“And I promise to tempt you as you’ve never been tempted before,” he said huskily.
His words made her long to cast her inhibitions away, to welcome him into her arms. But she was afraid to trust him, afraid that he’d betray her again.
“You can try,” she said at last, terrified of what she had just agreed to.
Chapter Fourteen
EmilyheldVictoriatightlyin her arms while the baby grabbed fistfuls of her hair. Dr. Parsons offered a small bottle of tonic. “Give this to her before she sleeps at night. It will ease her pain,” he said. “Her ears are troubling her.”
Stephen had suspected as much, but if the physician’s reassurances brought Emily comfort, so much the better. He was grateful Victoria would not endure another night like the last one. He hid a yawn, hoping to rest before tonight.
But first, he needed to make further progress on the identity of his assailant. The only definitive link between himself, Carstairs and Hollingford was the tattoo.
When he entered the library, he rummaged through his desk for paper to make a list when he saw Royce hiding behind the curtains.
“You may as well come out. I can see you hiding there.”
Royce peered out from behind the heavy curtain. Stephen saw the boy holding a tattered book. When he drew nearer, Royce tried to hide it behind his back.
“What are you reading there?”
“Nothing.”
“May I have a look?”
He stretched out his hand, but Royce shook his head. “It’s mine.”
Stephen sat down beside the boy, crossing his legs. “If it’s so interesting, why don’t you read it to me? Perhaps I’d enjoy it.” He tilted his head to the side to make out the title:The Perfumed Garden.
He bit back a laugh. He had to give the boy credit for pinching one of the more interesting books out of his library. As he recalled, the book described several sensual positions of lovemaking. Like as not, the boy could not read it since the entire manual was written in French.
“Is it a good story?” he asked, pretending as though he didn’t know what the book was about.
Royce frowned. “It has nice pictures.”
I’m sure it does, Stephen thought wryly. Emily would have Royce’s head on a pike if she knew what he was reading. Still, Royce wasn’t the first lad to find such a book.
“I could use your help in a small matter, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“I’m reading,” Royce said. “I haven’t the time just now.”
He considered whether to confiscate the book, but it would only deepen the boy’s enmity toward him. Instead, he decided to divert his attention. “It’s about the tattoo you said your father had.”
Royce’s ears perked up in interest. He closed the book, as if trying to decide whether or not to give Stephen his attention.
“You see, I’d like to make a copy of the design to learn what it means,” Stephen continued. “But it’s on the back of my neck, and I cannot see it properly. Would you hold a mirror for me?”
“I’m busy,” Royce argued.
Stephen was never one to turn away from a challenge. If it meant using his wits to convince the lad, so be it. He was counting on the child’s natural curiosity.
First, he rang for Farnsworth and ordered two mirrors. Royce had not moved but was now studying a pair of lovers engaged in a spread-eagle position. Stephen resisted the urge to comment.
When Farnsworth returned, he carried a covered silver platter, along with the mirrors. “My lord, Lady Whitmore sent this.” He set the platter upon the desk.
Now what was Emily up to? Stephen lifted the cover and found a plate neatly covered with slices of pound cake. Atop the cake rested luscious strawberry halves, drenched in sweet cream.
He tasted the dessert, savoring its sweetness. Whether it was an apology or a bribe, he didn’t know. Perhaps both. He did know that she enjoyed baking, and it had taken time and care to make this.
