Page 55 of His Wicked Charm

God, she was beautiful. It was a crime she was so beautiful. And if he had thought so before, now that he had seen that slim white body, now that he had felt her move beneath him, she dazzled him even more.

He rested his forehead against the edge of the mantel. The truth was, he had never before been so shaken, so turned inside out, so shattered and put back together again as he had just now with Lilah. It had been a storm of heat and hunger, and when he had sheathed himself in her warmth, when he’d come to climax inside her, her voice a soft moan in his ear, it had been like coming home. No, that was far too tame a term. He had felt...perfect.

And wasn’t that mad? To feel such desire, such pleasure, in a woman who was so absolutely wrong for him.

He should leave. He didn’t have to find the key now. There wasn’t any immediate danger. In fact, he had the feeling that if he really examined his motive in coming here to find the key, it might have more to do with that wrongheaded desire for Lilah Holcutt than it did with solving the mystery.

The wise thing to do was to remove himself from temptation. No doubt Lilah would prefer not to have him around. Indeed, now that he thought about it, Lilah might very well ask him to leave.

That idea brought up a surge of alarm. However perverse it was, he didn’t want to go. He liked it here. He wanted to explore Lilah’s odd house; he wanted to see the Levels up close. He wanted to go through that maze again. The mystery of the key intrigued him even if it wasn’t necessary to resolve it right now. He wanted to figure out why Dearborn was so eager to get his hands on it.

The truth was, at the bottom of it, he didn’t want to leave Lilah. He liked looking at her. He enjoyed being around her, even if she was as frustrating as the devil. He could control his desire. It wasn’t as if he was some lust-craved maniac. After all, desire for her had been a low, nagging heat in him these past months, but he’d not done anything. He wouldn’t have done anything today if Lilah hadn’t been so willing, even eager. He doubted that she would be so receptive again. One could count on Lilah not to throw out teasing lures.

If she wanted him to leave, that would be a different matter...though he thought he could talk his way out of that. His mood brightened a bit. He worked his way down the hall, finding nothing, and finally, he decided to stop for the day. It was time for tea, and frankly, it was boring to search the rooms alone. Besides, he needed to check on Lilah, make sure she was all right.

To his surprise, he found Lilah sitting on a bench in the hall below, idly twirling her riding crop in her hand. Con eyed her somewhat warily. “Come to take the crop to me?”

Lilah, who had been looking down the hall the other way, started in surprise and turned to him. “What? Oh. No, of course not.” She rose to her feet, dropping the crop on the bench beside her.

“I thought you had gone home.” Con went down the last few steps.

“I decided not to. I walked around a bit and...and I thought.”

Con tightened, marshaling his arguments against returning to London.

“I hope that you will stay and continue to look for the key,” Lilah said, leaving him speechless. “I don’t want what happened today to put an end to our project.”

“Neither do I.” She had obviously tried to do her hair up again without a mirror, and it looked endearingly messy. Alluring. Con thought it best not to mention that. “I assure you that I won’t repeat my behavior.”

“Nor will I.” She tugged at the waist of her jacket. “We were...taken by surprise. In the future we’ll be more careful. We can agree that today was an unfortunate mistake, and there’s no need for blame or apology or protestations of feelings that don’t exist.” She looked at him uncertainly. “I don’t suppose one could call us friends exactly, but...I want things to be as they were between us.”

“So do I.” He smiled. “And I think we qualify as friends...just friends who disagree a bit.”

“Yes. Just so.” Lilah smiled, and Con realized that it was going to be damned difficult to stick to his promise.

They rode home, at first silent and ill at ease. Lilah brought up the topic of their search, and as they talked, the awkwardness gradually faded. Neither of them had discovered anything useful, and they agreed that their search was proving to be a daunting task.

“When you think about it,” Lilah said. “The thing could be almost anywhere. He didn’t even necessarily hide it in his house. It could be stuck under a rock somewhere.”

“We should ask your aunt about it.”

Lilah looked at him skeptically. “I doubt she would be of much help. She wasn’t even living here when Mr. Blair died.”

“Still, she must have known those three men better than we do. They all grew up together after all.” He flashed a sideways grin at her. “And you no longer have to try to keep me from talking to her.”

When they sat down to tea, Lilah brought up the subject. “Aunt Vesta, Con and I had a reason for coming here.”

Vesta gave a tinkling little laugh. “I knew that. Come, Lilah, I’m not that foolish. I’ve been home over a year, and you’ve never felt the need to visit before. What I don’t understand is why the two of you are at Carmoor.”

“We’re looking for a key,” Con said. “The Dearborns—”

“Niles Dearborn? That dreadful little man. I never did like him. He looks like a weasel. Have you noticed?”

“I share your opinion, ma’am. The thing is, the Dearborns are after a key. We think it’s something to do with the three men—your brother, Dearborn and Mr. Blair.”

“But why would you look for it at Carmoor?” She looked at him blankly. “They always met here. Surely Virgil would have been the one to hold a key.”

“You know about the key?” Lilah asked in surprise.