He cocked his head to the side. “Years? I request you explain that to me.”
“It’s not a self-flattering realization to admit I have quietly pitied myself for my marriage to Darkford not being the marriage of my dreams. He wasniceto me. That is the best I can describe our relationship. I should have been content with that; however, I wasn’t.”
Lakehurst frowned, then pulled her onto his lap. “I can promise you,” he said as he pulled her closer, lowering his head to hers, “our marriage will not be nice,” he said softly before his lips descended on hers.
Cassie’s eyes flared wide at the rush of tingling feelings that flooded her, then her eyes closed as she gave herself up to his kiss, a kiss unlike anything she had felt before.
She felt so safe, secure, loved, and perhaps most importantly, wanted. Lakehurst wanted her, she felt it in his kiss and the way he held her. She thrilled at the sensations running wild through her. She raised her hand, her fingers spearing his thick dark red hair, pulling his head closer. Never had she felt, nor imagined the feelings he roused in her.
He lifted his head and she looked at him in wonder.
“Nice will not be a word to describe our relationship,” he told her. “Passionate, enthralling,” he said, kissing her after each word, “captivating, loving, ardent, enchanting, and,” he said, pausing as he looked at her, his eyes on her lips, “—lustful,” he finished softly with a wry, promising smile.
The parlor door burst open. “Cassie! He’s coming,” Gwinnie said running into the room before she saw them together.
“Oh! Pardon! But about time, brother of mine,” Gwinnie said severely, stopping and placing her hands on her hips. “But now isn’t the time for dalliance,” she continued. “That vicar is on his way here. I saw him from the ramparts.”
Lakehurst lifted Cassie from his lap and sat her back on the sofa. He rose. “How far away is he?” he asked as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Now? Probably ten minutes at the most.”
“I’ll go upstairs to freshen up,” Cassie said, rising to her feet as Ann and Ellinbourne came into the parlor.
Her brother looked her up and down. “That is a well-advised idea,” Ellinbourne said with a wink.
Cassie felt color flood her cheeks as she fled the room.
* * *
Lakehurst metMr. Fortesque in the great entrance hall. The man had dressed in somber clerical black, no bright waistcoat buttons on this day. He clasped his hands in front of him.
“I received a message from the Duke of Ellinbourne?” he said. His voice rose in a questioning tone. “He said Carlyle was dead, and he had been murdered?” Again, he spoke with that doubting, questioning tone in his voice.
“I am Ellinbourne. I sent you the note as was proper in our village. Without knowing, I assumed it was proper here as well and took it upon myself to send it for my sister, Lady Darkford.”
“You are Lady Darkford’s brother?” Mr. Fortesque frowned and leaned forward a little. “I was under the impression she was the daughter of a clergyman, that her sister is a governess in Boston I believe she told me one time, and that her brother is an artist.”
“That is all true. Our father was third in line to inherit the Ellinbourne dignities. When he and his brothers passed, as did their male issue, the title and properties landed on an artist’s shoulders, much to the dismay of several family members, including me.”
“Fascinating,” he said slowly. “And where is your sister, our Lady Darkford?”
“She is in her room, freshening up,” Lakehurst said. There was something about Fortesque’s manner that he couldn’t like; however, he couldn’t identify what aroused his displeasure.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I will go upstairs to freshen up before dinner, as I am quite windblown,” Gwinnie said.
“I as well,” said Ann, following Gwinnie out of the room.
Mr. Fortesque smirked. “I’m sure they were aware my next request would be to see the body and had no wish to accompany us on that regrettable task.”
Lakehurst did not like Fortesque referring to Carlyle asthe body. Surely he knew the man. “He is in the castle chapel,” Lakehurst told him. “This way,” he said, turning to lead him to the chapel.
They entered the chapel through the south door’s direct entry to the castle. Henry and Norton had left Carlyle in what had been formerly the west entrance narthex before the public entrance had been moved to the north side of the chapel. The massive entrance door which would have been on the west side in earlier times had been replaced with two gothic styled windows with trefoil arches supplanted by a cinquefoil design at the top using beveled clear glass in place of stained glass as used in original windows in the rest of the chapel.
The late afternoon sun shone on Carlyle’s still body. Lakehurst could see dust, like fairy glitter, sparkling in the moving sunlight. The man lay so still and peaceful. Lakehurst wondered if he’d ever felt peace in his life.
Mr. Fortesque walked up to where they’d placed Carlyle, then turned to look at Lakehurst and Ellinbourne.
“You say he was murdered. How did you determine this?” he asked.
