The Royal Conquest(20)

“Are you well?”

“Yes.”

He gently pressed his thumb along her side. She shivered, the softest of moans slipping from her.

“Do you suffer any ill effect from the fall?” he asked gruffly, pulling away.

She sighed. “There is only a slight bruise. The pain has already faded.”

“Good. You should still rub the area with a liniment.” He took her arm and placed it on the railing of the stairs. Then he nudged her.

They descended the steps carefully.

“Did you receive my note expressing my regret for missing our picnic?” she asked.

“I did.” He’d still not figured out if the rain had been a timely or untimely intervention. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to offer an invitation for another day, but he remained silent.

They reached the bottom of the stairs.

“A moment, Payton.”

She halted, and he felt along the wall for a switch. He located it, twisted the knob, and soft light illuminated the corridor.

“I would prefer for the light to be off. I know I am being frightfully improper, but I would like to continue my research. I think I will also insert in the story the children dropping their torches,” she said excitedly. “I want to see what their walk with darkness would be like. It is very convenient for me that you are here now. I would hate to encounter the real Barnabas alone.”

With a low chuckle he complied, and they kept walking, hugging close to the wall. “So tell me about Barnabas.”

She stopped so suddenly his chest pressed into her back, and the curve of her rump pressed delightfully against his thigh. He bit back a groan and gently eased away.

“You want to know about my writing?” Her voice was rife with surprise.

“I do.” He frowned, a peculiar ache working its way into his chest. Was his request so unusual?

“Oh!”

Pleasure coated her voice, and he wished to see her face. Was she smiling?

“I am not certain if he is a mean or a kind ghost as yet. But it is wartime, and four sibling children are sent away to live with their grandparents and discover the castle they are living in is haunted.”

He smiled, wondering if she realized her voice had lowered to a dramatic hush.

“Tell me from the beginning,” he commanded as they continued strolling in the dark.

A little squeak of excitement slipped from her, and then she launched into the story she was writing and apparently illustrating—a ghost, a mystical portal, an enchanted realm with dragons, witches, trolls, a red queen, a blue queen, and intrepid children, all woven together seamlessly into a wonderful story. Her voice was refined and sensual, soothing and arousing, and she entranced him with the passion vibrating from her as she regaled him until the tale ended.

He was silent for a few seconds. “Your story is riveting.”

“Thank you for listening,” she said softly.

Much too soon, they reached the foyer leading to the other wing of the manor. The light from the wall sconces lighting the east wing bared her to his gaze. She was dressed in a voluminous nightgown that hid her wonderful figure, and her hair was pinned in a topknot. Loose tendrils danced around her flushed cheeks, her eyes glittered with apparent delight, and Mikhail desperately wanted to taste her lips.

He cleared his throat. “This is where we part.”

She lowered her lashes, but not before he saw the sparks of desire in her eyes. She pinned a polite smile on her face, and then lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you for being so kind as to escort me and listen to me ramble.”

“I was delighted.”

Her flush became even more pronounced. She reached out and briefly touched his knuckle. Her caress was light as butterfly wings and almost pleasant. Then she turned and ran lightly up the winding staircase.

Mikhail watched until she vanished from sight. She was a powerful temptation he would have to do all in his power to resist. Then the visceral need of how he’d wanted her lips against his, the way she’d made his cock twitch, the way she made him smile so effortlessly, scythed through his heart.

And her touch…it had not made his gut roil with the urge to vomit. A part of him that had been dead and buried whispered through his soul. Maybe this time, he could take a step off the cliff of insanity and triumph.





Chapter Seven

The next morning Payton entered the stables with eager steps. It was very early, but she’d wanted to escape the after breakfast call to play croquet. Her damnable need to see Mikhail had made her restless. Last night had been thrilling. Nothing had happened except a long walk along a darkened corridor, but she’d had more enjoyment than at the dinner and the dance earlier. She liked him, and she could not deny the need to be in his presence despite the caution that flared in her heart. The last thing she wanted was to endure hurt and disappointment again.