Page 26 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
If Thomas had been disturbed by Joy Burns’s death, he was deeply troubled now.
So was Manachan. Once Thomas had, with Edgar’s help, settled Manachan on his bed, Manachan grasped Thomas’s sleeve. “Something’s going on. I need to know what.”
Unable to keep the grimness from his expression, Thomas nodded. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.” Whatever “it” was.
Manachan’s eyes searched his; his grip on Thomas’s sleeve tightened. “Will you stay until this is sorted out?”
Thomas couldn’t recall Manachan ever asking him for help; a laird did not ask for help—a laird gave it. “Yes, of course.” He closed his hand over Manachan’s and briefly squeezed.
“Good. Excellent.” Relaxing against the pillows, Manachan released him. “Come and tell me what you learn.”
An order. “I will.” Raising his gaze from Manachan’s increasingly pallid face, Thomas exchanged a meaningful glance with Edgar. “Meanwhile, just rest.”
After quitting Manachan’s room, Thomas paused in the gallery, then went in search of Lucilla.
He eventually tracked her to the library. She was seated behind Manachan’s huge desk, writing a letter.
Thomas inwardly sighed. He closed the door; she glanced up at the snick of the latch but immediately returned to her task.
He started down the long room. “It was one thing for you to stay in this house when the only dead body we had on our hands died in a farmhouse miles away.”
She didn’t even glance up. “I’m not leaving. Your uncle needs help, and so does your clan.”
“Your family will come down on Manachan’s head like avenging angels if anything happens to you while you are, however nominally, in our care.” His words were clipped. He halted before the desk. “That concerns Manachan and the clan, too.”
She waved at the letter. “I’m explaining the situation to Marcus. He’ll appreciate the need for me to remain here.” She wrote another line. “I’m asking him to send some clothes for a few days’ stay.”
Thomas leaned his fists on the edge of the desk.
She glanced briefly up at him but continued calmly writing. “I can assure you Marcus won’t create a fuss.”
Thomas had no doubt that her twin had been conditioned from an early age to stay out of his sister’s way. “Lucilla.” His gaze on her face, he waited until she looked up at him. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay.”
She had, he realized, already signed her letter. She held his gaze and, without looking away, set the pen aside and picked up the blotter. Emerald eyes, intensely green, the vibrant hue highlighted by tiny flecks of gold, never wavered. “Thomas,” she said, “I’m staying.”
And you have neither the right nor the power to gainsay me.
Lucilla held back those words, but she was prepared to utter them if he drove her to it. His amber eyes narrowed; they searched her eyes almost as if he could read that unuttered sentence inscribed therein.
His lips tightened even more; at the edge of her vision, she saw the ripple of his sleeves as muscles bunched beneath.
Eye to eye, metaphorical toe to toe, she waited.
She wondered how long she could manage without breathing.
Just when she was starting to feel a touch light-headed, the tension holding him eased. His muscles unknotted, then he straightened. “Very well.”
His tone was beyond clipped. She might have won that round, but he was not happy with the outcome and had in no way conceded the game.
His gaze lowered to her letter. He nodded curtly at it. “Let me have that, and I’ll get Fred to ride over and deliver it.”
Blotter in hand, she glanced down at her missive. There was nothing more she needed to tell her twin; Marcus was exceptionally talented at reading between her lines. Then she remembered; she looked at Thomas and arched a brow. “Would you like me to ask Marcus about the seed supply?”
He considered it; she could see him silently evaluating the pros and cons. But at last, he shook his head. “No.” He met her gaze. “Nigel is supposedly managing the estate. I should ask him first.” His brows rose cynically. “Again.”
She was growing used to reading between his lines, too. “So you don’t step on his toes?”
His lips thinned, but he nodded. “Precisely.”
