Page 59 of Tempted
Though Ram’s belly was empty, he avoided the hall knowing the smells would undo him. As he made for the front door he came face to face with Valentina, who had picked up the skirts of her sapphire riding skirt, exposing tall, black, high-heeled boots, so that she could more easily run.
Though he looked very forbidding and his wide shoulders almost loomed over her, she gave him a pretty smile. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at her, his face unreadable.
“Oh, do please forgive me, my lord,” she said breathlessly, gifting him with another dazzling smile. “It is unforgivable of me to be late. I hope you dined without me.”
“No,” he said tersely. She was smaller than he remembered, and twice as beautiful. He forced his eyes away from her heaving breasts and tiny waist.
“Oh, my lord, it was so kind of you to await me, but—”
“I seldom indulge in kindness,” he cut in bluntly. Where were her angry words, her questions regarding his whereabouts? He should have been the one apologizing, but here she was begging his pardon He weighed the sincerity of her words, suspecting hidden insolence, but found none.
Her hand went to her disheveled hair, her eyes beseeching him to overlook both her appearance and her behavior. Her gestures were so feminine and pretty, he experienced a searing desire, followed immediately by anger. He had to find fault with her. He looked pointedly at the flowers. “It didn’t take long before ye decided tae make changes.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you like them, my lord. I apologize that your chambers were not cleaned, but I didn’t dare to presume. After all, I’ve never even seen your rooms.”
“I’m relieved that ye understand that at Douglas, my word is law.” The statement was intended to goad her. Now she’d fly at him and unsheath her claws. But she just gave him another disarming smile. “If you will be patient with me, my lord, I will learn to do things your way. I give you my word I shall try to please you.”
“If ye have a curiosity about my rooms, ye’d better come and see them,” he said. The cream shirt against his dark face and throat gave him a feral look. The soft material emphasized his strong, hard features.
“Give me time to change, and I will join you,” she said gaily, lifting her skirts above her knees as she ran up the staircase.
She had thrown him slightly off balance. He had expected either blistering anger or cool hostility and received neither. She had been almost amenable. It was an act, of course. The devious little bitch must be up to something. Since she couldn’t rule him, she’d taken over and decided to rule the roost at Douglas. But she’d wasted her efforts, he decided with satisfaction. They were leaving for the borders and Castle Douglas day after tomorrow at the latest.
When she had insisted upon moving into the chamber that had once belonged to Damaris, he had assumed she’d resist his bed like a wildcat. Now it seemed she couldn’t wait to get inside his bedchamber. Perhaps she was trying to seduce him. Well, if she had designs to spend the night with him, she was in for a letdown.
He went upstairs to await her, and as he glanced about the familiar rooms, he tried to see them through a woman’s eyes. The furniture was massive, carved from black walnut. The velvet bedhangings were deep claret, and the floor covering was woven from the natural, unbleached wool of Douglas sheep. His table and chairs were covered by Spanish leather, his walls decorated with his favorite swords, knives, daggers, and dirks. The stone fireplace in the outer room blazed cheerfully to keep out the damp. His chamber opened to the parapet walk, from which you could see the River Ayr to the west and the Pentland Hills to the east.
Where the hell was she? He grabbed up a poker and stabbed impatiently at the logs in the fireplace until they sparked and blazed. He was unused to being kept waiting by a woman. Was she taking all this time to adorn herself with some seductive chamber robe, thinking to entice him to ravish her? The elastic of his patience stretched and snapped. He flung open his door and went to fetch her.
As he raised his fist to pummel her chamber door, he heard laughter from within. He changed his mind about knocking as he realized she was talking with a man. He flung open the door upon a very domestic scene. She was sipping from a spoon that her bloody exquisite Frenchman was holding to her lips. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said sarcastically.
She pretended she heard no sarcasm. “Not at all,” she said sweetly. “You are just in time to enjoy Mr. Burque’s delicious cuisine.”
The chef bowed and departed, and she confided, “He spoils me outrageously. Of course, that’s the reason I brought him.”
“Don’t remind me how spoiled ye are, madam. I’ve been cooling my heels while ye have been entertaining yon fop.” She wore a high-necked black silk gown, not the seductive garment he’d expected, and her hair was twisted into a severe bun. As well, the aroma coming from the tray was making his mouth water. Perversely, he was annoyed that the smell of the food did not sicken him “What is that?” he asked, indicating the spoon she had been tasting.
The corners of her mouth lifted. “Ambrosia … no, not really. It’s merely soup—a few mushrooms, a little cream, a little wine.” Her eyes moved from his, down to his mouth, then back up to his eyes. “I don’t suppose I could tempt you?” Her words hung in the air
He stared at her full underlip. He was tempted, all right.
“No, of course not” She laughed. “You prefer great lashings of mutton or oxen. I’ll tell you what—I’ll just put the silver cover on to keep it warm until I return—that is, of course, if the invitation to see your rooms is still open.” She was toying with him, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He led the way, and she followed. He didn’t turn, yet he knew she had entered the chamber behind him and closed the door silently.
“I know your secret. You are a devout coward.”
He whirled upon her with an angry retort upon his lips and saw that she was speaking to the Boozer. “Coward? I’ve seen him tear the throat from a man.”
She shrugged a pretty shoulder “Anything that eats meat is capable of killing,” she replied. Was it a veiled threat? “Nevertheless, he is a coward. He is rendered into a quivering mass by a spirit.”
“A spirit?” he echoed. Was she mocking him?
“The spirit of Damaris lingers in my chamber You told me of it yourself, remember?”
Ramsay knew there were such things. He’d lived with them for over fifteen years. Other people however did not believe in ghosts Was she humoring him, or did she have an open enough mind to believe? Suddenly he didn’t want her to leave. If only she’d had the food sent here, they could dine privately and talk. He always ranged alone, but sometimes he longed for a companion, a soul mate. He watched her eyes as they traveled about the chamber, missing nothing.
“Do you like it?”
“Good heavens, Douglas, I wouldn’t go that far,” she said lightly. “It suits you, of course. For my taste, it’s too dark, too large, too harsh.” She could have been describing him. “Its saving grace is the parapet walk.”
