CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"I'm sorry again about last night."

I looked up to where she sat on the sofa with her book in her lap.

I'd given her a dress shirt to wear. I regretted that decision the second she left her room. Hair damp. Face flushed and glowing from the shower. It was longer, which theoretically should have been less distracting. Instead, I was tormented by the dusky outline of her nipples through the white fabric. They were painfully visible with the morning overcast slipping pale fingers through the window to turn the fabric practically transparent.

I hadn't taken her to the dining hall with the others, not looking like that. A short sweater that showcased her beautiful legs was one thing, but I wasn't about to share anything else with the rest of the house. Only, now that I was alone with her dressed like that, I wasn't sure that was any better.

"The house does that to you. It makes you feel crazy," I told her, not at all upset about the previous night. I'd already been up reading when her first scream tore me out of bed. I'd been prepared to rip the fucker to pieces with my bare hands. "Eat your breakfast."

Her gaze drifted to the oil painting of my great, great, great, great grandfather Hael Lacroix, the designer and architect of Lacroix manner hanging over the fireplace. The man who started the curse.

"The house doesn't make me feel crazy. I love the house."

I didn't think there was anything else she could have said that would have broken my heart more.

All the women loved the house.

They all wanted to fix it and make it a home. That was what the house did, it lured them into a false sense of security before claiming their soul. It was the vilest sort of love.

"Don't do that, sweetheart." I could hear the plea in my own voice. "Don't fall in love with this place."

Her head jerked in my direction. The softness in her face replaced by mortified horror. "Oh, I only just meant it's a gorgeous house."

No longer able to concentrate on the small mountain of paperwork accumulating at my elbow, I got to my feet. I kept my focus on the angelic lines of her face, unable to look away as I tugged down the cuffs of my shirt and started towards her.

Her big eyes watched me approach with understandable trepidation but when I extended my palm, she gave it a fleeting glance before accepting it and letting me draw her up to stand before me. Her face upturned and so vulnerable.

Fuck, how badly I wanted to kiss that mouth. It was always just there. Always just slightly parted as if waiting.

"You need clothes," I said instead. "And you shouldn't be walking around this place without shoes."

"I really can't pay you back," she murmured.

Against my better judgement, my attention slipped to her mouth again. "I'm sure we can think of something."

The object of my painful fascination tucked between her teeth and I almost groaned.

I was so fucking close.

Just one dip of my head.

One taste.

But it wouldn't stop there. I knew it. Once I had my mouth on hers, my hands twisted in her hair, I would pull her down on the sofa and rip the shit out of my favorite top. I would have the tattered pieces splayed around her like torn wings while I demolished and violated every inch of her.

Blood brightened beneath the creamy skin of her face and spread down her throat the longer I stood there lost in her. I followed it until I was stopped by the buttons closed neatly at her throat. I wondered just how low the flush went. If it covered the swells of her breasts.

If her nipples were hard.

If her pussy was wet.

My imagination was fire and skin and the smell of me still on hers, and her eyes and the fact that she was only safe from me by a scrap of fabric.

"Fuck," I growled without thinking.

The tiny fingers still clasped in mine trembled and I tightened my hold because she was not fucking getting away from me.

"Boss?" Cyrus, hands folded at his back, his blue eyes on the ground at his feet stood awkwardly in the open doorway.

"What?" I snapped.

"We're leaving in ten to meet Laszlo."

I cursed under my breath; I'd forgotten about the meeting.

"Pull the car around."

"Already done."

I nodded and peered down at the woman slowly destroying me. "Up for a car ride, love?"

Her eyebrows lifted. "I can come with you?"

With her hand still in mine, I led her to the door. Cyrus stepped aside, eyes still carefully averted.

"I don't think you should trust me to find you clothes," I said evenly.

"Why not?"

The corner of my mouth quirked. "You wouldn't be wearing much."

Her eyes widened even as her face flamed crimson. She squeaked a tiny, "Oh!" that sent me roaring despite myself. The sound crashed through the corridor. A first in a very long time.

I took her up and kept tugging her along when she started to pause at her door. Her curious glance up at me was met with the squeeze of her fingers.

The door to my room opened with the twist of the bed brass knob. It swung in and I nudged her inside.

Her gasp was everything.

I knew it would be. I knew her fascination with windows would make my room the best room in the house.

"I can't believe it!" She hurried to stand at the center of the massive sheets of glass dominating three of the walls to peer down at the lake rippling just beneath it. Then the vaulted, glass ceiling damp with rain overhead. "How do you ever leave this room?"

I felt myself grin as I left her to trace the smear of gray and green landscape far in the distance and ducked into my closet.

She was still there when I returned with a black blazer, a bundle of socks and a pair of boots.

"I could stay here forever," she breathed.

I didn't think she was talking to me, yet I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking what was stopping her.

I had definitely been without a woman too long if the first one to land on my doorstep had me in knots. It had only been two days.

Two days.

Offering to share my bed was a step I hadn't taken with any of the others. They hadn't even seen the inside of my room. It was my space.

My personal space.

But looking up to where she stood with her small hands flat against the glass and her eyes fixed on the horizon like it held the key to her next breath, I didn't mind her there.

I stepped up carefully behind her. "We have to go."

Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh before she faced me.

I led her to the bed and perched her on the edge. She continued to watch the world from over my shoulder as I dampened a rag in the bathroom sink and returned to clean her feet.

"What's out there?" she said.

I looked up only long enough to follow her gaze to where coils of fog lifted from the ground like ghosts escaping purgatory. "Swamps."

"Is that why it's so foggy?"

I switched her left foot for her right. "The ground is warm and the air cool around this time. Ireland's the same. It's full of bogs and marshes and the fog is thick when the weather changes."

"Ireland," she repeated with a little smile. "That's what your accent is."

I lifted my chin and eyebrow. "It wasn't obvious?"

She gave an embarrassed shrug. "I've never heard anyone from Ireland. You're my first."

"Not even in the movies?"

She looked away. "I haven't seen any movies." She paused before adding quietly, "I've seen one."

"One? Was it so awful you had to swear off movies for the rest of your life?"

Her giggle had me biting back a smile. "No. I don't honestly remember what it was."

I clicked my tongue and reached for a sock. I pulled it over one foot. "Well, that won't do. Can't be a well-rounded person if you haven't seen The Notebook. It's a classic I'm told."

"The Notebook?" she mimicked. "What's it about?"

I pulled her other sock on.

"Seriously? Ryan Gosling?" she blinked at me blankly. "I thought everyone knew about him."

"No, sorry."

I just shook my head reaching for a boot. "I honestly haven't the foggiest idea what it's about, but it's mandatory to watch it."

"Really?"

I nodded, tugging the laces tight. They would still slip off, but they were better than nothing until we could get her something that fit.

"I think it might be the law."

Her round eyes narrowed, and I laughed. "Then how come you haven't seen it if it's the law?" she challenged.

I shot her my best lopsided grin. "I'm a rebel."

Her lips broke into a smile that pulled into a chuckle that made my blood warm all the way down to my toes. The soft folds opened but the words stopped when her gaze took in my kneeling position, the second boot I was slipping onto her right foot and the dirty rag I'd used to clean her feet. They widened as they lifted up to mine once more with realization.

"You put shoes on me."

"You can't go out without them," I pointed out.

Her head bobbed slowly. "Yes, but you washed my feet."

I tugged a knot over the second set of laces and pushed up to stand before her. She gave me her hand when I held out mine and I drew her up.

"They were dirty."

She stared up at me when a mixture of confusion and something I didn't think even she could identify. "Thank you."

I pulled the blazer off the bed and had her slide her arms through. The material was heavy enough and thick enough to keep her warm and covered. At the very least, I wouldn't have to kill anyone for staring.

Cyrus was right outside the door when we emerged. He took Blue's outfit in with only a flicker of surprise before leading the way downstairs.

I stayed at Blue's side. My fingers firm around her elbow. The boots were too big. But we got to the bottom, and she offered me a grateful little smile.

The car was already out front, the engine idling. I opened the back for Blue and watched her ease into the seat. I waited until I heard the subtle click of her belt latching before closing the door and turning to Cyrus.

"I want you to stay with her."

"In case she tries to run?"

I hadn't even thought of that. The possibility hadn't even occurred to me, but I supposed it should have given the situation.

"Yes, and make sure no one sees her." Which had been my initial concern; the person she was running from warranted a whole new identity and while I would have liked nothing more than to see the fucker try and get to her, I wasn't going to put Blue at risk just to get my hands on him.