Page 51 of The Moonstone Pirate
She blushed. “Oh, Draco. You are no fun to tease. I am not going to let you pay for my earrings.”
“Imogen, I know you were in jest. But I am serious. I have another request of you.”
She appeared surprised. “What is it?”
“When you are in that shop with Deandra, if you see a butterfly brooch or butterfly clips for your hair, buy them for yourself along with those earrings you admire. Again, for my account. I should have thought of it sooner.”
“No, Draco.”
“Are you refusing my gifts?”
She cast him an impatient look. “They are too personal, especially the butterfly jewelry. It is merely a jest between us. Do not make it into something more.”
“In fact, I have not given it the consideration it deserves. But all right. I will not press you on the matter, since my gifts, even innocently intended, make you feel uncomfortable. Goodnight, then, Imogen.”
My butterfly.
He rode off to Woodley Lodge with Parrot loping at his side.
His butler was standing by the front door with a lamp in hand. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Evening, Wescott. Hope I did not keep you up too late.” The rest of the house was plunged in darkness, since most of the staff had retired by now.
“No, my lord.”
One of his grooms came running out of the stable to take his mount. “I have him, m’lord.”
He smiled at the lad. “Thank you, Robin.”
His entire staff was newly hired, and most were chosen upon the recommendation of the land agent, Mr. Priam. The man had done him a service, for all these new hires were attentive to their duties. The housekeeper was an older woman by the name of Mrs. Angel. No surprise there, since the village seemed overrun with Angels.
HisMrs. Angel ran a tight ship. Even his horrendous masquerade ball had been handled efficiently by her. That affair would have defeated the hardiest of souls. Not only had she handled all the preparations magnificently, but every stick of furniture moved out to make room for the crowd had already been put back in its proper place, and every piece of silverware accounted for.
He and Wescott went about closing up the house. Once that chore was completed, Draco retired to his own bedchamber. Parrot followed him upstairs, stretching out like a big, loveable lump at the foot of his bed.
Draco undressed and then washed up. He slept naked even on the coldest winter nights. This summer night was warm, and the room would have been stifling had there not been a refreshing sea breeze blowing in through the open windows. He could hear waves breaking on the distant shore like soft cannon bursts as they struck the cave hollows.
He donned his robe and crossed to the small balcony that looked out over the cove. The moon was already high, reflecting its silvery beams off the water. Imogen had said there were moonstones beneath those waters.
Deandra had been going on and on about them, about love and about his little butterfly, Imogen.
Would the moonstones really shine for him and Imogen?
Well, he knew they would.
But opening his heart to her was impossible right now. She was the sort who would risk her life to save him, and he could not allow that to happen. Keeping some distance between them was important.
But how did one stop true love? Could such a thing be scheduled? Or simply postponed as one might postpone a meeting?
Not even three full days had passed, yet his heart was completely conquered.
Indeed, it would be torn to shreds if any harm came to Imogen.
Could he strike a bargain with those moonstones? If they kept her safe, he would agree to love her. Yes, he would kiss her and he would love her. “And keep faithfully to my weddingvows,” he said aloud, as though these hidden stones could understand him.
Were the moonstones listening?
Chapter Eight
