Collector of Hearts Page 15

  ‘I cannot compete with your skill, Lady Snowden.’

  ‘Oh, pish posh. Isabelle says that you sing like a bird and play just as sweetly. Will you sing with Robert? I have another duet here and it is surely simple enough for someone of your talent.’ She gave Arabella no choice but to sit and play.

  ‘Well... I … if Lord Shelton doesn’t mind?’

  ‘Lord Shelton will be pleased to,’ Robert finally replied, placing one large warm hand on her shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. She scanned the sheet music and then looked up at Robert, who was telling Amy with his eyes that he was not pleased.

  She had been stunned by the deep quality of his voice, and now that it was flowing over her shoulder like a warm shawl she had to concentrate even harder not to mess up the notes or sing the wrong words. It didn’t take long for him to move from behind her to the corner of the small piano so that he could look at her. She had to look at the sheet music occasionally but she could not ignore his blue eyes or his smile. As he sang it felt like he was singing only to her. In fact, she almost forgot that there were others in the room with them. Everyone clapped enthusiastically and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Amy and her mother looked at each other with a conspiratorial look. She hoped they were not scheming.

  ‘You sing beautifully, Bella,’ Robert said into her ear as he escorted her back to her seat. He surprised her by sitting next to her and crossing his arms over his chest.

  ‘You are a man of many surprises yourself, Lord Shelton.’

  He laughed softly. ‘And we have only been here one day. I hope you are feeling better, after yesterday?’

  She took a steadying breath. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Glad to hear that. I would hate to think that I may have been the cause of your, what did you call them, the deary me’s?’ His smile was warm and comforting, which was so at odds with who he was. She dare not trust it or the way it made her feel.

  ‘It had absolutely nothing to do with you,’ she reassured him, glad that there were indeed others in the room, for had they been alone she was sure they would have been kissing right now.

  Her attraction to him was growing by the day but her emotions made her unsure of her true feelings for him. For he was not considered a good person, or even really a nice person, but he had a way about him, as if there was at least some potential goodness in him. If she started giggling, she was going have to throw herself off a cliff. Anything would be better than catching a case of the Mallorys. No, she seemed to have caught something entirely different and the list of symptoms was growing by the day.

  ‘I will be in the library late tonight if you want to talk about it,’ he offered.

  Why would she want to talk about it? It was embarrassing enough that it had even happened in the first place. ‘Thank you, but I don’t think I will be joining you.’

  ‘Why not?’ His tone was low, and very alluring. Her pulse quickened.

  She turned away. It was the only way to keep her wits. ‘Why not? Because it is not safe for me to be with you alone.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to get to know me?’

  ‘I do, but I already know that you know how to kiss. I want to know other things, things that don’t involve you manhandling me.’ She looked straight ahead, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Isabelle was busy entertaining the room with her far superior talent on the pianoforte and playing a lively tune that had even her father tapping his toes.

  ‘Manhandling,’ he said in a mocking tone. He looked disgusted yet amused at the same time. Luckily he didn’t laugh as it would have brought them to the attention of the others in the room.

  ‘I do so enjoy talking to you, Arabella. I never quite know what you might say.’ When she turned his way he said, ‘I promise I did mean talk.’

  ‘No, you meant kiss.’ She valiantly kept the smile on her face, even though she was itching to elbow him in the ribs.

  Oh, how he wanted her. Wanted her, badly, but he had to concede that he did owe her a little more tact than laying her on the library floor, or up against a bookshelf, or in one of the library chairs or … He realised everyone else was clapping and joined in.

  Would his torture never end? This “getting to know him” blather of hers was starting to get on his nerves. There wasn’t that much of him to know, not really. He had thought her suggestion a convenient excuse, to let him know that she wanted his attentions. The way she kissed him proved that she liked his attentions very much, and if she liked them, she was going to love his other amusements even better.

  He decided to test her.

  ‘I meant no such thing, but if you are too scared to be in my company then what am I to do?’

  ‘I am not scared of you,’ she retorted. They both stood up when Lady Shacklesbury announced she was going to retire; a prompt to the rest of the ladies that they should do the same.

  ‘Really? You yourself just said it wasn’t safe,’ he murmured.

  ‘Why must you always have everything on your terms?’ Her tone was an angry whisper, laced with frustration.

  ‘What terms are you suggesting then?’ He was intrigued to know what she might say.

  She tilted her chin up. ‘One hour of “hands off” talk every afternoon.’

  His eyebrow lifted. ‘And?’

  ‘And, if after a week I still like you, then maybe we could talk other arrangements.’

  ‘What other arrangements?’ His blood was pumping like crazy at just the hint of what she might mean. She didn’t answer it though, as Isabelle pulled her away.

  A week? Absolutely not, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, last that long. He contemplated kidnapping her from her room, charging into his and convincing her to his way of thinking, but he needed her to come to him. That was still the plan, wasn’t it?

  He went to the library, but she didn’t arrive. He had not really expected her to, but had gone anyway. There was such foolishness in hoping for something that was, inevitably, doomed. And, so it seemed, was he.

  Chapter 13

  Sweat slicked his brow and dampened his chest as Robert woke from yet another nightmare. As his eyes focused on his surroundings, he realised he was still in his bedroom, far away from where his dream had taken place. He swore and fought his way out of his bedding. This had to stop; these dreams were going to send him to Bedlam. What did they mean? Why purple?

  Hastily, he pulled on a pair of pantaloons and headed out the door. He had to see Arabella and he knew exactly which room she slept in. He was aware of everything about her. Even the subtleties of her facial expressions. It set her apart in all ways from Isabelle.

  He stopped outside her door and for a moment debated the madness of his actions. A compulsion too strong made him turn the handle, ease it open, peek in. Then on an exhaled breath, he strode in.

  Darkness enveloped the room as he closed the door but a sliver of light fell across the floor from the waning moon outside. He had to speak to her so he took another step into the room.

  Two beds lay on each side of the room. Leaning down, he inspected first one and then the other. He smiled and hovered over Arabella’s sleeping visage. In slumber, her face was angelic and peaceful. Not so the rest of her. Dainty toes poked out the bottom of her bedclothes and her arms were flung out at her sides in a careless manner. The sight tempted him to pull the covers back and climb in beside her, feel her warm and soft in his arms.

  His nostrils filled with the faint scent of fresh linen and lavender. ‘Bella?’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Bella.’

  She murmured something unintelligible.

  ‘Why did my armour go rusty?’ Fatigue made his limbs feel like lead, his eyes burned from wanting to close.

  ‘What?’ Sleep laced her tone.

  He sat on the edge of her bed and watched as she awoke. He needed her. It was as simple and complex as that. He needed her warm body next to his, the tickle of her hair against his cheek, the weight of her hand on his bare chest. At this moment, he needed contact with her
more than air. ‘Why did you leave me behind, Bella?’

  She stirred. ‘Did I?’ She lifted her head, her brow wrinkled in confusion and then she opened her eyes. ‘Robert? Rob—’

  Covering her mouth, he said in an urgent whisper, ‘Shh. Don’t scream, It’s all right.’ He gave her a warning look and raised a brow, waited for her to nod before removing his hand.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, ‘You cannot be in here.’

  ‘I had a dream. I wanted to talk to you about it.’

  Robert watched as she blinked a few times as if trying to get her head around the idea that he was actually in her room in the middle of the night.

  ‘You had a dream? Robert, couldn’t this have waited until morning? Is this because I didn’t come to the library?’

  ‘Probably and no,’ he replied. He really wasn’t sure himself. ‘But these damn dreams are sending me mad.’ He peeked at her nightgown. ‘This is nice. Soft. Is it French?’ he asked, feeling the lace at her neck between his thumb and forefinger.

  She slapped his hand away and drew the covers up to her chin. ‘You need to go.’ Her tone was low and full of annoyance.

  ‘I have to know about the purple tights, which are not at all my colour, I’ll have you know.’

  She shook her head in confusion. ‘What are you talking about? Get out! Get out this instant!’

  Arabella pushed him in the chest, which was very ineffective as far as Robert was concerned. He smiled.

  ‘Oh, this is funny to you, is it? It won’t be so funny when my father storms in here demanding we are wed.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve been caught in worse positions than this and yet, I am still unwed.’

  He fell with a thump to the floor. She had pushed him off the bed with her feet. What the hell? Robert rose to a stand. If he wasn’t so damn tired he would have laughed at the ludicrousness of his situation. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’

  ‘You must go. Now!’ She pointed to the door.

  ‘All right, all right, but I just need to talk to you, to see you.’

  ‘We will discuss this in the morning. When you’re... dressed.’ She got out of bed and followed him to the door.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ he complained. ‘I haven’t since I met you.’ He wanted to get into bed, with her, rest his head on her breast and close his eyes until morning. Ah, what bliss it would be.

  ‘Well, you can’t sleep with me. I am not in the mood for games, Robert Mallory. It’s the middle of the night, for heaven’s sake. Are you out of your mind?’

  He contemplated her question for a moment. ‘Very close, I imagine.’

  ‘Desperation does not suit you. Go back to bed. Your bed.’

  ‘A kiss at least?’

  He must have looked as pathetic as he felt, for her eyes softened and she rose up on her toes and kissed him softly. The next he knew she had shoved him out into the hall. ‘Goodnight.’ And with that, she closed the door in his face.

  Not exactly as he had planned it, but at least he had gotten to speak to her for a few brief moments, felt her lips on his even if for only a fleeting second. She was right, though. Desperation did not suit him and he needed to keep his wits about him or he would end up married to her. A scenario that for some reason both repulsed and appealed.

  Lord, he was obviously in need of something strong to drink. He headed back to his room where he had a bottle of brandy stashed. It was clear there would be no more sleep for him this night either.

  ***

  ‘I really liked your nightgown,’ were the first words out of Shelton’s mouth to her the next morning. She kicked him under the table. ‘Ouch! I had not realised until now that you have a vicious streak,’ he said.

  So would he if he’d been robbed of sleep as she had, though she had to admit that he’d struck an impressive figure, standing as he had in only his pantaloons. He had muscles, lots of them, and hair on his chest. Good God! His image had filled her mind for the rest of the night.

  ‘Come into my room again and I will show you more than a mere streak,’ she warned.

  He hung his head. ‘I am sorry about last night. I don’t know what came over me. Sleep deprivation most likely.’ His tone was convincingly thoughtful.

  She watched him inspecting his breakfast. They were the first people in the breakfast room. Probably because everyone else had at least had a good night’s sleep and were, indeed, still enjoying said sleep.

  ‘I thought you must have been drunk.’ She poured honey onto her toast then sucked a small drop off the tip of her finger. She lifted her head and caught him staring at her finger in her mouth. Uncomfortable, she hid her hand under the table. His eyes returned to hers with a searing look, like he thought she had licked her finger on purpose.

  ‘I wasn’t drunk,’ he replied eventually. ‘Then at least I may have had an excuse that would have made last night make sense. Nothing makes sense when you are around me, it appears. You have turned my life into a farce worthy of a Shakespearean comedy.’

  Why she felt so pleased by his statement she didn’t know but she smiled just the same. ‘I would be careful were I you, Lord Shelton. Words like that could be interpreted as a growing affection towards me.’

  He frowned. ‘Affliction more like.’

  ‘Call it what you like, my lord.’ She was making fun of him, but she wasn’t enjoying it as much as she wanted to. He looked miserable and yes, a little tired. Was he really having trouble sleeping because of her?

  Robert was about to retort when Lady Shacklesbury and Amy walked into the room.

  After the morning greetings had been exchanged, Amy sat down next to her mother. ‘Why, Shelton, you’re up early.’

  ‘Yes, I thought I might go riding.’

  ‘You should take Arabella with you, show her the ruins and the little stream you and Quinn were always swimming about in a few summers back,’ Amy said.

  Lady Shacklesbury nodded. ‘What a good idea, Amy dear.’

  ‘I can’t. Mother is unwell.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve noticed. I’ve sent for my physician. He’s very good.’

  ‘I should stay with her.’

  ‘No, my dear. I will keep her company and Amy has kindly volunteered to show Isabelle around the house and gardens.’

  ‘It’s a tempting idea, but who would chaperone?’

  Robert gave Amy a don’t-go-there look.

  Lady Shacklesbury chuckled. ‘Oh, that is easily rectified. One of the grooms will follow you.’

  Robert turned towards her with a raised brow. ‘Do you like to ride, Miss Fleming?’

  She lifted her chin.

  He smiled, grinned. He was enjoying her discomfort. Blaggard!

  ‘Yes, Lord Shelton I do, but I should stay and help Lady Shacklesbury with Mother. I fear her medication is making her more ill than well these days.’

  ‘Nonsense, my girl. Your parents will be well taken care of.’ Lady Shacklesbury waved her further objections away. ‘Well? Off you go.’

  ***

  Robert watched as Arabella reluctantly stood and left to change into a riding habit.

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.’ He wagged his finger at both of the ladies sitting opposite him.

  ‘From what I’ve seen so far, you need all the help you can get,’ Amy smiled over the rim of her teacup.

  ‘Indeed, and to think he doesn’t even realise he is in love with the girl,’ Lady Shacklesbury added with a chuckle.

  ‘Don’t think for a moment your little schemes will work on me. So kindly stop interfering.’

  ‘Men. Why are they so stubborn?’ Amy asked her mother. ‘It took John over six months to build up the courage to tell me he couldn’t live without me.’

  Robert clenched his teeth.

  Quinn’s mother chose to ignore his unamused expression. ‘Miss Arabella is not like those other women you have cavorted with, but I think you already know that, don’t you?’

  ‘What possible evidence could
you have to support your theory, ladies?’

  ‘For one,’ Amy interjected raising one finger, ‘Isabelle says that Arabella doesn’t put up with any of your nonsense, and two,’ she held up another finger, ‘Quinn says that you have not been yourself since you met her.’

  ‘Quinn and Isabelle are so blinded by their own romance that they think the cat and the dog are in love,’ Robert growled.

  ‘Dear Robert.’ Amy rose out of her chair and came up behind him, ‘You need not fear it, you know. It’s the most wonderful thing. It makes you a whole person. It gives you a reason to rise in the morning with a smile on your face.’

  Oh Lord, save him. He didn’t need to be in love with Bella to have reason to rise in the morning. Just thinking about her did it to him about ten times a day.

  ‘Take Arabella to the stream. It is a very romantic spot.’ She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then resumed her seat.

  Robert stood, threw down his napkin on the table. ‘I’ve yet to meet two more interfering women. I will take her to the stream, but what happens then will be on your heads,’ he warned.

  ‘Shelton, you behave or I’ll have the constable and the clergyman after you.’ Lady Shacklesbury teased.

  He suspected that was exactly what they wanted. They wouldn’t get their wish.

  I will fight this.

  ***

  When they reached the stream, Robert slipped from the saddle and came over to lift Arabella to the ground. He tucked her arm into the crook of his as he guided her to a dappled spot near the water’s edge, not too sunny but protected from any cool winds.

  ‘Amy and Lady Shacklesbury gave me quite the lecture after you left this morning.’ He lay down his jacket for her to sit on and sat next to her.

  ‘Really? What about?’

  ‘You. Well, more like you and me.’ He picked up a twig and started to play with it.

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘That I was in love with you.’ He laughed. ‘I told them it was ridiculous.’

  ‘Ah, yes, because it’s a made-up word in your dictionary, is it not?’ She removed her bonnet and gloves and put them aside.