Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

D rawing a breath, Xenia approached Ethan's study. She felt unaccountably nervous. She'd last seen him when she'd left his bed and returned to her own room. The image of him on his stomach, a bedsheet draped over the taut curve of his buttocks and his sculpted back rising and falling as he slept, sent a lovely shiver through her.

Last night, he had shown her the difference between swiving and lovemaking. What they'd done together had felt intimate, even the wicked parts. The fact that Ethan didn't take her virginity, even though she would have given it if they took precautions, demonstrated his respect for her.

In short, Ethan Harrington had been a fantasy come true.

Even the most wondrous dreams suffered in daylight, however, and she felt a frisson of anxiety. What would things be like between her and her aristocratic lover this morning? Obviously, they had to keep up appearances around the other servants. The notion of addressing one another as "my lord" and "Mrs. Wood" felt strange now that they'd made love, but perhaps they'd save endearments for their next rendezvous.

Will there be a next rendezvous?

They'd made no promises. Although she had been the one who'd insisted on a casual affair, the undefined nature of their relationship gnawed at her. She told herself that, with her past, she could not ask for more, and she ought to be satisfied with finding happiness where she could.

That's the problem with happiness. A taste of it is never enough. One always wants more.

She missed Ethan already. Since she knew his routine, she knew he'd been up for a few hours, and when he made no effort to find her, she came up with an excuse to see him.

She knocked, and when Ethan bid her to enter, she saw that he was meeting with Brunswick.

"Yes, Mrs. Wood?" Ethan asked. "Was there something you wanted?"

He looked and sounded the way he had when they first met. Remote and haughty, like he couldn't spare her the time of day. The effect was chilling, and her self-confidence wavered.

"I, um, finished organizing the library," she said haltingly. "I thought you might want to take a look. When you have time."

"I have time now."

They left the study, Ethan stalking behind her. They didn't have far to go, but the tension between them made it feel like miles. Panic played with her thoughts, twisting and tying them into knots.

Does he regret last night? Is that why he is acting distant? Have I done something wrong… Odds bodkins, what if he hates what I've done with the library?

As they reached their destination, Xenia whipped around and barred the door.

"I have changed my mind," she said. "The library isn't ready to be seen."

"I am sure it's fine."

While his words were terse, his eyes had a familiar, brooding look.

"Are you…" She searched for the right words. "Is everything all right?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

He was definitely grumpy.

Because he wishes he hadn't made love to me?

Pain seized her, but if he had changed his mind about her, she had to know.

She looked both ways down the corridor before whispering, "Is this because of last night? Do you…do you regret what we did?"

He drew his brows together. "No."

"Then why are you cranky?"

"I'm not."

"You are. You're grumpy and brooding." Suddenly, she was annoyed, too. "If you've changed your mind about us?—"

"I haven't. Open the bloody door, and we'll talk inside."

"No, I want to know now?—"

Quick as lightning, he reached for the doorknob. The door swung open, and she stumbled backward with it. He caught her, herding her inside and spinning her around. She was once again up against a closed door, only this time he was leaning over her, a hand next to her head.

"You left," he said.

Her head whirled from the sudden movements and his oddly accusatory manner. "Are you referring to this morning?"

He jerked his chin, his gaze ominous.

"Then I did," she said slowly. "I couldn't risk Mr. Valentine seeing us together."

"That is the only reason?"

She furrowed her brow. "What other reason would there be?"

"Maybe you're the one with regrets this morning."

When she stared at him, he stared stonily back.

He's…serious?

"Of course I don't regret last night." She was shocked that he could harbor any doubts in that regard. "Being with you was the most beautiful experience of my life."

"Then why did you leave without waking me?"

"Because you looked peaceful sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb your rest."

"And nothing else prompted your stealthy departure?" he pressed.

Pondering the matter, she realized there was another reason.

"I suppose…I suppose everything seemed so perfect last night, and I didn't want that to change." She expelled a breath. "I wasn't sure how things would be between us in the light of day. When we were back to being Lord Ethan and Mrs. Wood. If we might be awkward with one another, or if things would be different. Maybe…maybe I was scared to find out."

"You should have woken me." His tone softened. "We could have talked about it."

"You could have summoned me this morning," she countered. "We could have had a discussion then."

"You're right," he said after a pause. "We're a pair of fools."

"Do you…" Her throat cinched. "Do you think what we did was foolish?"

"Probably." He leaned closer, and her heart thumped when she saw passion flaring in his eyes. "But I don't give a damn because it was the most sensual experience of my life."

"Truly?" she breathed.

"How could you doubt it?" He outlined her mouth with his thumb. "We set the bedsheets on fire, you and I."

"It was like that for me too. But I didn't know if you felt the same way."

"The morning-after jitters. It happens to everyone."

"You included?"

"Me included." He cupped her cheek, his gaze intense. "May I ask a favor?"

"Anything," she said promptly.

"In the future, don't leave my bed without waking me."

He's referencing the future…which means he wants to be with me again.

Feeling giddy, she said, "I won't."

"Thank you."

His slow smile felt like a gift. Then he kissed her, courting her mouth as if he could do it all day. Her toes curled, her eyes closed, and she clutched at his shoulders, drowning in sensation.

"By Jove, you tempt a man," he murmured. "But we should save this for bedtime. For now, let's have a look at the library."

Her lashes flew open.

He was already striding into the heart of the room, examining her handiwork. She'd left the curtains open, and the sunlight from the sparkling bay windows illuminated the high ceilings and bookshelf-lined walls. Because of the woodworm damage, she'd asked the carpenters to patch the holes and paint the shelves dark green. She'd thought the color went well with the carpets, which, after repeated cleanings, were revealed to be deep sage and patterned with flowers and leaves. The floral motif was echoed in the plasterwork on the ceiling, now restored to a pristine white.

The only thing she hadn't been able to fix was one of the fireplaces. Despite multiple cleanings of the brick firebox, it had spewed smoke and ashes. Since there was another hearth to warm the room, she'd decided to cover it up. At her behest, William and Fred had transported a cabinet from the morning room; the mahogany showpiece had beautiful relief carvings and scrollwork. The lower half of the cabinet was deeper, with drawers which she'd used to store knickknacks. The upper part was narrower and had two glass display cases where she'd placed interesting objects, including a chunk of crystallized mineral, seashells, and figurines.

Lord Ethan wandered down the length of the library, his hands clasped behind his back. She didn't know what he was thinking as he walked along the shelves, gazing at the neat line of volumes. She followed him, her stomach aflutter.

"You sorted the books by color," he remarked.

She cursed herself for following her silly impulse. During her stint as a clerk at Wallace's Bookshop, she'd rearranged the books by shade and size because she thought it looked better and helped her to locate volumes. No one had complained, but since the business had catered to those looking for erotic materials, the patrons had tended to keep their heads down.

"The books are still categorized by subject," she said in a rush. "I can re-organize them alphabetically if you wish?—"

"I like what you've done."

"You do?"

"You've transformed the library. Given it a unique and warm appeal."

She basked in his approval the way a cat basks in the sun.

"Thank you, Xenia." He took her hand, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "For everything you've done to make this manor a home."

"You're welcome," she said softly.

"This should probably wait," he said, "but I find myself impatient to discuss our arrangement."

"I was wondering about that too," she admitted. "How will we keep our relationship a secret? The other servants cannot know?—"

"I concur. Your reputation must be protected at all costs."

"I was more concerned for yours." She hitched her shoulders. "No one cares about what I do. I'm nobody?—"

"Don't say that. You are someone—someone special, Xenia."

His ferocity clogged her throat.

"No one has ever said that to me before," she said in wonder.

"You had best get used to hearing it."

For once, his preemptory tone didn't bother her in the least.

"You're mine now, Xenia. Upon my honor, I will take care of you. Do you believe me?"

"I do." Her heart swelled, but she'd promised not to lie to him. "But we both know this affair cannot last?—"

"Why?"

She wetted her lips. "Why…what?"

"Why do you insist on a condition that need not be true?" His gaze pierced her. "What are you afraid of, Xenia? Whatever you are running from, I can help you?—"

"You can't."

Fear oozed through her, the memory of her papa's weary and determined face.

"Don't be afraid, poppet. I won't let her hurt us any longer. We're going to leave this life behind us—start afresh."

He'd been confident up until the moment Mama and her lackeys had charged into the cottage where they'd been hiding.

"You'll be all right, poppet. Put your hands over your ears."

Those had been his last words to her before Mama's brutes dragged him outside.

She'd done as he asked, but she heard it anyway—his cries of pain, that single ringing shot that pierced her own heart. When she'd tried to run to him, Mama had blocked her way.

"Those who betray me don't survive, so let that be a lesson, daughter mine."

That was a lesson Xenia refused to learn. She'd run and run from her mother's cruelty, willing to accept the consequences. Finally, she thought she was free, but danger shadowed her to Mr. Trelawney's cozy bookshop. It knocked over his shelves, smashed his money box, and sliced his throat wide open.

Safety was an illusion.

Even here. Even now.

Even with the man she was falling in love with.

The realization of her feelings did nothing to alleviate her fear. In fact, it made it worse. This affair with Ethan was pure selfishness on her part. Even if he could accept her past, her presence in his life put him at risk.

"If you run again, daughter mine, I will find you." Mama's vow had terrified her more than the beatings, more than being chained like an animal. " I will always find you—and you won't like it when I do."

"Xenia."

At Ethan's gentle shake, she snapped out of the past.

"Tell me what is troubling you," he said intently.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Does it involve debts? I can help you?—"

"I will not take your money." As uncertain as she was about everything else, she was sure of this. "I am not your whore."

He stiffened. "I never implied that you were."

Seeing the tight line of his mouth, she regretted her harsh words. He was only trying to help, but he couldn't—no one could. When the past caught up to her, as it always did, she had only one choice, and she promised herself she would make it.

No matter how hard I fall for Ethan, I will leave to protect him.

"Forgive me," she said miserably. "You asked for honesty from me, and this is the truth: I cannot promise you anything but the moment. I know that's not worth much?—"

"Christ, Xenia. You've no idea of your own worth, do you?" He pulled her into his arms.

Held by his solid strength, she realized she was trembling. He pressed her cheek against his chest, and she didn't resist.

His voice was like rough velvet against her ear. "One day, you are going to trust me."

"It's not about trusting you?—"

"I disagree."

Lifting her head, she managed a wobbly smile. "Can we agree to disagree?"

He regarded her for a moment. "It depends."

"On?"

"Whether you can distract me."

Relieved to see the crinkles of humor around his eyes, she was leaning up to kiss him when the door flung open. They sprang apart, and Xenia stared as a young lady blew into the library like a spring breeze. Silk flowers fluttered on her bonnet, the skirts of her lavender gown frothing with her haste. The newcomer was stunning: raven-haired and slender, she had sculpted features worthy of a cameo, familiar violet eyes, and an air of well-bred confidence.

Her lively gaze locked on Ethan, whose jaw slackened.

"Gigi?" Surprise laced his words. "What the devil are you doing here?"

"Oh, my dearest brother," Gigi wailed. "I'm ruined. "

With that, she dashed over and flung herself into Ethan's arms.