The Lord Raven had been packing for a journey.
An effort he’d abandoned in great haste.
Like as not, the very moment he’d heard her and Anice ascending the tower stairs.
Gelis almost blurted one of her father’s choice epithets, but caught herself. She did put her hands on her hips. “That table by the window” — she glanced at Anice — “is that where you placed the repast?”
Looking miserable, the girl nodded.
“Just there, my lady.” Her gaze went to the heavy oaken table. “And a right feast it was. A fine joint of roasted mutton, spiced salmon pasties, jellied eggs, and even a platter of Cook’s fresh-baked honey cakes. Heaped high, those were, and sprinkled with ginger.”
“A feast, indeed,” Gelis agreed, unable to deny it.
That the girl spoke the truth stood out all over her.
Puzzled, Gelis picked her way across the clothes-cluttered room to the empty table. Not so much as a crumb marred the dark gleam of its scrubbed, age-blackened surface.
Therewasa lingering aroma of roasted mutton.
Faint, but definitely there.
Gelis sniffed the air, now catching a delicate hint of ginger as well.
“Could it be,” she began, turning back to Anice, “that the castle dogs snatched the food?”
She’d seen the great furry beasts when she’d first arrived and they’d rushed down the keep steps to greet her. Her father favored similar dogs, and they’d been known to devour greater spreads of victuals than Anice had described. True masters at the art of food-snatching, they could wolf down the offerings of a well-laden table and be gone before even the most watchful soul took note.
But Anice was shaking her head.
“Och, nae, it wouldn’t have been the dogs.” She looked sure of it. “They ne’er set foot in this room. Nary a one. They’re afeart —”
“Perhaps of the room’s master?” Gelis lifted one brow. “No one could blame them for that,” she quipped, unable to check herself this time. “I have scarce happened across a more stony-faced, cold-hearted man.”
“Do not think too ill of him, my lady.” The girl took a few steps into the room. “To be sure, he gave you a poor welcome, but he had his reasons.”
“No doubt,” Gelis agreed, trailing a finger along the smooth edge of the table. “A man twice married always has reasons. Either to seek a new wife or to avoid one.”
Unbidden, the Raven’s own words about his previous marriages rang in her ears. As terse as when he’d said them, they haunted her now.
Likewise, the shuttered expression that had crossed his face when he’d uttered them.
Is it so difficult to think I am not desirous of a third marriage?
Gelis straightened, putting back her shoulders before thoughts of his former wives could sour her mood. Already, she could imagine blissful evenings in this bedchamber. Candlelit coziness and leisurely repasts enjoyed at this very table where she stood. Endless hours of raw and heated pleasure in the massive four- poster bed across the room.
Perhaps a tumble across one of the three great bearskin rugs gracing the bedchamber floor.
Lusty tumbles, all naked limbs and hot, breath-stealing kisses and sighs.
Sinuous, carnal pleasures of the sort she’d likely never experience.
Not with a man determined to shun her.
A situation she refused to accept, she decided, furious at the direction her thoughts were taking.
She’d come abovestairs to plan a seduction. Not to stalk about a cold and messy bedchamber, pricked by needless jealousy over two faceless, dead-in-their-graves females who deserved only prayers and pity.
“Dinna look so downcast, my lady.” Anice took a few more steps into the room.
