CHAPTER 1
THORNHILL CASTLE
“Nowyou can open your eyes.”
Upon opening her eyes, Cecilia felt as though she had stepped back through time.
The hall through which she walked, arm in arm with Arthur, was of brooding dark stone. A vaulted ceiling was supported by massive timbers. Windows set to either side of the hall were tall and arched—they looked as though they belonged in a cathedral! The floor was of naked stone, though highly polished, and despite the finish, it bore the scars and scratches of its centuries of use.
“This is… remarkable. I cannot imagine living in such a place…” Cecilia gasped.
Her long auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in bouncing curls. She shared the same brown eyes and small, straight noseas her brother, and both possessed dimples in their cheeks when smiling—so deep, it wasn’t difficult to tell they were siblings.
Arthur nodded. “Neither can I. In all the times I have visited Lionel here, I cannot picture Thornhill Castle as anything other than cold, brooding, andpossiblyhaunted.”
He grinned and Cecilia returned the smile. “How exciting. I would love to share a house with a phantom.”
“But not the bloodless seventh Duke who walks the passageways of the east wing,” Arthur noted, grimacing in the manner of a gargoyle. “They say his throat was cut and when he was found, he was as white as snow. Now, he remains there, prepared to push unwary visitors down the tower stairs.”
Cecilia shuddered, though she knew her brother was exaggerating.
“I don’t see how an insubstantial wraith could push anyone down anything,” she said.
“By the force of sheer fright,” Arthur pointed out.
Cecilia playfully slapped his shoulder.
“Stop trying to frighten me, Artie. I am sure that this house is not nearly as frightening as its age makes it appear. It is…atmospheric,however.”
“Very,” Arthur agreed.
The babble of voices reached them from the far end of the hallway. A carved wooden screen divided the room at that point. It was painted to depict a grandiose scene from Teutonic mythology. A door was set into the screen, and as it opened, the sound of the other gathered guests grew in volume. A man stepped through the door and Cecilia immediately felt her heartbeat hasten.
“Ah, there you are, Penrose! Come and join us. Have you shown your sister around this moldering pile of stone I call home?” he uttered.
He was tall and broad-shouldered with short-cropped black hair. The darkness of his hair made his skin seem pale and emphasized his emerald, green eyes. His handsome features were completed by a Roman nose and full lips above a strong jaw. The man exuded strength and power. When those green eyes met her own, Cecilia found her breath quickening. She did not want to look away and found herself reminded of dark fairytales concerning seductive vampires. There was a physicality to him that made her acutely aware of her own body. By comparison to the muscle that seemed to make his clothing tight, her own curving hips and bosom felt soft. under those broad hands, she would be helpless, to be manipulated as he saw fit. She wetted her lips and forced a breathless smile as he approached them.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of being introduced. I am the Duke of Thornhill, Lionel Grisham.”
He did not smile. Nothing disturbed the marble stillness of his pale face. It was the visage from the mind of a Renaissance master artisan. There was the capacity for cruelty there and the potential for an implacable enemy. But, she fancied, there was also a vulnerability in the softness of his full lips.
“Thornhill,” Arthur suddenly hastened to say, “may I introduce my younger sister, Cecilia.”
Cecilia remembered to curtsy and put out her gloved hand. She felt Lionel’s lips brush her fingertips and experienced a moment of wild fantasy in which she imagined that kiss without the material of the gloves in between,
“My pleasure, Cecilia. Please call me Lionel, as your brother is wont to do,” Lionel added, releasing her hand.
She regretted the end of that touch but at the same time was glad. She knew that Lionel was engaged to be married, and would have been disappointed had he shown any sign of being one of those men who did not respect the sanctity of marriage. Or respect the woman to whom they were betrothed. She considered her parents to have been the perfect examples of marriage, devoted to each other and their children. Her father’s brother, Rupert, was the opposite. A rogue who chose his wife for her money and his mistresses for their youth and beauty. Cecilia had little experience with men, having only just reached her debut this year. No suitors had yet come forward. Or at least none that had passed Arthur’s ferocious protectiveness. He took seriously his responsibilities for his younger sister in the absence of their father and mother.
“That is most gracious of you,Lionel. I should be glad to,” Cecilia replied with a happy smile.
Arthur grinned but Lionel remained stony-faced.
“He never cracks a smile if he can help it,” Arthur stage-whispered to Cecilia.
Lionel’s eyebrows raised a fraction and he inclined his head.
“You only think so, Penrose, because you’ve never said anything humorous in my hearing.”
