Page 73 of His Wicked Charm

“I know. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall, his familiar half smile on his lips.

Lilah wanted suddenly, shockingly, to take that plump lower lip between her teeth and nibble at it. She drew in a sharp little breath and whipped around, heading to the stairs.

“Well?” Con levered himself away from the wall. “Will you be here tonight?”

Lilah paused on the steps. She didn’t turn around; she hated to think what Con’s sharp eyes might see on her face. “You know I will.”

* * *

THE EVENING DRAGGED, and Lilah retired to her room as soon as she could without causing comment. Cuddington was something of a problem; she would find it decidedly odd if Lilah didn’t change out of her evening dress. In the end, Lilah rang for the maid and went through her usual nighttime ritual.

After she left, Lilah changed back into a comfortable sacque dress, which she could fasten herself and wrapped her hair up into a knot atop her head. It was messier than Cuddington’s creations and listed a bit to one side, but it would have to do.

Lilah turned out her lamp and sat down to wait. Sitting here in the darkness, listening for the sounds of the others coming up to bed, she had nothing to do but think about what she was doing. It was foolish. Unnecessary. Dangerous.

All the same things could be said for Con.

It was a welcome reprieve from her thoughts when footsteps sounded on the stairs. She heard Aunt Vesta’s voice saying a cheery good-night and Sir Jasper’s polite response, then Con’s. Doors closed. But still, she waited to make sure that everyone was safely in bed.

Finally she opened her door, unable to bear it any longer, and slipped down the shadowed, silent corridor. She had worn her soft bedroom slippers, and she would have gotten down the staircase without a sound if she hadn’t stepped on a tread that squeaked.

Freezing, she waited, then continued in the same stealthy manner. It occurred to her that it was absurd to be sneaking about like a thief in her own house. The soft glow of light from the library told her that Con was already waiting for her there. The man must move like a cat; she hadn’t heard a sound.

Con was, indeed, lolling in a chair without a jacket, waistcoat or tie, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Lilah’s eyes went involuntarily to the small V that showed at his neck, the shadowy, almost-vulnerable hollow of his throat in sharp contrast to the hard line of his collarbone. She had the most shocking urge to press her lips against it, to trace the shallow dip with her tongue.

Con rose to meet her, picking up the small kerosene lamp from the table. Walking down the hushed corridor with Con seemed furtive, even illicit, and the atmosphere was only accentuated by the flickering shadows cast by the lamplight. Lilah knew she should be appalled by her actions, but what she felt was excitement.

Inside the tower room, Con set the lamp on the desk and began his search there. As Con ransacked the drawers, looking for hidden compartments, Lilah started on a nearby cabinet. It was a mundane task, but the hush, the time of night, their secrecy lent it all an eerie quality.

Lilah went through one cabinet, which contained only more compasses. She moved on to a short cabinet beside the desk, but when she tried to open the door, it stayed firmly shut. She tugged on the handle again. “Con... This one’s locked.”

“That sounds promising.” Con fished around in the drawers of the desk. “No key in here. Damn. I should have brought my lock picks.”

“Surely this can’t be the key we’re looking for.”

“I doubt it.” Con glanced around and picked up a letter opener, then sat down on the floor to work on the lock. “If it is, it’s a severe disappointment because this lock is easy.” He opened the door.

“Oh. It’s only books.”

“Don’t discount it. Books can be handy hiding spaces.” Con began to pull out the volumes and set them on the floor beside him.

Lilah joined him on the floor, picking up the top book of the stack. She went still when she saw the one below it. It was bound in dark green leather; on the cover, printed in gilt, was a circle filled with tangled branches. Three triple spirals were evenly spaced above the figure. A leather strap fastened with a metal clasp held the book closed.

“Con...” Lilah reached down to touch the cover. “Look.”

“Those spirals. Triskeles. What’s this in the middle that looks like branches or maybe roots?”

“Both. Branches above and roots below. It’s the Tree of Life. That’s another thing you’ll find on artifacts around here.” Her stomach quivered, and she felt a trifle breathless.

“You think it’s something to do with the key?” Con was watching her rather than the book. “Lilah, you sense something about this book.”

“No. I don’t know.” She found herself curiously reluctant to open it.

Con had no such qualms. Flipping up the little latch, he opened the book, fanning through it. “No cutout with a key inside. Just a lot of writing...by hand, it’s not printed. You think it’s your grandfather’s journal?” His voice rose with interest. “Your aunt said he was interested in the ancient religions.”

“I don’t know.” Lilah leaned closer to him, turning to the frontispiece. The Tree of Life was printed here as well, but beneath it, cupping the circle, were three words in Latin: Fortis Voluntas Fratronis.

“The strong will of brotherhood.” He looked at Lilah. “Aunt Vesta said they called themselves the Brothers of something.”