Beneath the Major's Scars(33)
‘The devil you can.’
She laughed.
‘It is true. I bring a few books up here, enter the details, then return them to their place on the shelves. It takes a little longer, but it means I am not in the way.’
‘Hmmph.’
He looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest upon the bed.
‘Good God, where did that monstrosity come from?’
‘Mrs Hensley said it was in storage. Presumably left here by the last owners.’
‘More likely abandoned by the builders! It is a relic of the last century at least. It should have been thrown out.’
‘Fie, Major, if that had happened then I should have had nothing to sleep on.’
‘You are sleeping here?’
‘Why, yes, sir. For the night of the ball. Did your sister not tell you?’
‘No, she did not,’ he replied grimly. ‘It is out of the question. It is too remote. There is no accommodation for a maid—’
‘I do not have a maid, sir.’
‘That is not the point. What was Sal thinking of to put you here?’
‘Mrs Hensley needed one last room and if anyone had to have this room I would much rather it was me.’ She waved her hand in the direction of the desk. ‘For anyone else all this would have to be removed. Believe me, sir, I shall be quite comfortable.’
‘As you wish.’ He shrugged, as if tired of the conversation.
‘Did you want to talk to me, sir?’
‘Mmm? No, I just wanted to know where you were. I am going out. There is a dead beech tree in the woods that needs felling and my sister has seen fit to set all my best men to prettifying the grounds ready for this damned ball.’
She said, hoping to mollify him, ‘My sister says it will be the most magnificent event in the county this year.’
‘Is that supposed to please me?’
‘Yes, it is. Why else are you holding the ball?’
She waited for his answer, her head tilted on one side. His eyes narrowed.
‘Another momentary aberration, Miss Pentewan. They are becoming quite common since I met you!’
He swept out again and Zelah returned to her work.
Mrs Graddon brought her a glass of wine and a little bread and ham at noon and while she enjoyed her solitary meal, Zelah considered the final crate of books. She would empty it now and have Graddon take the box away. That would be a little less clutter in the room.
She lifted out the books, three large volumes each in panelled calf. Carefully she opened the first one and read the inscription. It was the first volume of Vitruvius Britannicus. She had never seen Lydcombe Park, but she had heard that it was a delightful Palladian mansion. Its owner was quite likely to have taken the design from one of these volumes. Sir Oswald would be quite sorry not to have them, if that was the case. She picked up her duster and carefully ran it over the book before putting it to one side and wiping down the next volume. The cloth snagged on something between the pages. Fearful that she had damaged a loose page she carefully opened the book.
‘Have you seen Major Coale? Is he back?’
Zelah asked the question of a startled footman as she hurried across the great hall. The man stuttered out that he thought he had seen the master crossing the lawn from the woods towards the stables some ten minutes ago. The stables were situated in a block beyond the north-west corner of the house, as far from the library as it was possible to be. With scarcely a pause Zelah set off through the twisting passages to the back of the house, hoping that her quarry did not enter by some other door unknown to her, or walk around to the front entrance and miss her altogether.
Outside the sun was blazing down, and the heat was intense after the shady corridors of the house, disastrous for a lady’s complexion, but Zelah did not waste time going back for her bonnet. She set off towards the stables, nearly running in her haste to find Dominic. As she rushed through the arch into the yard she heard voices mixed with the creak of the pump handle and the splash and gurgle of water. The sight that met her eyes made her stop in her tracks, open-mouthed.
Dominic was bowed down with his head under the pump while one of the stable lads worked the handle, drenching his head and shoulders with clear, cold water. He straightened and shook himself like a dog, sending diamond droplets of water flying in every direction. Zelah was unable to look away. He was naked to the waist and she could plainly see the white line of the sabre slash running from his left shoulder and across the dark shadow of hair on his chest. But it was not the jagged scar that held her spellbound, after all she had seen that before. It was the sight of his powerful torso, tanned from working out of doors, the muscles flexing as he grabbed a cloth and began to dry himself. She stared, taking in the broad shoulders, the flat stomach with its tapering line of hair that disappeared into his breeches. A powerful ache tore at her insides. Even the man who had taken her virginity had not roused such a powerful physical longing.
Dominic stilled when he saw her, slowly lowering the cloth. He resisted the temptation to hold the towel against his chest, covering the scar. She continued to stare at him in silence. What the devil was she doing in the yard? He threw the drying cloth at the grinning stable hand and barked out a command which sent the lad scurrying away. The movement woke Zelah from her trance and she blinked, a hot flush flooding her cheeks.
‘I—um—I came to find you.’
He spread his hands. ‘Well, here I am.’ Her confusion angered him and he said roughly, ‘I am sorry if the sight of me disturbs you.’
He picked up his shirt and threw it over his head. His shoulders were still damp and the soft linen stuck to his skin, but at least he was covered.
‘No, no...’ She trailed off, then her flush deepened as the meaning of his words hit her. ‘Oh heavens, please do not think I was upset by the scar! I hardly noticed. That is, I was looking...’ Her eyes were still fixed on his chest, but the look in them was not horror, or revulsion. It was something he had not seen in a woman’s eyes for a long time. Desire. His heart swelled and he stood a little taller. Drawing a deep breath, she started again. ‘I have found something—a paper—in the tower room. I think you should see it.’
He picked up his discarded waistcoat and jacket and came towards her.
‘Propriety would suggest I should dress first, but there seems to be some urgency in your coming to find me.’
‘I do want you to see this as soon as possible.’
His lips quirked. ‘Are you sure you can cope with my, er, informal attire?’
She saw the glinting smile in his eyes and her chin went up. ‘I am sure it is no concern to me!’
He laughed. ‘Perhaps not, but I will change, all the same. Give me five minutes and I will follow you.’
She stood for a moment, uncertain how to respond to his teasing. Then she picked up her skirts and swept ahead of him back to the house.
Zelah went back to the tower room, wishing she could lock the door against the major. She had been shocked by her reaction to seeing his naked body. She had allowed herself to be carried away once before, but then she had thought herself in love, and if she was honest she had been more anxious to please her lover than herself. Their love-making had consisted of one fumbling, disappointing night and the consequences for Zelah had been disastrous. She had had no difficulty after that in eschewing all men and could honestly say that she was content to lead a celibate life—until now.
She pressed her hands to her stomach. Her body felt strangely light and out of balance. She looked around in a panic, her eyes alighting on the huge bed. She could not see him here, in this room!
Zelah ran to the desk and was about to pick up the manuscript and carry it to the library when she heard him coming up the stairs. It was too late to remove, she must concentrate on her news. He was hardly through the door before she began to speak.