“The fire is hot,” Graham defended.
“Whatever makes you feel better, Graham.” Jonas placed a consoling hand on Graham’s shoulder before looking around at their faces. “So, who is next?”
“I will go.” Owen’s arm snaked from behind her, trailing across her back and leaving a pleasant chill in its wake. He stood, rubbing his hands together. “And I have just the thing.” The faces around the fire all turned to him. Owen let silence fill the air for almost a full minute before tucking his hands into his cloak and looking to the ground. “His skin was white.” His eyes slowly lifted and stared absently at the fire. “As white as the snow that still hovers beneath the trees this very night.” His head seemed to float from side to side as he took a slow, deep breath. “If only she had known what he was. What he was capable of. But she only saw the face of an Adonis. A man so alluring she could not help but stare.”
Silence reigned as they all watched, captivated by the way Owen told the story. His movements were fluid, his words filled with inflection and his eyes glanced about as if worried such a man might produce himself at any moment.
“And one night, when the moon was shadowed by dark clouds creeping across the sky, he came to her. ‘You are too beautiful to walk alone,’ he said to her. ‘You must allow me to take you home.’ The woman agreed, excitement filling every part of her being.”
Leah watched, almost in a trance as he told his tale. She could not deny it was a rather chilling story. But as he told it, she watched the way the fire seemed to constantly change his appearance. One moment his brow was shadowed and his eyes lit, and the next, his whole face seemed to glow in the flickering light. It only added to the eeriness of his tale.
Owen reached down, grabbing a branch and watching it as he traced the tip along the ground. “When they came to an alleyway, the man stopped.” The twig in his grasp snapped as he pressed it into the ground, causing every one of them to jump. Owen’s face gave way to a quick smile before returning to its stoic state. “He told her of her exquisite beauty and that she was above all other women, having entranced him so fully that he needed her—if only to continue breathing. Seduced by his words and looks, she followed him, not knowing what fate would befall her. She did not care. His beauty and compliments captivated her in such a way that her thoughts were few.”
Cecily’s eyes were wide and she leaned forward. “Then what happened?”
Owen slowly slid his gaze over to her. “They walked into the shadows, but the young woman was never seen again.” He stood in a heavy silence before taking his seat beside Leah. He leaned over, whispering. “So, Leah—”
She turned toward him, bringing their faces only inches apart. Neither of them spoke, and the same tension from earlier crackled in the small space between them.
The chords in Owen’s neck strained as he swallowed. “Are you scared?”
Leah took a quivering breath. “Terrified.”
Chapter 17
Owen. Christmas. The fifth day.
Christmasmorningbeganwithdark clouds smattering the sky, but they soon broke free and allowed the sun to shine. The day passed similarly to the others, but Owen hadn’t found a moment to speak with Leah. Tomorrow he would leave and there wasn’t much time left to decide what he was to do with these new feelings. She felt it too. That much he was sure of. He wasn’t imagining the stolen and lingering glances, nor had he imagined the look in her eye when he had almost kissed her yesterday. And he meant to do something about it if it was the only thing he accomplished that day.
The Cluetts were to join them for dinner that evening to celebrate together. That meant Leah’s friend Amelia would likely be occupying much of her time and attention. Now, he would need to patiently wait for the meal to be over and try to find a moment alone.
He readied for dinner with more care than usual, fussing with his hair and cravat so much that he was almost late to the table. Leah watched him as he strode down the staircase, with a young lady standing beside her. Likely Miss Cluett.
“Good evening,” Owen said, coming over to them.
The friend discreetly raised a brow, turning to Leah with a grin.
Leah cleared her throat. “Amelia, this is our family’s friend, Mr. Turner. Mr. Turner, this is Miss Amelia Cluett.”
Owen dipped his head. “A pleasure, Miss Cluett. A friend of the Thompsons is a friend of mine.”
Miss Cluett dipped into a curtsey. “A pleasure to be sure.” She glanced at Leah from the corner of her eye.
“For all our sakes, I hope that the meal is more to Miss Thompson’s liking. She was rather displeased with the courses a few nights ago.”
“Oh?” Miss Cluett smiled.
“Yes. They served not only pea soup, but a rather colorful aspic as well. She was rather disappointed.”
Miss Cluett laughed. “Yes, well, Leah does hate those very things.”
Leah brought her eyes to his and he longed to take her hand. To whisper in her ear how beautiful she looked tonight. All day long he had wished for a private audience and time seemed to be slipping from his hands like sand through an hourglass.
He had a job to return to but he couldn’t simply leave things as they were between the two of them. Nor did he think he was capable of going back to thinking of her as Jonas’ vexing sister.
She was his counterpart. The push to his pull.
Owen couldn’t stand it anymore, stepping to Leah and gently touching her shoulder as he led her to the edge of the room.
