Portia looked around at the watchful faces, and Elf flashed her an encouraging smile.
“I love him,” she admitted.
Rothgar’s expression didn’t lighten. “Then you had best find him, don’t you think?”
Portia wished he would offer a little support and guidance. “I don’t know where to look.”
“It rather depends on whether he wants to be found. His rooms would be an optimistic place to start. Elf, could you play guide to this architectural mass?”
“Of course.” Elf took Portia’s hand to lead her from the room.
“And Portia,” said the marquess, halting them, “if necessary, scream very loudly. We have had our due allotment of violent deaths here for one year.”
Portia was trembling as Elf led her to the stairs.
Elf paused to smile. “Don’t worry. Bryght won’t harm you.”
“Can you be sure? I tried to shoot him. Again.” Her heart was racing and her knees were knocking, but it wasn’t so much fear of violence—though that was possible—as fear of rejection.
Elf laughed. “That’s probably part of your charm.”
Portia wasn’t sure she had any charm anymore. Bryght had said he loved her, but that was before she had betrayed him. Not betrayed him physically, but emotionally, in fearing the worst. In not trusting him.
They were in a side corridor and Elf stopped by a door. “Here we are.” She suddenly gathered Portia into her arms and hugged her. “It will be all right. Just be honest.”
With that, she turned and retraced her steps, not looking back to see what Portia would do.
Portia wiped a damp hand on her skirt. If there were any sensible alternatives she might have walked away from this door, but Bryght had to be faced. If he were here at all.
What if he didn’t want to be found?
She turned the knob and went in, to find only an empty room. Her heart turned to a painful lump in her chest.
It was a kind of study with a well-stocked library and desk, but with chairs by the fire and a sideboard bearing decanters and a bowl of fruit. It was a comfortable, well-used room which spoke to her senses of Bryght.
But he wasn’t here.
He didn’t want to be found.
Then she saw the half-open adjoining door to the bedroom. That room too looked empty, but she entered it anyway.
Bryght was leaning against the windowsill, stark naked.
Portia’s mouth dropped open.
“Naked to your malice or your love,” he said, and though his body concealed nothing, his feelings were cloaked.
Portia couldn’t see her way, and it appeared he wasn’t going to guide her. “I can’t say I’m sorry,” she whispered. “In the same situations, I would do the same things.”
“I know. But I have to know you’ll trust me in the future, that when you have doubts you’ll tell me of them, not run off on some crazy start.”
“Willyoutrust me?” she demanded. “You thought I was capable of committing adultery on my wedding night.”
His jaw twitched. “You’ve expressed a preference for Fort.”
“I’ve known him since we were children.”
“That hardly makes it better.”
