Beauty and the Brooding Lord Page 12

  ‘Pull up,’ shouted Quinn as they thundered towards it. ‘Pull up, for God’s sake!’

  For one searing moment he thought Crystal had bolted and would crash into the tower, then he heard Serena laugh and at the very last moment she swung the mare away. The avenue had once extended past the tower to the very edge of Melham land, but it had been allowed to fall into disuse, and no more than a hundred yards beyond the tower was a mass of unkempt bushes and trees.

  Quinn brought Neptune to a plunging halt and watched as Serena slowed the mare and brought her back towards him. He was torn between admiration of her skill and blazing anger at her reckless behaviour. She was smiling, her cheeks glowing from the exercise and her eyes sparkling. She had never looked so beautiful.

  By heaven, if this is the real Serena then she will lead me a merry dance.

  He said with a calm he was far from feeling, ‘A trifle foolhardy, don’t you think, to ride like that on a horse you do not know, over unknown ground?’

  She looked a little conscience-stricken, but her eyes were still shining, which pleased him.

  ‘I beg your pardon. I had not realised just how much I missed riding.’ She glanced up at the tower. ‘What a grand edifice. Can we go inside?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He jumped down and tied Neptune’s reins to a bush. When he turned back, Serena had already dismounted and was following suit with the mare. He was disappointed that she had not waited for him to help her down. He would have liked the excuse to hold her in his arms.

  * * *

  Serena took her time fastening Crystal’s reins to a branch. The heady exhilaration was fading and she was regretting her recklessness. Not that Quinn was angry with her, quite the opposite, but even now she felt the panic rising when she recalled the glow of admiration in his eyes. It was so confusing, because she really did want him to admire her, to desire her. When he smiled at her she wanted nothing more than to melt into his embrace and yet she could not overcome the black, chilling terror at the thought of being in any man’s arms.

  She wished she had not dismounted, for now he would have to help her up into the saddle again and that would mean standing close to him, breathing in his scent, the mix of soap and leather and spices that was so strangely intoxicating. She was afraid she might do something rash, like throw her arms about his neck and beg him to kiss her.

  Such an action was fraught with danger. She could not be certain that he would want to kiss her and if he did, she might recoil, as she had done before. That would make him angry or, even worse, leave him wounded and unhappy. Then there was Dorothea’s assertion that such forward behaviour in a wife would disgust any decent man and Serena had no doubt her husband was a good man.

  Quinn was standing by the tower’s bleached oak door. ‘Well, shall we go in?’

  ‘Is it not locked?’ she asked, walking over to him.

  ‘Of course, although it is doubtful if anyone would ever stray this far into the park.’ He reached up to a small crevice between two of the stone blocks and pulled out a large iron key. ‘So now you are one of the privileged few who know the secret.’

  The smile that accompanied his words caused a sudden fluttering inside Serena, as if someone had opened a sack full of butterflies. She dragged her eyes away from his mouth and fixed them on the oak door, but even the sight of him turning the key in the lock made her tremble as she imagined those same fingers on her bare skin.

  The door opened and she gave a nervous laugh. ‘I expected it to creak, like something from a Gothic novel.’

  ‘The tower is well maintained.’

  He stood back to let her precede him into the gloom. The only light came from the open door and a small window set high up in the walls. ‘This area was only ever used for storage. The main chamber is above us.’ He glanced down at her. ‘You are shivering. Are you afraid?’

  She could not speak of it, the sudden terrifying memory that had assailed her. Cruel hands around her throat and blackness so deep it made her tremble. She said instead, ‘It is very dark, after the bright sunshine.’

  ‘Let me guide you, I will go first.’

  He took her hand and drew her towards the stone steps built against the far wall. The terror faded as quickly as it had come. There was something comforting about the way Quinn’s huge, warm hand enclosed her fingers. He would protect her from anything and anyone who threatened harm.

  But he cannot protect you from yourself, Serena.

  The steps opened directly into the main chamber, which boasted windows on all four sides. A large fireplace was built across one corner, with another set of stairs in the opposite corner, leading upwards.

  ‘On inclement days, guests could watch the hunt from here,’ Quinn told her.

  He was still holding her hand and she was far too aware of him. She was torn between wanting to cling tighter and running for her life.

  ‘It is a lovely, light room,’ she said at last. She gently freed her fingers and walked from one window to the next. ‘And the views are spectacular. One cannot quite see over the rise to Melham but there are wonderful views over the park.’ Turning back, she looked about the room, anywhere rather than at Quinn. ‘If it was furnished with a table and chairs, and a thick carpet over the flags, one might dine here very comfortably. A small party, of course, just a few friends. Or it would make a wonderful retreat from the world,’ she went on, her imagination taking flight. ‘Somewhere one might read in peace and solitude. Or sketch, perhaps.’

  Her thoughts ran on. What a wonderful place this would be for a young boy to act out his adventures. His own little kingdom. A castle, perhaps, or a ship at sea.

  ‘I suppose you are right,’ said Quinn, coming to stand beside her. ‘I never spent much time in here.’

  She turned towards him. ‘Did you ever play here? It would make a fine lair.’

  ‘When I was a child this place was forbidden. I only remember being chased away from it. I suppose the adults were afraid we might come upon them indulging in an illicit liaison.’

  ‘Your parents’ guests?’

  ‘Not only guests,’ he said bitterly. ‘My parents used it, too, on the rare occasions they were here. Although not together. Never together.’

  The bleakness in his eyes was chilling. She wanted to reach out to him, to kiss away the pain, but what right had she? He might turn away. He might reject her.

  For all that she could not resist laying a hand gently on his arm. ‘May we go up to the roof?’

  Her words seemed to bring Quinn back from a dark place. She watched as he almost physically shrugged off his memories.

  He did not take her hand this time and she followed him up the stairs to where another solid oak door opened outwards on to a flagged walkway. The wind gusted around them, but Serena barely noticed it as she slowly made her way around the parapet, drinking in the view. From here she could see the church and the village. Closer, just visible over the hill on the southern side, was the stone and timber square of Melham Court with its red-tiled roof and the tall brick chimneys reaching towards the sky. In the other direction, the woods stretched away into the distance, a thick bubbling blanket in a dozen shades of green.

  ‘Look.’ Quinn put one hand on her shoulder, the other stretching out towards a grassy knoll. ‘Red deer.’

  A small herd were grazing peacefully, watched over by a lordly stag.

  Serena gave a small sigh. ‘How privileged we are, to be able to stand here and see such beauty.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  There was something in the way he spoke the word, his voice slow and deep, that set Serena’s body tingling. His hand still rested lightly on her shoulder and she held her breath, imagining his fingers tightening their hold, turning her about so that he might kiss her.

  Her stomach swooped at the thought. She wanted it to happen. She wanted it so badly she was
tempted to turn and drag his head down towards her. She fought against it. Her forward behaviour had already brought her to the point of ruin once and she was terrified that it would repel Quinn. She must keep quite still and savour the intimacy of standing thus, with her husband. The effort proved too much. She shivered and Quinn’s hand dropped.

  ‘Is it too cold for you? We should go inside.’

  ‘No, I am not cold.’ The moment had gone, disappearing like smoke. She sighed. ‘But perhaps we should be getting back.’

  * * *

  The scene on the rooftop replayed itself over and over in Quinn’s head as they made their way from the tower. He was enjoying showing Serena his world—her world now, too. When she had remarked on the view he had wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that she enhanced its beauty but he had hesitated. Soft words and compliments were not his style. And besides, she did not want his advances. Even his hand on her shoulder had made her shudder. Now she was standing beside him as he locked the door and replaced the key in its hiding place. She looked sad and he wanted desperately to make her smile again.

  As they walked back to the horses he said, ‘It is time we made use of the tower. I shall have the chimney swept and then you shall furnish it. There is plenty of spare furniture in the house, ask Mrs Talbot to show you. But if nothing suits then you must buy more.’

  ‘How would you wish it furnished?’

  ‘That is for you to decide. It can be your own private tower, where you may retire whenever you wish to be alone. Read, draw, whatever you wish to do. No one shall intrude upon you there.’

  ‘Th-thank you.’

  He threw her up into the saddle and when she was secure he untied the reins and handed them to her.

  ‘Melham Court is your home now, Serena. I want you to be happy here. The tower shall be your retreat from the world.’

  With that he turned to mount Neptune. There. He had said it. He had given her permission to shut herself away from the world. From him.

  They rode directly to the stable yard, where the grooms were waiting to run to the horses’ heads. Once again Serena dismounted before Quinn could help her, but she did not refuse his arm for the short walk back to the house.

  ‘Thank you for buying Crystal, Quinn. She is perfect. I enjoyed our ride together.’

  ‘And I.’ He glanced back at the clock as they entered the main courtyard. ‘I had not realised it was so late. There is barely an hour until dinner.’

  ‘That should be sufficient,’ she told him. ‘I gave orders before we left that we would need hot water upon our return. I am learning to be a good housewife, you see, my lord.’

  Her shy smile lifted his spirits as he led her into the hall. He thought she would make directly for the stairs, but she stopped.

  ‘I have been thinking about the tower,’ she said, stripping off her gloves. ‘With your permission, sir, I would like it to be a little parlour, with comfortable chairs where we may sit, if we wish, but I should also like to add a dining table. We might dine alone, or invite friends to join us. Perhaps in the summer, when we might go up on to the roof after dinner and watch the sun setting. The views are too special to be kept for us alone. I should like to share them. To share the happiness they bring.’

  Where we may sit!

  A glow of pleasure warmed Quinn’s heart at her words, but he said carefully, ‘An admirable idea, my dear, but are you sure that is what you wish?’

  ‘It is.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I should like to replace the memories you have of the tower with happier ones, my lord.’

  And with that she turned and hurried away, leaving Quinn to stare after her.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Well, madam, if you don’t like any of these, what will you wear tonight?’

  Serena looked at the gowns spread over the bed. She was still glowing from the glorious afternoon spent riding with Quinn, although the happiness was fading a little now. Quinn was right about her wardrobe. Dorothea had called her dresses decorous. The old Serena would have said they were uniformly dull.

  How had it come to this? she wondered. Her sister-in-law had disposed of all her lovely gowns and turned her into a dowd. Anger roiled inside her. At Dorothea, a little, but mainly at herself for allowing it.

  ‘Do we have any of my old gowns, Polly, besides my riding habit?’

  ‘No, ma’am. Lady Hambridge took them all away, saying you would not be needing them.’

  Sighing, Serena returned to the selection of gowns in front of her and picked out the charcoal grey with its cream embroidery. It was severe but at least it did not make her look sallow. And she might leave off the bertha, the cape-like lace collar and ruff that covered the low neckline.

  ‘And on your hair, madam? Will it be the matching cap?’ Polly added, coaxingly, ‘The lace edging is very fine.’

  ‘It is indeed,’ agreed Serena. ‘I remember Dorothea telling me how expensive it was.’

  Polly looked relieved. ‘Well then, madam, will you wear it?’

  * * *

  Quinn came downstairs in good time for dinner. In fact, he knew he was early, for the long case clock in the great hall had only just begun to chime the hour. The ride that afternoon had sharpened his appetite and he hoped Serena would not keep him waiting. Not that she had ever done so yet, he thought, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. She was not one of those fashionable beauties who lost track of time while sitting at their dressing table.

  The smile grew as he entered the drawing room to see his wife was already there, gazing out of the window at the gardens, which were bathed in evening sunlight on the far side of the moat. She had her back to him but he was struck by the pleasing image she presented. Her curls were swept up on her head, enhancing the graceful line of her neck above the dark gown. Desire stirred and it positively leapt when she turned around and he saw the tantalising amount of satin-smooth skin exposed by the low décolletage. His gaze lingered on the creamy swell of her breasts. By heaven, he had not expected to lust after his own wife.

  Quinn dragged his eyes away. Serena was a wife in name only and would remain so until she chose to change that.

  He kept his eyes firmly on her face as she came towards him, but it did nothing to lessen the attraction. The afternoon’s exertion had brought more colour to her cheeks. There was even the suggestion of a sparkle in her eyes.

  ‘Good evening, my lord. I have chosen the least nun-like of my gowns. I hope you do not disapprove?’

  His eyes narrowed. Was she teasing him? That explained the sparkle.

  ‘Only the colour, my dear. It is quite funereal. Mayhap Lady Hambridge anticipated you would drive me to an early grave.’

  She laughed at that. ‘Mayhap she did. Dunnock tells me dinner can be served as soon as we wish, so shall we go in? We have only ourselves to please, after all.’

  ‘By all means.’ He gave her a searching look as he offered her his arm. ‘Are you a mind-reader, too, Serena? Did you know I am decidedly sharp-set this evening?’

  She shook her head, flushing. ‘By no means, but I confess that I am very hungry, too.’

  * * *

  They sat down to dinner very much in harmony, and the accord lasted throughout the evening. Conversation had always flowed easily between them but this evening it was even more pleasurable. Quinn did not linger over his brandy, preferring his wife’s company, but when he returned to the drawing room he found her a trifle preoccupied.

  He knew what it was, of course. He had seen the nervous shadow flicker across her eyes when he looked at her. She knew he desired her but, confound it, had he not given his word he would not rush her? He wanted to remind her, but was afraid it would destroy the easy camaraderie they had been enjoying. So instead they talked of horses and riding, of his plans for the estate and tomorrow’s dinner with Tony and Charlotte.

  He said, try
ing for a light-hearted note, ‘We must soon invite more than just the Beckfords to our table.’

  ‘It will be expected, my lord, now you have a wife.’

  There it was again. The faintest tremor on that last word. He glanced at the clock.

  ‘It is nearing eleven. You must be fatigued after so much time out of doors today.’

  Serena longed to tell him she was not at all tired. She wanted to say how much she enjoyed his company, to stay and converse with him into the early hours, and then to have him invite her to his bed. But Quinn was already rising from his seat, clearly anxious for her to go. Earlier she thought she had seen admiration in his eyes and perhaps a hint of desire, too. But not enough.

  ‘Yes of course.’ She rose and shook out her skirts while Quinn opened the door for her. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’

  He caught her hand as she went to pass him, obliging her to stop. He lifted her fingers to his lips, the veriest touch, but it sent fiery darts racing through her blood. Her eyes flew to his face.

  He smiled. ‘Goodnight, Serena. Sleep well.’

  She hurried up the stairs. Sleep! How could she sleep when he had roused in her an indefinable yearning for she knew not what? When she reached the landing she slowed. She was not being honest. She knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted Quinn to sweep her off her feet and take her to bed. Just the thought of it set her spine tingling. But he had told her he would not force himself upon her. When they consummated their marriage, it would be her decision. Did that mean going to his room?

  A shimmer of anxiety ran through her. Such wanton behaviour would go against everything she had been told a husband wanted in a wife. The argument went back and forth in her mind as she made her way to her bedchamber. Dorothea had been at pains to tell her how a wife should behave, but until that fateful night at Hitchin Serena had always scorned her sister-in-law’s advice. Why, then, was she inclined to believe her now?