“The house itself is remarkable, don’t you agree? But not so difficult to construct as you might imagine. Brick makes wonderful ballast. I was able to have this all brought within the span of a few years.” He walked her along the hall and paused, pushing open a set of doors. A long, claw-footed mahogany table stretched before them. It would seat at least twenty people, she thought. “The formal dining room.”
“For those ‘state’ occasions?” she taunted.
“For negotiations,” he corrected. “Your very worth might well be negotiated right here, milady.”
“With whom do you negotiate?”
“No man fears to come here if he is invited, Lady Kinsdale. Your fiancé is well aware of the truth of those words. There is no safer haven upon the seas than this.”
He drew her out and closed the doors. Pointing toward the rear of the house, he told her, “The ballroom, milady. And occasionally we do have balls.”
He barely let her see the long room before he was whirling her around again and pulling her toward the stairway. It was big and broad with a velvet runner. A manservant polishing the banister bobbed to her and saluted the Hawk. “Sir, ’tis good to see you home, sir!”
“Mr. Tallingsworth, Lady Kinsdale. He, too, will be delighted to see to your every comfort.”
“Yes, milady,” Mr. Tallingsworth said.
She nodded skeptically and the Hawk continued to lead her upward. The second floor, too, seemed to stretch endlessly. He did not attempt to show her the length of it, but rather paused to the right side of the stairway, pushing open a door.
It was his room, she knew instantly. The dominant furniture within it was a huge four-poster bed in a dark walnut. Full-length windows lay open to the breeze coming off of the sea, making the room cool despite the heat of the day. There was a huge desk on the other side of the windows, and there were chairs and a daybed in front of a marble-manteled fireplace. In the center of the room was a fine cherrywood dining table, far more intimate than the large table downstairs.
“Your personal domain?” she inquired. She knew that he was watching her as she studied his room.
“Umm. Through here,” he said, and he took her hand, leading her to the back of the room. He opened a doorway there and they entered a second chamber, not much smaller than the first. But whereas the larger room had been beyond a doubt decorated for a man, this room was softer. It might have been decorated to resemble a lady’s chamber at Versailles. The delicate, white furniture appeared to be of French design. The drapes at the windows were sheer and trimmed with gold thread, and a gilded mirror hung over the fireplace. There was a card table and a huge wingback chair before the long windows, and the dressing table came complete with a set of silver combs and brushes. The chamber looked almost like a bride’s room.
“I’m to stay in the room next to yours?” she said. She was not afraid of the situation. At least she did not think that she was afraid. She had spent nearly a week aboard ship in the arms of the man and he had not, in any serious way, brought harm to her.
Indeed, he had come to her time after time, a bastion against the terrors of the night. She might well miss the security and warmth of his arms.…
Never! she assured herself hastily. Never…
He smiled. “The door locks.”
She cocked her head, meeting his eyes with a cynical smile. “And will I be able to lock you out, Captain Hawk?”
He did not answer right away, but took her hand within his. His fingers stroked it and his lips touched the back of it in the lightest caress. “Milady, locks lie within the heart or soul, and not upon the material earth.”
He released her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve things to attend to. I shall join you for supper, but it will be a late repast, I am afraid. Your belongings will be brought to you.”
He paused because she was smiling. He arched a brow. “What is it, Lady Kinsdale, that you find so amusing?”
“You.”
He stiffened. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Your manner, sir. You have dragged me about like a deer carcass at times, and now you are unerringly polite.”
“One never knows—does she?” he said lightly.
Shivers danced along her spine as his eyes met hers. No, she never knew. He kept her off balance at every moment. He made her furious, he made her afraid, and then he would whisper to her or touch her and give her sweet comfort. This week he had become her very life, and every other moment before he had swept upon her from the sea paled and faded before him. But it was true; she never knew. She never, never knew. What would the evening bring? Laughter or fury. Would he treat her like fine porcelain, would he drag her mercilessly into his arms…?
She backed away from him. He said no more, but turned and left her, going back through his own room. The door closed.
Skye sat upon the bed and trembled. How long would she be kept here in this prison? She was not cast into any dungeon, not beset with hardship.
This was far, far worse.…
She leaped to her feet and hurried to the door that connected her room to his.
