Page 40 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
“How old was he then?”
Niniver screwed up her face in thought. “Ten—he must have been ten years old. He stayed for a year or so, and then he went to Glasgow, to go to school and live with Aunt Katherine’s brother, Quentin Hemmings, and his wife, Winifred, and his son Humphrey, who is the same age as Thomas. From what I’ve gathered, Papa and Quentin, who were Thomas’s co-guardians, thought that with Thomas inheriting half of Carrick Enterprises, he needed to learn about business and Glasgow.” Niniver lifted a shoulder. “And with Nigel to take over after Papa, there wasn’t any reason for Thomas to learn all that much about the estate.”
Lucilla managed not to look puzzled; there had to be more. “How much time did Thomas spend here after he went to live in Glasgow?”
“Not that much. He came for the holidays, and sometimes stayed for a month or so in summer.” Niniver shifted. “In those days, he was closer to Nigel and Nolan, but the older they grew, the more…different they became.” She frowned. “Ever since they reached twenty or so, Thomas has seemed much older, much more mature and reliable than Nigel and Nolan.” Niniver glanced across and met Lucilla’s eyes. “Much more adult.”
There was no arguing that, but what about Thomas’s connection to the land? How had that evolved, and when? Although he’d been born with a link to the Lady, time was generally needed for such a bond to grow, strengthen, and mature.
Lucilla glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “We should probably ring for the tea trolley.”
While Niniver rose and went to tug the bellpull, Lucilla inwardly frowned over what she’d thus far learned of Thomas’s past.
She’d assumed he’d been born in the Lady’s lands, under her mantle, and he had been.
HewasLady-touched; that was beyond question. Lucilla knew it, and Marcus did, too.
But given Thomas had spent so little time on the Lady’s lands, either in childhood or as an adult, didheknow he was Lady-touched? Did he understand what it meant?
Most important of all, did he know he was Lucilla’s Lady-ordained consort?
He had to know, surely?
But if he didn’t understand about the Lady…
When Thomas walked into the drawing room ahead of the tea trolley, Lucilla’s gaze locked on him.
He saw and arched a brow. “The others have retired.” He came forward and sat in the other armchair, shoulders square against the padded back, his long legs bent.
Despite the question humming in her brain, Lucilla drank in the inherent masculine strength on display; for a large man, he possessed a certain fluid grace, one that brought to mind the flexibility of steel rather than the rigidity of iron.
“Shall I pour?”
Niniver’s question broke the spell. Lucilla glanced at her. Ferguson had positioned the tea trolley between the sofa and her armchair. Lucilla smiled. “Please.”
Niniver did the honors, and Thomas passed Lucilla her cup, then accepted one himself. Lifting her own cup and saucer, Niniver sat back.
Lucilla sipped. She wanted to ask Thomas about his understanding of the Lady, but she couldn’t think of any subtle way to introduce the topic.
She felt Niniver’s gaze as she, too, sipped, then Niniver lowered her cup and looked at Thomas. “How are your uncle and aunt? And Humphrey?”
In other circumstances, Lucilla would have listened, eager to learn more about Thomas’s life. Instead, she felt consumed by a welling urgency to confirm that he knew, that he understood—that he recognized what he was to her and, conversely, what she was to him.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, her thoughts in a whirl, but her cup was empty when Niniver delicately smothered a yawn, then, somewhat unexpectedly, rose. “I’m for bed. I’ll see you both at breakfast.” Setting her cup and saucer on the trolley, Niniver walked out of the room.
Leaving Lucilla blinking after her. Then she glanced at Thomas and saw his understanding grin.
“Just as well we’re not in London. Or even Glasgow.” He set his cup and saucer on the trolley, then reached for hers.
Lucilla surrendered it. And mentally shook her wits into place. Niniver had handed her an opportunity—one she needed to use. “I…” She feigned a grimace. “I don’t always sleep well when away from the Vale. I would like to stroll in the fresh air for a short while before I try to sleep, but I don’t know where would be appropriate.” She met Thomas’s eyes and made sure her own gaze was limpid, devoid of intent. “Will you walk with me? I would prefer not to walk alone.”
Thomas studied her green eyes. He could see no calculation therein, yet…he was fairly certain there was a subtle threat in her last sentence. She would walk alone if he didn’t go with her—and he didn’t want her walking alone, not with even the vaguest possibility that they might have a murderer lurking.
That said…while he would trust her with his life, he wasn’t sure he could trust her in this. Could afford to trust her in this. He could remember all too well—indeed, with senses-stealing clarity—just what had happened the last time they’d strolled. Yes, she’d tripped. Yes, he’d caught her. But that kiss…she’d initiated that all on her own.
And she’d snared him. Hauled him out of his carefully controlled environment and shown him just what she represented.
Something elemental. Something so viscerally powerful and potent that if he surrendered to it, it would swallow him—all he was—whole.
