With This Ring (29 page)

Elektra Worthington was just as much of a fraud as he was.

Aaron let out a short laugh.
“You have no idea what to say, either!”

She pressed one hand over her mouth, but a panicked giggle made it through.
She let her hand drop and shrugged.
“After that dramatic rescue, everything I think of sounds like a bad melodrama.”

Aaron was silent for a moment.
“Rescue,” he repeated thoughtfully.
And here I thought I was kidnapping you.

Hope stirred within him.
If she felt her engagement to Camberton was something to be rescued from, did that mean that she might feel what he felt?

Although it was quite dark, with only the slight smile of the moon to guide them, he turned his face away lest she see the longing in his expression.
Then his gaze sharpened on something just ahead.

Squinting, he saw a strangely shaped shadow on a hilltop.
The scrap of moon gave just enough light for him to realize what it was.

It was no Green Donkey Inn, but it would do.
He turned suddenly off the road, giving Lard-Arse a kick to run him up the hill.
Elektra squeaked and clung to his waist.

He pulled the leggy gelding to a stop before the white marble façade of a stylish Grecian-temple folly, no doubt part of some wealthy man’s nearby estate.
The little building was no more than a room with arching windows looking out over the fields beyond, built from gleaming stone and placed artistically among the plantings to give viewers the impression that they’d discovered a secret, magical place.

On the saddle before him, Elektra sat quietly for a moment.
Then she turned her head until he could see the ivory oval of her face in the moonlight.

“My lord, how long have you planned this particular portion of our adventure?”

He regarded the silly splendor of the folly with a smile.
“For approximately thirty seconds.”

She shook her head.
“I don’t believe you.”

He grinned down at her.
“If there are cushions and blankets within, I won’t believe me, either.”

There were neither, but there was a fireplace.
Upon the mantel, Aaron found an old-style tinderbox.
Elektra took it from him and struck a spark with a practiced motion.

Then Aaron returned to Lard-Arse.
After removing the gelding’s tack and setting it inside the folly entrance, he used a certain river-stained length of rope to tie the horse out to graze.
A picturesque little rivulet had been redirected to chuckle its way past the folly.
Lard-Arse whickered grumpy contentment and bent to the burdensome chore of removing every blade of grass within the perimeter of his stake.

As he went back inside, Aaron bent to retrieve the bundle that had been tied behind the saddle.
Elektra knelt before the small fire she’d begun in the hearth.
She looked up as he entered the round, domed “temple” portion of the folly.

Aaron didn’t take another step for a moment.
“Do you know, when I first saw you in the manor, you brought to mind a goddess.”
His voice came out husky and tight, not light and teasing as he’d intended.
“Now to see you sitting in a temple, keeping the eternal flame…”

She blinked at his rusty compliment.
“It isn’t eternal.
In fact, I don’t think we have enough wood to last the night.”

“A practical goddess.
Here, then.
A practical offering.”

He let the bundle drop at her side.
She glanced at him curiously, then bent to untie the cord binding it.

After unrolling two thick woolen blankets, she discovered a corked glass bottle full of country red, a loaf of hearty brown bread, and, wrapped in waxy paper, a wedge of creamy golden cheese.
“A feast!”
Then a troubled frown crossed her brow.
“But you have no coin.
Did you steal this?”

He nearly laughed, but the distrust in her gaze went much farther than believing that he’d nicked a loaf of bread.
“Did you not see the abbey we passed this afternoon?
Apparently the church has no issue with the brethren pressing grapes, nor with playing at dice with passing travelers.
I had a bit of time to pass.
Your team is so slow I wondered if perhaps they spent every third hour pacing backward.”
He bowed with one hand over his heart.
“I vow I did not even cheat.”

She hefted the bottle with a critical eye.
“Oh, I don’t mind cheating.
Anyone foolish enough to gamble ought to expect it.”

Aaron sighed.
“Worthington ethics are an education in themselves.”

Further education was afforded him when she slid the hem of her gown up to reveal a small embroidered knife sheath strapped to her shapely calf.
She removed the shimmering little blade and began sawing competently at the cheese.

Aaron was so stunned by the glimpse of secret skin and rounded flesh that for a moment, the presence of the knife floated just outside his ken.
Then he blinked away the haze of lust that had seized him.
“You carry a
knife
?”

“You do, too, I imagine.”

He did, in fact, keep a small, wickedly sharp blade inside his right boot.

“Of course.”
He shook off his stunned stupor.
“However, I have traveled the world, including places where there is no law, nor even the slightest mote of civilization.”

She smirked.
“And I live in London.
I believe I win.”

He opened his mouth to argue further, but then he thought of the other London—the one where the chandeliers did not glow over ballrooms, where dining tables did not groan with plenty, where a lady might have need of a razor-sharp blade.

He pointed at her with one finger.
“You are not to leave the house.
Ever.”

She laughed at him then, a sweetly chiming giggle that only ended when she ripped off a bite of bread with even, white teeth.

Then Aaron had another thought.
“I just kidnapped you and ruined your betrothal to a duke.
Why aren’t you trying to kill me with that?”

Her smile faded as she chewed and swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
She held up her hand, turning the knife to catch the firelight.
“Lysander gave me this before he went to war.
I was Attie’s age.
He said it was just in case, since he wouldn’t be able to protect me for a while.
I’ve always been closest to him of all my brothers, though the twins are nearer my age—but Zander was special.
He was different, not pure mischief like Cas and Poll, not brilliance like Orion, nor the steadfastness of Dade.”

A look of dreamy recollection took over her expression.
“Lysander was laughter and effortless kindness, just because he liked to make people smile.
He was always Iris’s favorite.
We all knew it and we didn’t mind.
He was our favorite as well.”

Frankly, Aaron couldn’t imagine it.
From what he’d seen, Lysander was more likely to empty a room with his lifeless stare than to fill it with joy.

Elektra’s expression hardened.
“Then he left us.
I think he went to war because the house was so maddening.
So many of us, and all our treasures, crammed in tightly together.”
She let out a slow breath.
“So that is laid at my feet as well.”

“You?”
Aaron moved forward to kneel beside her.
“That’s nonsense.
You were a child when he joined the military.
How could you be responsible?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Have you ever made a mistake so large, so far reaching, that the ripples just go on forever?”

His belly went cold.
“I know something of regret, yes.”

“I feel gray inside, as if all the color has been squeezed from my being.
I feel like a shadow.”
Her green-blue gaze fixed on his.
For once, her lovely face was without artifice or even normal reserve.
Her raw state made him ache.
He had longed to pierce her haughtiness.
Now he felt as though he’d stripped the wings off an angel.

Here
, he thought wildly.
Put them back on. I’m sorry!
“What is it that you did, to feel so responsible?”

“It was my fault, you see.
Everything.
All of it was due to me!”
She swallowed and turned her face aside.
“I burned down the manor.”
Her voice was a horrified whisper, as if she hardly dared say it aloud.

“You—”
Wait a moment.
“Weren’t you an infant?”

“I was five years of age,” she said flatly.
“Old enough to ruin everything.”

He began to laugh.
He couldn’t help it.
“Precisely how powerful do you imagine yourself to be, Miss Worthington?”

He fell back on the blanket, laughing until he felt her silence like a weapon about to fall upon him.
He rolled his head and grinned at her, still chuckling.
“The all-powerful goddess Elektra, raining down vengeance at the tender age of five years?
Don’t you think that is a touch on the arrogant side?
When I was five I think I might have caused the sea to rise when I tinkled on the beach—but boys will be boys.”

He sat up and leaned forward to take her furious, confused face gently between his hands.
“You cannot blame yourself if you weren’t properly supervised.
Would you blame Attie for the book avalanche?
Would you blame Bliss for the dunking in the river?”
He shook her head gently.
“Sometimes.
Bad.
Things.
Happen.”

She gazed at him, her eyes shadowed.
“Like what happened to that Amelia girl?”

Aaron drew back, releasing her.
“I cannot talk about that,” he said tightly.

She pursued the question, leaning forward, her gaze sharp on his face.
“I will ask you three questions.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter if you tell the truth or not, for I have a bit of experience with lies.
Five brothers, after all.”

Aaron stood.
“This is nonsense.”

“What is your second name?”

He gazed at the domed ceiling of the folly.
“Michael.”
Then he looked back down at her in triumph.
“I would have told you that anyway, so you wasted a question.”

She only smiled tightly.
“Mine to waste.
Second question: Was Amelia Masterson in love with you?”

Aaron stiffened.
He looked away.
“Yes.
Desperately.”

For some inexplicable reason, her smile broadened.
“Third question: Do you have a brother?”

He flinched slightly, but met her hard stare evenly.
“No.”

She smiled at him, a lovely bright smile that took his breath away.
“Bliss was right all along.”
She shook her head.
“I suppose Dade never bothered to ask you about the past.
He’s quite good at spotting outright lies—but he sometimes forgets how tricky assumptions can be.”

Aaron frowned at her.
“What are you talking about?”

She patted the blanket next to her.
“Sit down, my lord.
Let me tell you about yourself.”

Mesmerized by that inviting smile, Aaron found himself sitting.
When she pressed bread and cheese into his hands, he found himself eating.

“You are Lord Aaron Arbogast, heir to the Earl of Arbodean.
When you were younger, you had a friend.
You were as close as brothers, which is why you appeared to be lying, even when I knew you told the truth about not having one.
You thought of him as a brother.”
She handed him the bottle and he numbly drank, washing down the bread and cheese as she went on.

“Amelia Masterson was in love with someone, according to all reports, but it certainly wasn’t you.
You’re a terrible liar, especially when you are being Lord Aaron.
I suspect that the real Mr.
Hastings, whoever he is, is a rather good liar.
When you played Hastings, you were much more difficult to read.”

“My manservant,” he said absently, even as his mind raced.
How could she know so much?

“Now, I know a little something of the bond between brothers.
I know that if one brother gets himself into a pickle, the other brother will do anything he can to get him out of it.
So this friend of yours—”

“Wells,” he told her, automatically filling in her pause, then locked his jaw shut.
How had she done that?

“Wells caused poor Amelia to fall in love with him.
Perhaps he loved her as well?”

Aaron held absolutely still.

Elektra smiled slightly.
“Infatuation, at the very least.
However, Wells had a problem.
After compromising Amelia, he found himself unable to marry her.
Was he already married?”

Aaron didn’t dare to breathe.

“Hmm.
Engaged.
To someone he didn’t dare disappoint.
Some highborn girl, with a titled papa who might not find it amusing that Wells changed his mind?”

His vision was going a bit gray.
He didn’t dare inhale.
She was a witch!

He heard her pause for a bite of bread and cheese.
Finally, he allowed himself a change of air in his lungs.
She leapt into the breach.

“You stood up, didn’t you?
Offered to take one of the ladies off his hands?
You’re an heir!
What papa wouldn’t prefer you?”

Wells’s voice, begging.
“
You’re the heir! He will go much easier on you!
”

“But something went wrong, didn’t it?
Amelia’s papa would have been fine with your alternative proposal—but she wasn’t, was she?
She was in love.
Desperately
in love, just as you said!”

“Please … stop.”

“There’s something that doesn’t fit,” she mused.
“If he loved Amelia, and Amelia loved him … why didn’t you simply offer for the other girl instead?”

God, he’d kept the secret for so long.

Chapter Twenty-four

Aaron fought years of silence and the dark, desperate burden of a truth he’d never dared speak aloud.

Tell her! She already untangled the worst of it!

“Serena,” he muttered.
The truth was gravel in his throat.
“Serena is my … my cousin.”

Elektra gasped.
Part of him was gratified to spoil her little moment of superiority.
“Oh, heavens!
Then the angry papa—”

“The earl is her grandfather as well.”
This time the truth came out a little more easily.
He felt … lighter, somehow.

“So there was no possibility of him disappointing Serena in favor of Amelia!
Oh, that
idiot
!”

Aaron cleared his throat.
“He was twenty-two.
All men are idiots at twenty-two.”