Claire Delacroix (11 page)

Merlyn’s expression would have revealed nothing at all to another, but I knew he was irked with me. He seemed suddenly taller and darker, more forbidding, though he had not moved a hair. His gaze was both brighter and darker, a sign that did not bode well for me.

“If you would hear my confession, then you will have to come with me.” He gestured to the gaping maw behind him and offered his hand in invitation.

I took another step back, though I would never have admitted whether I was more repelled by the dark mystery of that space or the enigma of the man who offered the invitation. Certainly I was not anxious to share a confined space with the man who could so easily persuade me to be seduced.

Did I fear Merlyn’s plan for my fate, especially that I now knew he lived? Not truly, not in that moment. I suspected that he had need of me, though I could not imagine why, and that his need for my aid would protect me for a while, no matter how dark his ultimate intent. Truth be told, I had greater fears - of my own weaknesses, or at least of revealing them to a man who might well use them against me.

“I should think not,” I retorted. “Whatsoever you have to say can be uttered here, as can an apology.”

“I should apologize for granting what you so clearly desired?”

“I did not desire you in my bed.”

Merlyn almost smiled. “Again,
chère
, your certainty was somewhat difficult to read in your response.”

I straightened. “Then let me be blunt. I have no intent of leaving this stable with you, not for any reason, nor to enter that black hole in your company.”

Merlyn’s gaze flicked across the stable. “I would confide in you, but it is not safe here.”

“In your own abode?” I rolled my eyes, though his pledge intrigued me. Merlyn sharing confidences? That would be worth a risk or two. “With the family of your own designated heiress? You make much of little, Merlyn.”

His gaze hardened. “Do I?”

“Indeed. Whereas I have much to lose by following you into darkness. Am I the sole one who knows that you live? Did you lure me back to Ravensmuir to begin matters again betwixt we two?”

“The prospect has a certain allure, you must admit.”

“You find allure in whatsoever you find useful,” I charged, but he did not deny the accusation.

As if he meant to persuade me, Merlyn left the opening then, and strode toward me. He lifted a hand to my cheek and ran his thumb across my flesh once more. I held his gaze stubbornly, hoping he could not discern the fullness of the response he awakened so easily in me.

His smile broadened, and I knew my hope had been a futile one.

“So many matters remain between us,
chère
,” he murmured.

There is something beguiling about the man’s very voice, especially when he drops it low. A woman could be coaxed to do much by the splendor of that voice. It is a temptation to many sins and pleasures.

“So many questions lie unanswered,” he continued, “but there is only one I would have from you now. Did you endeavor to see me killed? Did you wish to see me dead?” His gaze searched mine, and no doubt he saw my astonishment.

“Before this morn?” Had I been a hen, my feathers would have ruffled in agitation. “Before this moment?”

Merlyn chuckled, apparently reassured and not in the least bit fearful of me. “Before I came to speak to you abed last evening.”

“You did not come to speak to me.”

“I did.” I must have looked unpersuaded, for he smiled slightly though his gaze was still filled with doubts. “Did you,
chère
?” His gaze locked with mine and I could not deny him such a simple answer.

“No, Merlyn.”

“Did you tell any that you had seen me?”

I arched a brow. “You rode into Kinfairlie in the full light of day. None needed to ask me whether you were there, for you left witnesses aplenty.”

Still he insisted, his gaze boring into mine. “Did you send word to any man of my presence?”

“No, Merlyn. I had labor to do.”

“Swear it to me,
chère
.”

I was surprised by his insistence, struck by the uncertainty in his eyes. “I swear it.”

I saw his relief, felt the warmth fairly pour from him. He had not truly believed that I was responsible, but he had not been certain.

I was inordinately pleased that he accepted my word. “Why did you come to me at all?”

“I have missed you,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips.

“And it took you five years to seek me out?” I tried to scoff, though the words sounded breathlessly. “It is somewhat difficult to perceive any enthusiasm in that.”

Merlyn’s eyes gleamed. “Did you expect me to retrieve you, like a stray hound?”

I looked up, and this was my mistake. I was snared by the thousands of secrets in his gaze, caught by the bemused smile that curved his lips. Time stopped as we stood there, enraptured with each other, trapped by our own desire. I felt a trembling begin in my belly, a trembling that only Merlyn could awaken and that only he could sate. He slid his fingers into my hair, cupping my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.

His eyes are grey in their midst, Merlyn’s are, grey around the pupil and blue around the rims. They darken to the hue of the sky at the first appearance of the stars when he is impassioned, as they darkened in that moment.

I thought he might kiss me, indeed I expected as much, but he stepped abruptly away, releasing me so quickly that I stumbled. He strode to the gaping portal, then glanced back over his shoulder at me, his expression inscrutable.

“There has been too little trust in our match, and too much left unsaid.”

“We have no match,” I said sharply. “We have not had one these five years, for I could not trust a man who makes his trade in falsehoods.”

“Perhaps I have reformed my ways.”

“Perhaps the moon is wrought of cheese.”

“Trust me now.” Merlyn extended his hand to me. “For the first time and the last. You,
chère
, hold the key to my survival.”

I was disappointed, if you must know, that Merlyn merely found me useful, and more disappointed that he had not touched his lips to mine.

“You are not the first to desire something of me, Merlyn Lammergeier, nor will you be the last. I am disinclined to do what is convenient for you.”

Merlyn’s gaze remained intense. “But I will wager that I am the first prepared to compensate you for your aid.”

“Abed?” My tone was arch.

“If only it were so simple.” He smiled wickedly, then sobered. “I have surrendered Ravensmuir to you in anticipation of your aid. Surely it is a price worthy of your favor?”

“And if I do not aid you?”

He grinned then, the reckless rogue who once had made my heart skip. “Then I shall indeed return from hell,” he vowed. “If I am not dead, then I shall have no heiress. This holding shall return to my hand again once my existence is witnessed anew.”

Fear clutched my heart that Tynan should be denied security again. “I will not permit it!”

Merlyn’s smile disappeared and he spoke with resolve. “You shall have no choice. Take the matter to any court in the land, and you will lose. A will is only enacted when a man is dead.”

He was right and I knew it. I looked away and his tone turned dangerously thoughtful.

“I half-believed that you would spurn Ravensmuir, for you are a woman of high principle. I feared that all my planning would come to naught. Indeed,
chère
, your enthusiasm to return to the place you fled so hastily is a great surprise to me.”

Merlyn snared me with Ravensmuir, and, though he knew his bait had worked, it was clear that he did not know precisely why. My thoughts churned as I avoided his gaze.

If I told him why I had accepted his legacy, he would guess the greatest secret that I had. And I was not prepared for Merlyn to have yet another weapon in his arsenal.

Aware of his watchful gaze, I shrugged with apparent insouciance. “I have missed the comforts of wealth. Perhaps Ravensmuir suits me as well as your death did.”

Merlyn’s eyes narrowed.

I smiled pertly at him. “Perhaps you should tell me your tale here.”

He offered his hand again. “It is not safe.” This he said with such force that I believed him. “Trust me,
chère
.”

I met his gaze and saw the plea he could not articulate. He did need me. I knew then that I would go with him, though I refused to examine why.

* * *

Merlyn smiled as I stepped toward him, then caught my hand in his. His grip was strong and I only shivered slightly in trepidation when he pulled me closer. He bade the dog to remain, then reached into the shadows and pulled the wall of the stable back across the makeshift portal. Some latch not apparent to me settled in place with a click.

We stood then in blackness, hand in hand, and I began to doubt the wisdom of my choice. The dog whimpered in the stable beyond, its sniffling echoing loudly in the small space. I could smell stone and salt and water. The crashing of the waves on the shore echoed more loudly than it had in the stables and the air was both damp and chill.

And it was dark.

Darker than hell, blacker than a rogue’s heart. My heart began to race and I felt the perspiration of anxiety slip between my breasts. I closed my eyes, but shivered all the same, and Merlyn pulled me closer to his heat.

I knew but a moment’s solace before he released my hand. He put his hand on the back of my waist to urge me forward. “The way is quite level. In a moment or two, your eyes will accustom themselves to the darkness.”

That would not ease my fear, but I did not tell him as much. My eyes had adjusted much already, but not enough to reassure me. I could see very little other than the faint image of the path directly before myself. The path turned and twisted, the rock worn smooth by a thousand footfalls. Countless openings gaped on either side of pathway, offering even more ominous shadows, and the path Merlyn chose was not evident as a greater one.

I quickly lost whatever sense of direction I might have had. If Merlyn intended to confuse me, he did an artful job of it. I could not be certain in which general direction lay the stables, much less retrace our footsteps. I doubted that I could open the wall myself in darkness. I drew slightly closer to my companion, though I would have preferred not to do so, for I was keenly aware of my dependence upon him.

I have never been fond of closed spaces or of darkness. The sense of being surrounded by rock, of being enclosed, makes terror rise within my chest. I could not imagine entering this place alone - or surviving it alone. Even with Merlyn, even knowing that he knew the way out, I was sorely distressed.

For there was no guarantee that he meant to take me out. I realized too late that with Merlyn, there would be a price.

There always was. He had coaxed me into a place of weakness to ensure that I had no choice but to accept whatever terms he offered. The folly of my own choice turned my uneasy gut.

Why did I so readily forget the kind of man I had wed? Why did I trust him over and over again, even knowing that he was not trustworthy? I knew his crimes. I knew that I could not trust my desire for him.

Yet each time he reached for me, I met him halfway. It has never been my ambition to die foolish, but it seemed on that day that I was closer to doing so than ever I had been.

Merlyn halted suddenly, and I felt him lean closer to me. My breathing was shallow. “You are troubled.”

I spoke boldly in an attempt to disguise my fears. His price would be higher if he knew how desperately I wished to be free of this place. “What woman would not feel trapped, confined with a man whose motives she does not know?”

I felt Merlyn study me, perhaps guessing more than I admitted.

“Believe,
chère
, that in my presence you are safe.”

I would have made some comment but he caught me close. So weak was I, so relieved was I by the touch of another, that I clung to his strength.

Merlyn kissed me with that possessive ease that could make a woman forget her own name. I gasped in my relief, then kissed him back, emboldened by the darkness and my own need.

I tasted his surprise and deepened my kiss, finding it most gratifying when I put my hand upon his chest and felt the thunder of his heartbeat. Our kiss turned savage, hungry, demanding and exhilarating.

Indeed, his touch pushed the terror of the darkness aside. I could have sucked the marrow from his bones, so grateful was I for the solace he offered. The ardor of my response shocked him, I knew it, and I savored the fleeting sense that I had surprised the most unpredictable man I had ever known.

We parted with reluctance, the ragged sound of our breathing all too loud. He muttered my name like a curse, then stepped away. I panicked at the prospect of becoming lost, fearful now that Merlyn did not offer an anchor in his touch.

“Merlyn!”

“Your trust is meager,
chère
,” he muttered.

A moment later, I heard him strike a flint and was relieved when he touched the flame to a candle and light fell upon us.

The candlelight made him look yet more diabolical, only one side of his face lit and the other falling into shadow. His hair fell unruly over his brow and when he smiled at me in the intimacy of that light, I thought my heart would burst.

In gratitude for the light, of course. No more than that.

“Better?”

I nodded, then sat upon a rock to hide the fact that my knees threatened to collapse beneath me. The threat of the shadows seemed to confine the glow from the candle, but the light was better than none at all. I wiped the slickness of my palms against my garb and took a steadying breath. I focused upon the light, not upon the shadows filled with a thousand horrors that surrounded us.

Before I could thank him for his kindness, Merlyn spoke. “Who is the boy?” he asked.

I jumped in surprise, then looked away from him. “This is what you would discuss?”

His brows drew together. “Who?”

“He is my brother, Tynan,” I chattered. “He was born in Kinfairlie village, after we returned there, which is why you do not know him.”