The Husband List -2 (16 page)

Gillian drew a deep breath, gathered her skirt tight around her, and climbed up the wide slats of the slanted ladder leading to the roof. Richard’s sisters had assured her it opened onto a flat surface running the length of the roof. She stepped out cautiously and stood with care. There was indeed a flat area and of a good size, but it was far too small for the comfort of anyone with a sensible aversion to heights.

She took a tenuous step away from the opening. It wasn’t as if she was terrified of heights, she simply preferred to be closer to solid ground, where words like
plummet
and
plunge
did not linger in her mind. Still, greeting Richard here, where she was no doubt risking her life, was far more desirable than with an audience of four curious females. Not one of which could be considered
quiet
.

She glanced around, taking care to avoid looking past the edges of the manor. It would take a bit more courage than she had at the moment to admire what she was certain would be a stunning vista of rolling green meadows and woods and fields. She was not quite ready to appreciate scenic beauty.

The level surface occupied about a third of the area. From here the roof sloped downward to the eaves. Several evenly spaced chimneys dotted the flat portion. Others, taller and wider and more decorative in design, sprouted from the slope.

Hammering rang from the back of the house, obviously coming from the slanted section of the roof. She inched toward the noise. The pounding continued, then abruptly stopped, halted by a long string of creative curses. She grinned.

“Richard?”

The obscenities stopped.

She bit back a laugh and tried again.
“Is that you?”

“Gillian?” Astonishment rang in the word.

She pulled a steadying breath and stepped quickly toward the sound of his voice. She drew close enough to spot him over the edge. “Richard, how lovely to see you again.”

He sat on the side of the roof, one foot braced on a chimney. He stood and shifted to stare up at her. Her insides fluttered at the precarious nature of his position. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Here on the roof or here in the country?”

“Both.”

What was she doing here? She really had no idea what she’d expected to gain by following him. “Why, Richard, London was simply unbearable without you.”

“Was it?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Unbearable and quite, quite boring.” She sat down, perching on the flat surface and gingerly resting her feet on the roof’s downward slope. At once she felt a bit more secure. “I couldn’t tolerate it one moment longer. Why, I had nothing to do but contemplate the threadbare nature of my carpet.”

“I had no idea it was that bad.” He pressed his lips together as if trying not to grin.

“Oh, my yes. Extremely worn. Rather a hazard, in fact.”

“A hazard?”

“Indeed, someone could trip or ...” Heat flushed up her face.

“Or?” He raised a brow.

She shifted uncomfortably on the hard surface, a painful reminder of skin scraped raw by the blasted rug.

“Or?” he said again. Amusement shone in his eyes, and she ignored the warmth in her cheeks and elsewhere.

“Or,” she met his gaze directly, the level of his eyes slightly below hers, “suffer some other kind of painful injury. I should be happy to show you exactly how such a thing could happen.”

He stared for a stunned moment, then burst into laughter.

She grinned back and savored the look of him. Richard’s stance on the roof was as relaxed as a goat on the side of a mountain. A gentle breeze teased strands of his dark, just a bit too long, hair. Faded breeches molded to his form so closely that she wondered they didn’t tear at the slightest movement. A leather pouch filled with nails hung from a strap at his waist. His shirt, too, was well worn and open at his throat, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms strong and already a bit browned by the sun, evidence of a man who did indeed work out of doors. Why hadn’t she noticed before?

He raised a curious brow. “Are you staring at me?”

Whether at a ball or on a rooftop, he was a handsome devil. “Yes, actually, I am.” She nodded at his clothes. “I’ve never seen you attired like this before. It suits you.”

“Does it?” He chuckled wryly. “Well then, perhaps I should abandon this earl nonsense altogether and hire myself out as a jack-of-all-trades.”

“And would you prefer that to being an earl?”

“I must confess I’ve never considered such a thing. However, there is much to be said for honest labor. For working with one’s hands. Particularly when one works out of doors. I quite enjoy it.” He hefted the hammer in his hands thoughtfully, then grinned at her. “On occasion. I rather doubt I would relish it as much if I had no other choice.”

She pulled her feet closer and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Then you like your position in life?”

“Again an intriguing question, and again one I have given little thought to. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity.” She shrugged. “It strikes me that I don’t know nearly as much about you as I thought I did. We have never really discussed matters like this.”

“No, I suppose we haven’t. Very well then.” He paused for a moment to consider the question. “I do not, in general, dislike my position in life. I am rather proud of my title, and, for the most part, proud of my lineage. I am the fourteenth Earl of Shelbrooke, you know.”

“And today the fourteenth Earl of Shelbrooke is patching holes in a roof,” she said mildly.

He chuckled. “It does seem somewhat absurd. I’m certain my ancestors are turning over in their graves at the very thought. No doubt they were far better at wielding a sword than a hammer. What a pity I have no invaders to fight off, only rot and neglect to do battle with.” His expression sobered. “It is not my lot in life that I dislike, merely the circumstances surrounding it.”

“You must resent it a great deal.”

“Resent it? How could I not? Still...” His brow furrowed in thought. “I have come to realize that the loss of my family’s fortune and good name has perhaps been the best thing to happen in my life.”

“Really?” She rested her chin on her knees and studied him. “What do you mean? It sounds quite awful to me.”

“It has not been altogether pleasant.” He shifted the hammer from hand to hand absently. “Do you recall years ago when we first met?”

“Vaguely.”

“Then perhaps you don’t remember the type of man I was then?”

“Not directly. But I remember your reputation. You were quite a scoundrel, according to gossip.”

“Oh, I was a magnificent scoundrel. A rake and a rogue of the first order. There was no game I did not play, no wager I would not make. I left no bottle undrunk, no woman untouched.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I had a great deal of fun.”

“I can imagine,” she murmured.

“There are moments when I quite miss those days.” He flashed her a grin. “However, they are gone and I am here, on the roof of the home of my ancestors trying to keep the rain from the heads of my sisters because, Gillian, there is no one else to do it.” He gazed out over the countryside. “This small patch of England has been in my family for generations. I never truly appreciated it until I was faced with the very real possibility of losing it all. I am the only one left who can ensure it remains for those generations yet to come.”

He fell silent, and she studied his handsome profile, the determined set of his chin, the resolute gleam in his eye. She had chosen well.

“Look at it from up here, Gillian, how could I possibly let it go?”

“It’s very ... nice.” Even to her own ears she did not sound entirely convinced.

His gaze shot to hers and his eyes widened with realization. “You haven’t looked around at all have you?”

“Well, I did see much of it on the drive here,” she said weakly.

“But from this vantage point one can see forever.”

“No doubt.” She grimaced as she spoke. “However, I’ve avoided looking at anything other than my feet and where to place them since I stepped onto this roof in an effort to avoid any horrible accidents. Plunging to my death and the like.”

“You are not fond of high places?”

“Apparently not.”

He laughed and held out the hammer. “Here, take this.” She steeled her nerves and bent forward cautiously to grab it, trying not to look down. He scrambled up the slope of the roof to stand beside her and reached out his hand.

She hesitated.

He smiled down at her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her gaze caught his. Her heart leapt, and she knew she had nothing to fear. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. For an instant she could do nothing but stare up into his dark eyes. Did a thousand unsaid words pass between them at that moment? Or did she only wish they had?

“You never truly kissed me, you know.”

“No?” Amusement lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought I kissed you quite thoroughly.”

“Well, you did. But not... what I mean is ...” Annoying man, he knew full well what she meant.

“Are you quite certain? I couldn’t possibly have forgotten something like that. Perhaps you simply overlooked it?”

“I doubt that.” She raised her chin, her mouth a scant few inches from his.

“So you are trying to make me believe I never lowered my lips to yours,” he said as he moved his mouth closer. “And did anything like this?” His lips lightly brushed hers.

“Blast it all, Richard, you did that.” Obviously she would have to take matters into her own hands. She tossed the hammer aside, ignoring the thud when it hit the roof.

“Careful, I have no need of yet another hole to—”

“This is what you didn’t do.” She threw her arms around him and planted her lips firmly on his.

He hesitated for no more than the space of a heartbeat, then pulled her tighter against him, crushing her breasts to his chest. His lips greeted hers with a hunger that matched her own. Fire shot through her, and she clutched the warm back of his neck. Her mouth opened, and his tongue met hers in an exploration of greed and desire. A plundering born of his need and her own. Her heart raced and her knees weakened and still she couldn’t get enough. He invaded her senses, swept away her substance until she was falling into an abyss from which there was no escape.
And no escape needed.

He pulled away and stared down at her, a bemused expression on his face, as though he too had lost his wits for the span of a few brief moments or the length of a lifetime. His voice carried an odd, unsettled note that belied the teasing nature of his words. “Was that what you had in mind?”

She struggled to catch her breath and nodded. “Yes, well, something like that.”

He laughed and kissed her again quickly, then turned her around to face the countryside before she could protest. His arms held her protectively, safely, against the strong length of his body, and she relaxed into the security of his embrace. “Now then, Gillian, look at it all.”

Rolling hills and meadows stretched into the distance. Copses of trees dotted the landscape. A stream danced in the sunlight.

“I can see why you love it,” she said softly, moved as much by this man’s affection for the land of his forebears as by the beauty of the setting.

Endless moments stretched silently between them. A sense of serenity and contentment flowed through her. She could easily stay like this for the rest of her days, here on the top of his world, content in the warmth of his arms.

“When I stand here, overlooking this place,” he said at last, “I see the past and the present and the future, all bound together by the land and the people who have come and gone and will come and go.
And I feel a great responsibility to them all.”

“Do you?” she murmured.

“I do. I suspect this tie to this spot of England runs in my blood. My sisters love it as well, yet they don’t see it as I do.” His voice was pensive.

“Emma sees the beauty: colors and patterns and textures, lines and spaces, contrasting and complementing. In Becky’s eyes, it’s a countryside rife with possibilities for adventure, although the hoyden has scoured every inch of it and knows it far better than even I.

“Marianne is convinced it’s not merely our home but the home of fairy folk and all manner of magical creatures, unseen but there nonetheless. And Jocelyn,” he chuckled wryly, “in many ways Jocelyn sees it precisely as it is: sadly in need of a great deal of work. She’s too young to remember when it wasn’t, but I suspect she imagines what it was like and will be again.”

“And all you need is money,” Gillian said softly.

She felt his body tense against hers. “Is it?”

“Well, you do get a wife in the bargain.” She paused, ignoring the unease washing through her. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“I would be something of a fool to do that, wouldn’t I?” His arms tightened around her, and he leaned forward to rest his cheek close to hers. “What do you want from me, Gillian?”