Strangely, she desired to comfort him, to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders and hold him close, to soothe whatever pain lay beneath his stern facade. But more than that… she yearned to be in his arms, to be claimed by him. The idea of yielding to his control sent a shudder through her, a heady mix of anticipationand need thrumming through her veins. She wanted to give in, to be dominated, to be shown what it meant to submit to his power…
These were not acceptable feelings. Were they? Decent people did not have such thoughts, did not give in to such lusts. Had the Viscount Kingsley done something to her? Tainted her? She felt guilt at possessing such feelings toward a man ever again.
Her breathing quickened as she thought that all she had to do was lean close for just a moment. Lean towards Julian and his hand might brush her…
“I will show you the chapel,” Julian burst, allowing his hand to drop at just the moment that Ester had decided to throw caution to the wind.
The loss of his proximity was a wrench to her. Suddenly, she thought that he must have bodily carried her back to this house from the mere, after dragging her from its depths. She had been cradled in his arms. It made her giddy with desire but also chagrined that she could not remember that night.
She followed him through the hall and along more dusty hallways. Sunlight spilled across their path, dust motes dancing in its beams.
Finally, they arrived at two doors with iron rings in their center. Julian seized them and pushed at the doors. They opened with a squeal of rusted hinges, and Ester gasped at the sight unveiled.
The space beyond was drenched in color and light. Stained glass windows at the far end scattered the sunlight into a cascade of reds, blues, and greens. Tall pillars supported a stone vaulted ceiling that seemed to touch the sky. The cool air pressed against Ester’s skin and her footsteps echoed in the space. For the first time in months, Ester felt a strange wash of calm as Julian closed the doors behind them.
“I am not especially spiritual,” he confessed, “any son of my father would be hard-pressed to be such. I grew up steeped in the lore of the ancients. Dark and mysterious.” He glanced around the space, his voice softening. “But this place... it has always captivated me. I come here when I wish to...”
“Quieten your mind,” Ester finished, speaking her own truth.
Julian looked at her in wonder for a long moment, then nodded sharply. “I was going to say soften the blow of drink, but you seem far more poetic with your phrasings,” he said with a faint smile.
Ester smiled too. She drifted forward into the gloriously colored space, her fingertips grazing the tops of pews that had gathered dust over the years since they had last held a congregation. A thrush flitted over her head and out of a small hole in the stonework of a side chapel where the wall met the ceiling. She beamed, envying the little bird and its freedom. If the same opportunity for escape was available to her though, would she take it?
At this moment… she could not say.
The sense of unreality lingered, as though she were wandering through the pages of a fairy tale. A part of her yearned to see the story unfold to its end. Unlike the thrush, her escape would not lead to freedom, but back to a life that stifled her.
“I have not asked, and you have not volunteered why I found you on that road last night,” Julian finally broke the silence.
Ester frowned and she spun to face him. He stood on the edge of the play of light from the stained glass. The shadow of a pillar held him in its embrace. His hair was as black as the shadow, and his face, white. She could see the blue eyes he had inherited from his mother though, clear, and vital.
How would he react if she told him everything? Told him the truth about herself. She was going to die, after all. What harm could it do? The instinct to be open with him was tempered by the fact that she had been sworn to secrecy about Kingsley by her father. It had been a solemn promise made to protect her, her sister, and her family. In everyone’s best interests.
But more than that, if she revealed the truth, would this stranger regard her as tainted as everyone else seemed to? She found she desperately didn’t want that.
“I was to meet a man,” she said finally.
“Oh,” Julian replied, looking away.
“Not for that reason,” Ester added hurriedly.
“It is none of my business,” Julian replied, equally hastily.
Ester rushed to his side and raised her hands, instinctively reaching to take his arm, desperate to communicate her honesty. It was as though there was an invisible barrier between them. She paused, aching to touch him.
“He is a man of rank, but not agentleman. I was to… pay him for his silence. To protect my family’s name,” Ester muttered.
She could not bring herself to admit to the assault she had been victim to. This was close enough to the truth but without breaking her promise or challenging his untarnished view of her.
“That is the reason you were carrying a bag full of gold? I did wonder.”
“How did you know about the money?” Ester suddenly asked. “Did you find it? Or the man that took it?”
“I thought him to be a highwayman. He ran into my horse and fell down the embankment. Then he ran away along the lake shore,” Julian explained.
Ester sighed. “For a moment, I hoped that you had recovered the bag I was forced to give to him. But, it would be too much to hope for and likely foolish.”
Julian hesitated, frowning. “Actually, I did find a satchel,” he admitted slowly. “It is in my study. I was originally planning tohave Caramond deliver it to the justice of the peace and have it returned to its rightful owner, but now I suspect the rightful owner is you.”
