mother’s words still echoed through his mind. The same dream he dreamt every night since he was a child. He raked his hair from his face, ignoring the tremble of his hands. Would he never be left in peace?
Curtains were thrown wide, and sunlight burst into the room like an unwelcome visitor.
“You’re back,” he finally managed.
“Of course. And you sound thrilled to see me. Still forgoing the bed?”
“Too bloody soft,” Leo muttered. Realizing he’d never return to slumber with memories of death pulsing through his veins, Leo stood and rubbed the sleep from his face. “I take it since you never sent word, you failed to find anything of substance?”
Akshay paused near the windows, tall and slim, his hands on his hips and a brilliant smile lighting his tanned face. “Actually, I did. When your uncle went to the Continent, he took along his son.”
Leo stiffened, instantly awake. “Henry was there?”
Akshay nodded.
A shiver of unease raised the hairs on Leo’s skin.
Cazzarola
. Had Henry been an accomplice? At six years Leo’s senior, he would have been old enough. Blast, why couldn’t he remember more? Why hadn’t he stood his ground instead of running?
Akshay’s merry features caught his attention, and his ire grew. “And that fact makes you smile?”
Akshay spread his arms wide and breathed deeply. “Why not? The sun is shining, the birds are chirping—”
“I heard you the first time.” Leo stomped toward a pitcher and splashed water on his face, but the tepid liquid did little to ease his troubled mind.
“Are you going to tell me who the woman is downstairs? She looked so forlorn when she heard you were still abed.”
Leo patted his face dry with a towel. “Are you going to tell me what happened in London?”
“So surly this morn, what has you in such a temper?” Akshay collapsed his gangly body into a chair by the fireplace.
Leo tossed the towel onto a table. “Nothing. Everything. Not knowing. Being in England.” How off balance he’d felt since he arrived here, especially in the last few days.
“The girl?”
Leo stiffened, annoyed Akshay could so easily read him. “Do not be ridiculous. Another attempt on my grandfather’s part to tame the beast that is me.”
Akshay laughed. “Surely not a governess? She’s younger than you!”
Leo sent his friend a warning glare.
Akshay pressed his lips together, an obvious attempt to fight his mirth. “I see.”
How could he see? Leo barely saw. He was here to find his parents’ murderers, not dally with a woman…an Englishwoman…who made his body heat with a mere glance. He closed his eyes and swallowed. The image of her wet and glistening flashed to mind—it had taunted his dreams. At least for most of the night he hadn’t dreamt of the India, but he wasn’t sure which torment was worse.
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone…anything. Perhaps he admired her courage, or her innocence. Or perhaps he merely admired her soft curves. Gritting his teeth, he sucked in a slow, deep breath and pushed her from his mind. He must remain focused on his goal. Until he understood why his parents had been murdered, he’d never be free of their ghosts.
“So, will you go to this dance lesson I heard the girl speak of?”
Leo crossed his arms over his bare chest. “How much, exactly, did you overhear?”
Akshay’s grin deepened. “I’ve never seen you this upset over a woman.”
“I did not say it was because of…” He took in yet another deep breath and forced himself to uncurl his fisted hands. “Tell me about London.”
He would find his parent’s murderers. He would stay focused on his goal.
But even as Akshay started speaking about London, Leo’s mind slipped back to Ella and the confusing emotions she stirred within.
He wasn’t coming. She didn’t know why that realization depressed her so. Perhaps because she thought…well, that after yesterday they’d formed a bond of sorts. She sighed and looked longingly out the tall windows onto the gardens. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be here and inside all day. But here she was…waiting for him.
Always waiting.
Waiting for Grandfather to get well…waiting for her uncle to return home and whisk her away from the orphanage…and now waiting for Leo. It seemed her entire twenty years had revolved around others.
“
Mademoiselle
Finch,” Jean-Pierre’s deeply accented voice broke into her thoughts.
She turned to see the man standing there with his hands on his slim hips and his narrow face pinched into a tight frown.
“I can wait no longer.”
Her shoulders drooped. “I understand.”
She’d have to explain Leo’s absence to Lord Roberts, and she didn’t know if she could face the hurt in the old man’s eyes. How badly she wanted to walk out of the room, out of the castle. If she left, she and Fran would be without a home or a coin. With a sigh, she started toward the dance instructor. “I’m sorry. There must have been a misunderstanding. Perhaps he thought the lesson was at another time.”
Her necklace hummed under her bodice, growing warm, and she faltered. Automatically, her gaze jumped to the open doors. Leo stood there looking relaxed and unconcerned.
She pressed her hand to the pendant.
Leo
.
Blimey, did the necklace react to him? But no, it hadn’t yesterday at the pond. Why else would the pendant grow warm?
His broad shoulders filled out a shirt that hugged his chest, the white linen contrasting against his tanned skin.
“Monsieur,”
Jean-Pierre trilled, floating forward with hand extended. “So good to make your acquaintance.”
Leo glanced at the man but didn’t bother to take his hand. After a few moments of awkward silence, Jean-Pierre dropped his arm to his side. “Ah, yes. Shall we begin?”
Ella could scarcely believe he stood there, ready to learn. He’d been late, of course, but he actually came. She gave Leo a hesitant smile. He didn’t respond. She narrowed her eyes and tried to read the man.
Nothing.
His mind was blocked as if he’d built a stone wall around it, enclosing any thoughts.
“Well then.” Jean-Pierre swept away to speak with the woman seated at the pianoforte.
“I didn’t think you would come,” Ella said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
She felt a twinge of annoyance even as curiosity got the better of her. “So why did you?”
He was silent for a moment. Across the room resounded the soft trill of the pianoforte warming.
“Because I made a promise. I am honorable, Ella, no matter what others believe.”
“I never said you—”
Jean-Pierre clapped his hands, the sound echoing across the room. “Come, come, time to practice.”
Leo’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Ella feared he’d throw the dance instructor out the window as he had his paintings that first night. Fortunately, he merely followed Ella to the center of the room.
“Now, shall we start with the waltz?”
Ella turned and faced Leo, so close she could feel his body’s heat, and she wondered for one mad moment what it’d be like to run her hands down his chest. She couldn’t meet his intense gaze for fear he’d read her sinful thoughts, so instead she stared at his neck. But then she saw his pulse beating on the side of his throat and she had the ridiculous desire to lean forward and kiss the spot.
“Eye contact,” Jean-Pierre demanded. Ella’s gaze jumped to their instructor. “Not me, your partner.”
Her attention locked on Leo. In those amber and gold eyes she saw laughter. Her jaw clenched, and her ire grew. Well, let him deal with Jean-Pierre and see how amused he was.
“Arms up,” Jean-Pierre said. “Chins up, no meek misses here.”
Ella lifted her arms, feeling ridiculously like a bird about to take flight.
“Excellent, wonderful. Now, my lord, place your hand on her waist, just like so.”
Leo’s muscled arm pulled her close, and Ella’s necklace grew warmer.
She sucked in a breath, her mind spinning. It had to be him! The necklace must react to Leo’s presence. But why? And why only at certain times?
Leo’s hand rested at the small of her back, right where her vertebrae dipped. She felt every strong curve of his body, and her pulse raced at the contact. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep his scent…a male muskiness combined with the freshness of outdoors…soothing and exciting at the same time.
“Yes, well, not so close.” Jean-Pierre grasped her upper arms and yanked her back. “Now, hand upon his shoulder.”
Ella swallowed hard and rested the tips of her fingers on his broad shoulder.
“Hold hands,” Jean-Pierre declared.
Leo’s long fingers wrapped around her own, sending a shiver over her skin. How she wished she could read the man. And then he looked into her eyes and she wished for nothing, wanted for nothing.
In his arms, she felt small, delicate…nauseous.
“Now, your leg will come forward, like so.” Suddenly, Leo’s muscled thigh, hard and hot, pressed against her hip. Heat rushed through her body and she glanced longingly at the open windows, wishing for a cool breeze.
“Remember, darlings, this is a romantic dance, a sweeping dance,” Jean-Pierre called out. “Step back, Miss Finch.”
Ella stumbled back.
“No! No! Wrong foot!”
Ella stepped forward, and her foot landed directly on Leo’s boot. He quirked a brow, and his eyes sparkled with obvious amusement.
“No, no.
Merde!
” Jean-Pierre shook his head. “This is what happens when you allow riffraff into cultured society.” His voice was a low mumble, but she heard him all the same. She’d heard worse in Lady Buckley’s home. Apparently, Leo had heard the man too, for his gaze jumped to Jean-Pierre and his hold tightened.
He was angry? For her? She felt ridiculously pleased with that realization. But before Leo did something they’d all regret, Ella stepped back with the correct foot.
“Finally,” Jean-Pierre cried. “Dancing is an art; treat it as such.”
Ella sighed, relieved to have done something right.
“Now, one, two, three…create a box…two, three…turn…two, three.”
Leo swept Ella around in dizzying circles.
“You…you already know how to dance!” she got out in a breathless gasp as he moved her around the room.
“Of course not. I am merely a brilliant pupil.”
The pianoforte struck up a tune. Ella wasn’t sure if she danced correctly or not. Leo was in complete control, and she merely followed his lead.
“Marvelous! Brilliant.” Jean-Pierre cried from across the room. “Just ease up, my lord. You don’t want to eat her. Romantic, soft, not so demanding.”
Leo ignored the man, his gaze continuing to pierce her very soul as he twirled her from corner to corner. With his attention on her, she couldn’t seem to focus on dancing, or much of anything…but him.
“Yes, well, demanding works too, I suppose,” Jean-Pierre muttered.
Ella couldn’t help but laugh. It was ridiculous. She danced in a beautiful ballroom with a handsome man, while a strange Frenchman yelled directions from across the room. Ridiculous, yet lovely.