Chapter Three
Lying in Stefan’s bed later that night, Bryony relived every moment of being in his arms. Strong arms that felt like iron bands around her, yet held her ever so gently. His dark eyes had burned with the heat of his desire, his voice had been thick with yearning. A yearning for her. His kisses had been magical, warm yet demanding. They had awakened sensations within her that she had never known before. Feelings for which she had no name. How had he evoked such strong emotions with just his kisses? But it had been more than that. She felt as though he had branded her his in such a way that she would never want another man, and no other man would ever want her.
The thought made her laugh out loud. That was impossible. Yet the memory of his kisses kept her awake far into the night. And followed her into her dreams…
She walked through a meadow. The sun had set long since and she had only the pale silver light of the full moon to guide her, though she had no idea where she was going. And still she kept walking until she came upon a crypt located between two stone mountains. The nameRenaldowas carved above the door of the crypt. His family resting place perhaps? She had just turned around to go back when there was a grating sound behind her, like stone sliding over stone. Filled with a sudden, nameless terror, she risked aglance over her shoulder, and let out a terrified scream when Stefan emerged from the dark depths of the crypt…
The sound of her own cries woke her. Sitting up, she lit the lamp beside the bed, her gaze darting around the room. Only a dream, she thought, one hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart. Only a dream.
But it was a long time before she closed her eyes again.
Bryony woke to a morning that was bright and clear. Leanora arrived right on time. After breakfast, she helped Bryony dress for the day, brushed out her hair, and coiled it into a neat bun at her nape.
“I’ll be going into the village today,” Leanora remarked as she made up the bed. “Is there anything special you would like for supper?”
Bryony shrugged. “Surprise me. Oh! I would like some blueberry scones for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, miss.” The girl bobbed a curtsey and then left the room.
Bryony sighed, wishing she could go shopping with Leonora. She hadn’t been outside in days. It would be hours until dark. Hours until she saw Stefan again. Where did he spend the daylight hours? Did he have employment in the village? Did he spend his days working the land? He was a mystery, there was no doubt of that. And no doubt that his kisses were more potent than her father’s favorite brandy. She ran her tongue over her lips, certain she could still feel the touch of his mouth on hers, the crush of his arms around her, the rich, masculine scent that clung to him.
What was she thinking? She knew nothing about the man except that he was keeping her imprisoned in his houseagainst her will. He could be a murderer for all she knew. A molester of children, a defiler of women. A highwayman. Decent men didn’t imprison women. Just because he was incredibly handsome didn’t mean he was a saint. He certainly didn’t kiss like one, she mused with a faint smile.
She glanced at the bedchamber window and frowned. Would it open if she lifted the latch? Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Filled with excitement, she drew back the curtains and reached for the latch. And sighed her disappointment when it refused to budge. Not that it mattered. It was a long way to the ground below. She noticed a barn off to the right, a copse of trees, a mountain range in the distance.
She was about to turn away from the window when she spied movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head to the left, she saw a three-rail corral and let out a happy cry when she saw Daisy inside, standing next to a pair of dun-colored horses. If she ever found a way out of this house, at least she would have a way to get back home.
Leanora took her leave when the supper dishes had been washed and put away. Bryony watched enviously as the girl left the house with a cheery farewell.
As the minutes ticked by, Bryony grew more and more nervous, afraid Stefan would appear and kiss her again. Afraid that he wouldn’t.
And then, in the blink of an eye, he was there. He wore black again. She found it hard to imagine him in anything else.
“Bryony,” he murmured. “How lovely you look.” Her gown, made of midnight-blue velvet edged with white lace at the neck and cuffs, outlined every luscious curve.
His compliment pleased her more than it should have.
“I feel you are bored in this house,” he said. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
“Very much, but it’s dark outside.”
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
“A little.”
“Nothing can hurt you while I am with you.”
What an odd thing to say, Bryony thought, as she retrieved r cloak and followed him out the door. And yet she believed him.
The evening was damp and cool, the sky studded with lowering grey clouds that hid the moon and the stars.
“It is going to rain,” Stefan remarked, linking his arm with hers.
Her instinct was to pull away, but she could hardly see the path beneath her feet. He seemed to have no trouble. She could feel him watching her, his gaze so intense it was almost physical. What was he thinking? Had coming out here with him been a mistake? Still, it was nice to be outside and if he meant her any harm, he could attack her in the house as easily as out here.
“Tell me of your life,” he said. “Why did you run away from home?”
“My father has chosen a husband for me, a man I do not wish to marry.”
