Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

C ecilia looked at the charred remains of Penrose in dismay. She now understood why there had been no trace of the house visible through the looking glass. Fire had torn through the place, gutting it, and the vegetation had returned to the fire-scoured soil with a vengeance. They'd had to fight their way through tight secondary growth, a dense thicket that had sprung up around the ruin.

Now she and Lionel stood before it.

A wall faced them with empty eye-sockets of windows. The entrance was outlined by its stone lintel but the doors were long gone. Through the empty windows, Cecilia could see the blackened beams of the roof and the skeleton of charred floorboards. They jutted in odd directions, like the bones of some long-dead leviathan. She picked her way carefully through nettle and bramble to reach closer to the door.

"Careful!" Lionel cautioned. "The structure may be unstable."

He made to follow her but his foot snagged in something and he stumbled. Cecilia turned as he put out a hand to stop himself from falling. He cried out at the pain in his leg and then the sudden stinging as his hand plunged into a patch of nettles. The fight through the dense thicket to reach the house had taken its toll on his leg which now ached abominably. His knee felt like water and his thigh trembled with the effort of holding him up. Cecilia came to him, leaping over the tallest brambles, kicking aside nettles. Lionel made to pick himself up but his leg would not allow it.

"What is it?" Cecilia said with concern.

Lionel grimaced. "It is nothing. The wound I suffered the day your brother was killed. It leaves me weak sometimes and in pain. But I can manage."

Cecilia seized his arm, leaning back to help him to his feet. She could see that he was attempting to put on a brave face, covering up his weakness. It was silly to her. She did not think any less of him suffering an injury. She noticed a thick stem of brambles clinging tenaciously to his breeches and made to brush them away lest they tear the fabric or cut into the leg.

Under her hand, she felt something that was not flesh. Lionel immediately withdrew, stepping away from her touch. But he could not stand without support and his leg gave way beneath him. He fell, thumping down hard on the ground. Cecilia knelt beside him, skirts thick enough that she could ignore the nettles she knelt on. She put her hands gently to his left leg and felt it again. Lionel tried to stop her but then growled in frustration and let his hands drop.

"What is this?" Cecilia asked.

He looked at her for a moment, then he sighed. "Something I did not want you to see," he finally conceded. "After my recovery, I still had a weakness in my left leg that hampered my ability to walk significantly. It was… it was the other part of the reason Arabella put an end to the betrothal. Ever since, I have had to make some concessions in my life so as to not become a cripple. There is a frame made of leather and wood which is flexible but strong. It replaced the strength I had lost in my left leg."

"Arabella had ended the betrothal over such a thing as that?" Cecilia gasped, bewildered. "What in heavens…"

Lionel simply shrugged. "I would be dishonest if I said it affected me much. It was the early days of the accident. I was too entwined with my recovery and thoughts of revenge against Thorpe that losing someone dear to me—though it did leave a sharp sting of betrayal—eventually felt like a burden I was freed from. I preferred to remain alone, honestly, and it is how I stayed. Only Blackwood by my side."

Cecilia felt a tincture of uneasiness with his simple response. Perhaps he intended to disarm her, not fuel any lingering insecurities she might have once harbored when comparing herself to his ex-fiancée. But all she wanted to do now was ask if it might become the case with her also—simply being a stepping stone in his greater story dedicated to something that wasn't her. She decided against it.

"So… those marks that I noticed earlier, they were left by this device?" Cecilia asked instead, rolling up his breeches to examine his leg further.

"They were. It is not uncomfortable. Not really. But it does leave some bruises."

"They at least must be painful. What can I do to help?"

Lionel looked at her. Cecilia gazed back openly, waiting to know how she could ease his burden. There was no question in her mind that she could and would help him, however he needed it. She could not think how for the moment but the idea occurred to her that Thornhill's library was extensive. Would there be medical books there that might give her the answer?

"I honestly do not know," Lionel sighed. "I take the juice of the poppy for the pain when it becomes unbearable. When it is simply uncomfortable, I endure it."

"Something to soothe the muscles then, perhaps?" Cecilia thought aloud. "The application of heat is often used in horses when they are lame. So perhaps a hot bath? There must be something."

Lionel laughed. "Cecilia, if this is an invitation to share a bath, I shall more than gladly accept. But I have lived with this for some time. I do not think you can ease this pain so simply, but I appreciate you giving it much thought."

At that point, he winced, lifting his hand where welts left by the stinging nettles were raising bumps along the inside of his wrist.

"Well, that at least I can cure," Cecilia began, "where there are nettles there are always…" She cast about until she saw a clump of dock leaves, "Ah ha!"

She got up and gathered a handful, then sat back down beside Lionel and began to rub vigorously. His skin became green under the effect of the dock leaves but the swelling subsided. Lionel raised an eyebrow.

"I did not know there was a cure for stinging nettles. That did not feature in my education at Westlands. How did you know?"

"Because some of my closest friends are farmers," Cecilia chimed brightly. "I learned a lot of woodcraft from them. All that Arthur did not teach me."

"You are remarkable," Lionel gushed.

Cecilia looked up into soft eyes. She flushed, seeing the adoration in them. It felt like a reflection of the emotion she felt towards him. She felt validated. After enduring loneliness for weeks at Thornhill, being embraced and then rejected all over again, she felt that she had earned the emotion shining in his eyes now. It was her reward. She smiled and kissed him softly. Intended only as a peck on the lips, it became something deeper as she cupped his face in her hands. His arms went about her, gathering her body in and depositing her on his lap. Then he put his hand to the ground and yelped in pain as he found a clump of nettles again. Cecilia laughed as he sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

"Let us extricate ourselves from this prickly mire," Cecilia grinned.

"Do you not want to look at Penrose?" Lionel asked.

She looked up at the blackened edifice and shook her head. "This is not Penrose. That was a house of joy and laughter, even after mother and father passed. This is a husk."

Lionel looked over the walls and glaring windows, frowning. "We will rebuild it. It is yours by right. It cannot remain in the hands of the Sinclairs."

"Do you think the fire was accidental?" Cecilia wondered aloud.

"Not if it erased all evidence of Arthur's wishes regarding his legacy. What I don't understand is how such a covetous couple would be willing to squander such a valuable piece of property. It may not have the grandiosity of Hamilton, but it was a fine house and worth a tidy sum. Why not sell it if they did not want to live in it? Or better yet, rent it out and accrue a steady income from it? It seems out of character..."

Cecilia stood and reached down to help Lionel to his feet. He rose stiffly and with a groan of pain, brushing at his clothes.

"I cannot fathom. Perhaps the fire got out of control? Set to destroy the study or library, wherever the documents were kept."

Lionel rubbed his chin, frowning intently. "I cannot believe that the Sinclairs would do anything without a motive that might profit them. How does allowing this house to be destroyed profit them? It will take some thinking."

"Can we get away from here?" Cecilia muttered plaintively. "It is like seeing the body of a relative you last saw hale and hearty."

Lionel nodded, turning away from the ruin of Penrose. Cecilia felt the urge to look back but resisted it. She concentrated on helping Lionel through the voracious and tangled undergrowth without falling on her face. Without a free hand to lift her skirts, they caught on every bramble and thorn. Soon they were both stumbling and tripping, falling over their own feet and each other's. Were it not for the somber nature of the occasion, Cecilia would have laughed. Finally, sweating, pricked, and disheveled, they emerged from the thicket to where the coach waited on the road.

"I will not get much sleep tonight," Lionel groaned as the driver, having leaped from his seat at the first sight of his stricken master, helped him into the coach. Cecilia alighted beside him and gave instructions to return to Thornhill.

Lionel looked pale, his face tight. When she touched his hand, she thought she felt a slight tremor.

"How long since you last took poppy juice?" she asked.

"I have not always needed it. But probably three days," Lionel gritted.

"Perhaps a dose when we return to the castle will help," Cecilia said, innocently.

In truth, she knew more about medicine for cows, sheep, or horses than she did for humans. It seemed logical that a medicine whose purpose was to relieve pain must be a boon, but equally, she wondered how else the pain might be alleviated. Once Lionel was resting, she resolved to dive into Thornhill's library and discover all she could. She took his hand tightly in her own and rested her head on his shoulders.

"I will be fine," he tried to reassure her, only to suppress a groan as the coach rode a bump, "I just require a tincture of poppy juice and some rest."

Cecilia sat on the side of the bed, listening to the deep, tranquil breaths of Lionel's sleep. His bedchamber was larger than hers and now accommodated her three wardrobes as well as his own. He had no suite, only a large bedroom, bathing chamber, and study. Cecilia had not been back to the rooms that had been assigned to her for some time. After all, his bed was now her bed.

Outside, a full moon cast pale light over the rooftops. A flickering light was cast by the fire inside as well as a comforting warmth. Lionel had been stubborn about accepting the medicine until he had completed the tasks he deemed necessary. Cecilia had wanted him into bed as soon as they returned to Thornhill by late afternoon, but Lionel had other ideas. He summoned Blackwood and began issuing instructions. Those had included sending for Sir Menzies Lennox, whom he introduced to Cecilia as a brilliant detective and long-term conspirator. He also penned notes to his solicitors in London. As he did this, Cecilia, throwing up her hands in frustration, retired to the library and began to read.

Peggy found her some hours later with the message that the Duke was retiring to his chambers after taking his medicine. She had found a single book that made an interesting suggestion for an alternative. She made her way to the bedchambers she shared with Lionel but first made a detour to the kitchens and requested a number of items from a bewildered Mrs. Hardcastle. Now, she sat and watched her husband sleeping peacefully. He had undressed, preferring to sleep naked. The bed sheets reached to just beyond his navel, giving an uninterrupted view of his muscular torso.

Cecilia ran gentle fingers over sculpted pectorals and a flat, hard stomach. She had never met anyone so unashamedly masculine. Never known how inanimate muscle and bone could give an aura of god-like power and strength. She moved her touch to his arms which lay atop the sheets. A vein ran down the middle of each bicep which bulged even in the relaxation of sleep. Lionel's head turned on the pillow, and suddenly his eyes were open and looking at her.

"I did not mean to wake you," Cecilia whispered.

"I don't think I could sleep with the scent of you in my head," Lionel murmured in turn.

He sat up, the sheet falling lower, revealing more of his body, and making Cecilia's pulse race. She too had taken to sleeping naked since sharing a bed with Lionel and now she wanted to be in that state very badly. But she had a greater purpose than love-making. Beside her was clean linen, warmed in the kitchens. A bowl of hot water sat next to the linen, laced with mint and a handful of other herbs which produced a soothing scent.

"I found an old book in the library, translated from an earlier tome found on the sub-continent," Cecilia began, "it explained the benefits of massage. A technique used by Indian healers for centuries."

Lionel looked skeptical. Cecilia threw back the bed sheets to reveal his left leg. She ignored the fact that she had also exposed his manhood, which was responding to that exposure. She smiled slightly as Lionel lay back, his eyes hot upon her. She picked up the small dish of butter that had lain beneath the linen and began to rub some between her fingers. Then she began to rub at the muscle of Lionel's thigh. As she worked, the expression of expectant desire on his face began to change. An expression more akin to relief and surprised pleasure began to dawn.

Cecilia probed the rock-hard muscle. At first, it was like kneading stone. Then she began to feel knots long tied into that muscle beginning to loosen. As it did, Lionel's expression of bliss deepened. He gasped as she pushed deeper with thumbs and stiff fingers, finding new pockets of tension. Initially, the gasp was pained and he began to sit up. Then it became a sigh and he relaxed once more. Dipping the linen into the hot water, she wrung the excess water from the fabric and then wrapped it tight around Lionel's thigh before continuing her manual work.

"The pain… it's receding," Lionel breathed, "even with the poppy juice there has always been underlying pain. Even the stiffness is going. I have not felt like this since before that day."

He opened his eyes and looked up at Cecilia. She was smiling proudly, seeing the effect of her newly learned knowledge.

"Does it work on other parts of the body?" Lionel smirked wolfishly.

He sat up, kissing Cecilia and then reaching for the buttons at her back that fastened her dress.