"I'm afraid not. She's one of a kind, Falkner… and I don't share."
Their companionable conversation continued as they left the library and walked upstairs, where the groom of the chambers had prepared the rooms for the guests. They always had a great deal to discuss, for despite the disparities in their ages, Alec being twenty-eight and Sackville almost thirty years older, they had much in common. Each had inherited a title and fortune in his schoolroom years, and all the problems associated with having too much power at too young an age.
Somewhere in Alec's mind had always lurked the resentment of having been forced to take on the responsibilities of family, land, and tenants when he was still in his teens. The death of his father had forced Alec to become a man overnight, robbing him of the carelessness and the frolicking that his peers were enjoying. He had come to rely on his cousin for
companionship and laughter. Wild, reckless Holt had lured him into many unsavory adventures, never failing to provide a break from the monotony of responsibility and work. Sneaking women up to Alec's rooms and leaving them there as a surprise… sending messages in the middle of the night that begged clownishly for companionship at a disreputable bar… mischievous, lively Holt, who had fallen in and out of love once a week and had coaxed Alec to join him in drinking to the ficklenesss of women. "You need me around," Holt had often told him, "because everyone else takes you too damned seriously." Now that Holt was gone, Alec knew just how true that had been.
After seeing him to the room, Sackville left to welcome his other guests. Alec wandered about aimlessly, reacquainting himself with the manor. The interior of Sackville Manor was as comfortable as the exterior was captivating. There was a fire in every room, a bounty of artwork and books to peruse, plenty of deep, well-upholstered chairs and plush, richly draped beds. At Sackville's annual hunting parties some of these luxurious beds were used far more than others, for this was an occasion of great indulgence in many areas.
The outside of the manor was sturdy and fortresslike, yet so picturesque that the eye jumped from place to place in agreeable fascination. The walls and rooftops were edged with crenellation and the gables were stepped, giving it the appearance of a castle. Of particular note were the tall, square turrets that bordered the corners of the building, for they appeared to be the kind in which fairy-tale princesses were destined to be locked up and held captive.
Alec's room was located at the end of the hallways, near the entrance to one of the square towers. He paused at the small stairway, leaning against the wall and contemplating what might be stored in the turret. Perhaps it was used as an attic or a garret for some of
the servants. Suddenly his musings were interrupted by the sound of small feet on the stairs.
Mira came down from her bedroom to go to the kitchen. The cook and the housekeeper were busy preparing for the guests and Mira knew that her help would be appreciated. Lord Sackville was incensed whenever he heard that she lifted a finger to help, but Mira was no stranger to work. She liked to feel useful, and in her present capacity she felt as if there was no opportunity for her to be useful to anyone. She stopped short on the second-to-last step as she realized that there was a man standing in front of her, a very tall man. She recognized his coal-black hair at once and stared at him with unabashed curiosity.
His eyes were the light gray of rainwater, crystalline and framed with spiky black eyelashes. His brows, strongly drawn and faintly slanted, were velvet black. It was an unnerving effect… those shrewd and brilliant silver eyes sef in that dark face, narrowed slightly as if he could see every secret written in her heart. His mouth was wide and expressive, one corner lifted just enough to reveal that a sardonic wit lay behind those wantonly handsome features. Immediately she wanted to take a few steps backward. That aura of physical strength that she had sensed from far away was overpowering up close. Every line of his body was perfect, from the taut thighs encased in buff pantaloons to the wide shoulders and lean torso covered in blue coat and conservatively striped waistcoat.
"Hello," Alec said, his face wiped clean of all expression as he stared at her. Then his eyes darkened intently, seeming to drink in every detail of her appearance. He noticed the agitated movement of her fingers as she curled them into the folds of her dress. "I hope I haven't startled you," he said, his voice low and oddly hushed.
"Oh, you haven't," Mira replied, her long lashes sweeping down to her cheeks. Then she dared to smile
at him, and Alec was enchanted by the dance of laughter in her eyes. "You're Lord Falkner, aren't you?" He nodded, looking up and down the hallway before replying. It was time for a watchful chaperon to come in search of her charge, for a girl with her looks would not be left alone and unguarded for long. As she correctly interpreted his glance, Mira's smile faded. "I was just on my way to—" she began, and took a step forward without remembering that she was still on the steps. Pitching forward, she stretched out her arms instinctively to brace herself, anticipating the shock of her body hitting the floor. In a quick reflex Alec reached out and caught her, absorbing the momentum of her fall as she stumbled fully against him. His arms closed around her, strong and steady, protective.