Simone paused in her climb briefly, her mouth agape. She skipped up the stairs to catch up one more.
“Nick, he is aghost.I cannot control his actions anymore than I can yours.”
They had gained the upper level and Nicholas turned to her in the stone corridor. “And what is that to mean?”
Simone lifted her chin. “You do what you please, when you wish. You have yet to explain your whereabouts the night you left me in London, or your absence from the inn last eve—you weren’t in the common room,” she accused. “I checked.”
Nick blew a scoffing breath through his lips before turning and disappearing around a corner.
Simone followed, determined to not let him escape without an explanation and worried at what his answer would reveal. She trotted along behind him, her eyes on his wide, stiff back. His silence only served to increase her dread.
“You were with a prostitute, were you not?”
He did not turn. “Nay.”
“You lie!” she accused.
“God’s teeth,” he muttered, and then stopped before a massive carved door at the corridor’s end. His expression was impassive.
“Thentell me,” she demanded. “How am I to trust you if you will not confide in me? If you keep secrets?”
Nick looked at her for a long moment, as if debating on whether to answer her, and Simone held her breath. She wanted to have faith that he had not betrayed her, would not betray her, despite his promiscuous reputation. She just needed his assurance.
Simone’s hopes crashed.
“You shall have to solve that riddle on your own, I’m afraid,” he said, and then grasped the door handle and pushed open the door. He swept his arm toward the open portal, and Simone had no choice but to enter.
The Baron of Crane’s suite was beyond spacious. The large, square chamber was nearly the size of the great hall at Simone’s childhood home. Not one but two hearths faced each other from opposite sides, their openings so tall that Simone fancied she could stand in them upright.
Thick, sculpted rugs in bright blues and golds covered the smooth wood floor and two long, deep windows, complete with wide stone seats, welcomed the crisp night air. There were two silk dressing screens in opposite corners; chests and tables and sidechairs; tapestries and candelabras gracing the walls. But the centerpiece of the chamber, the item that took Simone’s breath, was the bed dominating the floor. She walked toward it with a gasp of pleasure.
“Oh, Nick!” She forgot her anger at him as she reached out to stroke one of the tall posts, intricately carved from a wood so dark—or so old—it appeared black. The post stretched up what seemed twice Simone’s height, and at its narrowed tip perched a carved, winged creature, seeming to peer down at her.
Simone could hear Nick’s smile in his voice. “You like it?”
“I’ve not seen its equal,” she breathed, craning her neck to admire the figures on the remaining three posts. The carvings adorning the bed were all fantastical: unicorns and other horned beasts chased each other around the wood in a slow spiral, frolicking, it seemed, with merfolk and fiery birds, minotaur and dragons. But the faeries were reserved for the tops of the posts, each one with slightly differing features and expressions, overlooking the chamber.
Nick moved to her side, and Simone shivered when he rested his hand on the small of her back. “’Twas my parents’, and my grandparents’ before them. This chamber was theirs as well.”
She turned her head to look up at him, expecting to see sadness at the mention of his deceased family, but his lips were curved in a faint smile.
“I love it. Truly,c’est magnifique.”
Nick raised a hand to brush at a wayward lock of hair framing Simone’s face. “I’m glad you are pleased. I wish for you to be happy at Hartmoore.”
Her heart beat heavy in her chest at Nick’s nearness, the solitude of the chamber. She wanted to close her eyes and freeze this moment in time, preserve the peace and intimacy she felt standing at the foot of this most symbolic piece of furniture, her husband at her side. He spoke of her happiness as if he truly meant it. An odd situation for Simone—no one had ever concerned themselves with her happiness before.
She took a deep breath, tucking the moment safely away in her heart. She rose up on her toes before she could stop herself and pressed her lips to the corner of Nick’s mouth. “Thank you, Nicholas,” she said before quickly retreating, her impetuous action causing her face to heat.
But before she could escape completely, Nick wrapped his arms about her, drawing her against him fully. Peering down at her, he asked, “So, you trust me not, Simone?”
She tilted her head and met his gaze. “Nay. How can I?”
His fingertips grazed light circles on her shoulder blades, and he nodded. “We have known each other only a very short time, and there are still many things you have yet to learn about me.”
Simone could barely think as his hands widened the path of his caresses. “What sort of things?”
Nicholas was silent for several moments, his eyes searching her face while his fingertips played their silent melody over her waist and ribs. “Naught of considerable import,” he said. “But a man must have council with his own thoughts. I will not bare my soul to you—it belongs only to me.” His hands paused. “I will never lie to you, though—this I vow.”
