Page 190 of Merciless Desires

I watched her as I took steadying breaths. “Dinner then. Here at the Hall.”

She brightened slightly. “When?”

I closed my eyes against the discomfort of having to actually spend time with another person. “This evening,” I said, with all the joy of an arachnophobe being forced into a tank of spiders.

I turned away and walked to the door, feeling her curious gaze on my back. “Clothes will be delivered,” I said, without turning round.

Then I walked out, locking the door behind me.

Chapter Seven

Rose

I laid on the bed and stared out of the window, paralysed with boredom, until a faint knock at the door made my heart thump. I reached for the bathrobe Dalziel had wrapped around me and threw it on just in time to see the door to my suite open and the maid from my second day step inside. This time though, she had company.

“A delivery for you, miss.”

I hugged the robe around myself as two men entered pulling a covered clothes rack into the room. I stepped back to let them pass through to the bedroom. Neither one of them batted an eyelid at my clothes – underwear included – strewn across the floor. Without speaking, they removed the enclosure, revealing about twenty suit bags. Deftly, they unzipped each one and hung the garments in my cavernous wardrobe. They worked so quickly, I couldn’t identify what each item was but my heart fluttered at the sight of such beautiful fabrics, all in shades and tones that would complement my notoriously clashy colouring. Creams, corals and the palest of greens swayed together like a perfect sunset over a crystal sea.

I waited as the men packed up the rail and suit bags and left without any acknowledgement I was even there, then I turned to the maid.

“Master Thorn has invited you to dine with him downstairs,” she said, averting her gaze from my bathrobe.

My eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“In one hour.” She glanced up shyly. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

As soon as she left, I opened the wardrobe and rifled through the clothes, both loving the textures and hating the fact I did.

There were six day dresses, each with different hems, cuts and necklines; four evening gowns in pale grey, sand, peach and coral; four stunning shirts and blouses; four pairs of trousers – two smart and two casual; and two hanging bags filled with nightwear and lingerie. I swallowed as I laid each set on the bed. My eyes were immediately drawn to a pale pink balconette bra made of the finest, softest lace, and matching pants. I caressed them before looking back to the gowns. What should I wear?

I did a mental inventory of the scenario. I was about to have dinner in a grand stately home with a handsome but intensely unlikeable stranger who was paying for my virginity but holding me captive until I was ready to deliver it wholeheartedly. Remi was going to have a conniption.

I selected a floor-length crepe slip in pale pink to match the underwear. It shamelessly exposed the first degree burn scar across my back. Then the realisation hit me like a falling stack of bricks. This was why he’d chosen me. I was as damaged as he was. The only difference was I had the ability to hide my own scars. Dalziel couldn’t hide his from anyone. Forget wearing his heart on his sleeve, Dalziel Thorn wore his history on the side of his face.

I wondered again what had happened to him. I knew enough about scars to be certain those were not birth marks. Those had been inflicted. It was clear to me he had too much pride and – dare I admit it – spirit to do that to himself. Someone had done it to him. But who? And why? And were they still in his life? I was likely I would never know.

I freshened up in the bathroom, fastened my hair in a loose knot and freed a few strands around my face. I kept my make-up minimal, only applying a little blush to my cheeks and gloss to my lips.

“You look beautiful, miss.” The maid’s eyes widened for a brief moment before she glanced away again timidly. The presence of two solidly built security oafs was unmissable and I felt horribly self-conscious as we descended the stairs.

We walked through a series of dimly lit corridors until we reached a dark, slate-coloured door that was almost the size of my house back home. The maid pushed it open and led me into an enormous room with unfeasibly high ceilings peppered with ornate mouldings. The walls were edged with black wood panelling and beautiful wallpaper depicting all the flora and fauna, nature and wildlife I’d read could be found on the Isle of Crow. My breath caught in my throat as I took it all in.

“Take a seat, miss.” The maid’s words cut through my reverie and I dropped my gaze to a table in the centre of the room. It was long and thin with a chair at each end. In one of them sat Dalziel, but I’d known that already. I’d felt the heat of his gaze the second I entered the room. Strangely, I didn’t feel the need to look back at him. Something about his presence felt permanent. He’d still be there to see when I eventually looked his way.

He sat back in a chair, casually, like he owned the place – which he practically did – and his pale eye narrowed on me. “You heard her. Take a seat.”

He glanced at the maid and jerked his head. His dismissal of her tasted sour in my mouth.

I frowned. “You seriously want me to sit all the way down here?”

He crossed a leg over his knee, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. “Unless you want to sit on the floor.”

“I know how to move a chair,” I said with a pout. “But you’re supposed to be the gentleman here.”

His good brow arched. “And I thought I’d paid for a lady. What’s wrong with sitting at the end of the table?”

“I thought the whole idea was for me to get to know you. I can hardly do that when you’re a dot in the distance.”

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