She inclined her head politely. The butler nodded the guards’ dismissal and led on. Kate followed, still in a heightened state of vigilance.
They bypassed the empty soaring cavern of the great hall and proceeded down a moody Gothic hallway. There were several doors to other chambers along the corridor, but most were closed, probably to keep the scant heat in the drafty castle where it was needed.
Eldred sailed ahead of her into a large, red-walled chamber, which turned out to be the dining hall. Once over the threshold, the butler stepped aside to announce her arrival to the room’s solitary occupant, but even before he spoke, her gaze homed in on the magnificent man seated alone by the fireplace.
Rohan was staring into the flames and savoring a brandy. The sensual way he cupped the rounded snifter in his palm caused a completely unexpected shudder of wild longing to run the length of her entire body, for his tender hold on that globelike glass brought back hazy memories of his attentions last night to her breasts.
And when he raised the glass to his lips and took a slow, leisurely sip, Kate had to close her eyes for a moment to steady herself.
Dear God.
His butler announced her in a formal tone. “Your Grace: Miss Madsen.”
Kate flicked her eyes open, but her cheeks were already burning when the duke looked over.
He cast her a dangerous smile, and a giddy weakness crept up her body, starting at her knees. She tightened them reflexively and gave her quivering legs the silent order to move, and by all means, to forget the feel of his forbidden caresses running up her thighs.
As he rose smoothly from his leather wing chair, Kate marched into the dining room with her head held high. She tried with all her might to hide her discomfiture. It would have been mortifying in the extreme if he sensed the lustful confusion that he caused in her.
Dangerous, too, for no doubt he would interpret it as an invitation. Which it was not. At least she did not
think
it was …
She swallowed hard as he moved toward her, elegantly attired in black trousers and a dark plum tailcoat. His shirt was white, his black neckcloth secured with a gleaming pearl cravat pin. His long raven hair was pulled back into a sleek queue, and his eyes glowed with an appreciative smolder as she joined him by the fireplace.
“Miss Madsen,” he welcomed her in a deep purr while his gaze trailed over her. “You look lovely.”
“Ahem. Thank you.”
“I trust your room was comfortable.”
“Yes. Very.” Her heart was pounding in the most disturbing fashion.
He studied her. “Did you get to rest?”
“I did. Yes. Thanks,” she answered, suspicious of the solicitude in his gaze.
He suddenly frowned. “Your eyes are red.”
“No, they’re not—er, are they?” With a blanch, she ducked her head, chagrined that he had detected her earlier bout as a watering pot. “I-I suppose nearly dying today shook me up a bit more than I realized,” she mumbled.
“Ah. Well. That is understandable,” he said with a smile in his deep voice. “But all that is behind you now.”
Kate jumped when he collected her hand from her side as though it were some delicate flower and placed a careful kiss on her knuckles.
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
Before he released her hand from his light grasp, she thought to steal a quick glance down at his knuckles, scanning them for any telltale signs of how badly he might have thrashed Peter Doyle.
There was no mark on them. Relief eased her tension by a small degree.
“Now then,” he said, giving her back her hand, “having cheated death successfully today, tonight, you and I are going to celebrate life.”
Oh, dear.
“Are we?” she echoed faintly.
“Yes.” He nodded with firm expertise. “I always do that after facing death. There’s a certain pleasure in it, I find. Reminds you what it means to be alive. Drink? You look like you could use it.” He was already brushing past her, heading for the liquor cabinet.
She turned, watching him in guarded fascination. “You … do this often?”
“Celebrate? God, yes.” He flashed a wicked smile.
“I meant—face death.”
He merely laughed. “What do you say to a brandy?”
“Um, I don’t drink strong spirits.” She had good reason to keep her head about her tonight, as well.
“A glass of wine, then?”
“Why not,” she conceded with a reluctant shrug.
“Excellent.” Ignoring her question, he tossed himself a crystal goblet from the lower shelf with an easy motion and reached into the ice bucket, where an open bottle nestled. “But I must warn you, prepare to be dazzled.”
She feared she already was.
“This is my favorite wine, and I don’t usually share it.” His roguish little smile nigh entranced her.
“I am honored,” Kate said faintly, watching him with cautious but growing delight.
Locked in that cellar for so long, scared for her life, no one had been this nice to her in ages.
“Here you are. An exquisite white burgundy, straight from the bosom of France.” He inhaled its bouquet as he came back and presented her with the glass. “Indulge.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She accepted the drink with great curiosity, unsure if he was flirting with her or simply trying to put her at ease. Smiling, he watched her raise the glass to her lips—but then she suddenly stopped.
A dart of fear shot through her as she remembered the drugged wine the smugglers had given her last night, which had rendered her so helpless.
Rohan waited expectantly. “Go on, try it.”
Kate floundered, trying to hide her distress. She made a show of inhaling the wine’s bouquet, buying time as she tried to detect any hint of laudanum he might have poured in it.
He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
She suddenly recalled her hesitation before the stairs leading down to the dungeon. He hadn’t worked any treachery on her then; he had only brought her down there to help her seek justice. Realizing she was being irrational, she laughed rather awkwardly at herself and found the courage at last to take her first exploratory sip.
Slowly, the wine rewarded her with its complex, subtle flavors … apricot, pear, a hint of vanilla … and some indescribable flavor that made her think of sun-drenched, flowery meadows.
“It’s wonderful,” she murmured at length, lifting her gaze to his. She felt chastened for her mistrust. “It’s as if they’ve bottled summer.”
“Yes. That’s very apt.” His smile broadened as he held her gaze deeply. “And a welcome change it is from all this ice and snow.”
Kate could not look away, even as she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Surely, one swallow of wine could not have gone so quickly to her head, but all his attention focused on her had a similarly intoxicating effect.
Heavens, it was an overwhelming feeling, having a virile, darkly handsome, six-and-a-half-foot duke apparently engrossed in one’s every movement. He gazed at her lips, and for a fleeting instant, Kate held her breath, certain he was going to lean down and kiss her.
If the thought had crossed his mind, however, he refrained, dropping his gaze and pulling back a bit.
He turned away. “Our meal will be arriving any moment. Shall we?” He swept a polite gesture toward the table.
“Uh, yes, of course.” Blinking away her bedazzlement, she paused and turned to him. “But Your Grace—there is something I must say to you first.”
“Oh?” He turned to her with a keen look. “What is it?”
Kate stared at him. “Thank you. For saving my life. I’m sorry, I should have said it earlier, but with all that was happening—”
“You’re welcome.”
“I mean it.” She took an earnest step toward him. “I can’t believe you risked yourself like that for me. You barely even know me!”
“I’m just glad I got to you in time,” he answered softly.
“Well—I want you to know I will never forget what you did for me. We both know that I am in your debt.”
“Careful, Kate. Don’t give a man ideas. Come,” he ordered with a rakish half smile. “I’ll show you to your seat.”
Rather routed, Kate dropped her gaze but went along obediently. His hand came to rest on the small of her back as he escorted her over to the long, formally laid table. His light touch was unmistakably possessive. She was intensely aware of him as he led her over to her chair and pulled it out for her; she flicked her lashes downward and lowered herself to her seat.
When he pushed her chair in for her, the fleeting brush of his fingers against her bared shoulders made her throb. He slowly walked around the table with a subtle swagger in his movements and sat down across from her.
In the next moment, she could feel him watching her, but she refused to look at him—could not bring herself to chance another gaze into his eyes. Her courage had fled from the potent temptation in his touch. She kept her gaze down stubbornly, silently trying to talk herself out of this feverish attraction.
This was madness! She was not about to make a fool of herself over the man to whom she had been given as a gift. That would have been humiliating in the extreme. He was a libertine who used women as bed warmers and consorted with criminals—a duke, moreover, too highborn to give a fig about wrecking the life of an ordinary girl.
He was dangerous.
Determined to avoid temptation, she occupied herself with studying the china arrayed before her instead, dishes painted with his family crest and edged in gilt. Likewise, a flowery ‘W’ was engraved at the tip of the handle of each piece of silver. Between them, an artistic arrangement of apples and pears in a crystal bowl adorned the table, their sleek red and golden skins burnished by the candles’ glow.
The silence stretched, and still he watched her, as though waiting to see what she would do with it, like a scientist carrying out some type of experiment.
She took a deep breath and lifted her head at last with a pointed look. “You are staring at me.”
“Your beauty gives me pleasure,” he replied.
She drew back with a worried frown.
“Kate, try to relax—”
“How can I when you say that sort of thing?” she cried.
“Would you rather I lie?”
“Well—no.” She shifted unhappily in her seat.
“Good. Because I’d much prefer that we be honest with each other.”
“As would I! Perhaps you would answer a question for me, in fact.”
He shrugged. “Fire at will.”
She eyed him guardedly while he watched her with the amused interest of a man familiarizing himself with the workings of some new toy.
“Why were there guards posted by my door?”
“To keep me out, of course.”
She did not smile at his quip. “You said we were being honest.”
“They’re there to protect you, Kate. I assumed after all you’ve been through, having some protection on hand would have made you feel more secure.”
“Ah.” She doubted it.
He studied her. “I hope they did not bother you at all?”
“No, they did not bother me at all. It’s just, seeing two armed men outside my chamber door … I couldn’t help wondering if I am some sort of prisoner here?”
“If you were a prisoner, why would I have you for dinner?”
Her brittle smile faded at the wicked way he had worded the question. He was already looking at her like he meant to have her for dessert.
He let out a worldly sigh, noting how she had paled. “Dear, oh, dear, Miss Madsen. Next you’ll be worried the food is drugged.”
“Is it?” she whispered, her gaze locked on his face.
“Of course not.” His expression sobered. He leaned closer as his stare intensified. “I want you to trust me, Kate.”
“Very well. If I’m not a prisoner, then tell me when I can go home.”
“Hm.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with shrewd speculation. She held his hooded gaze in challenge. He drummed his fingers briefly on the chair arm. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Kate.”
I knew it!
Her blood ran cold. “Why not?”
“O’Banyon is still out there,” he replied in an oh-so-reasonable tone. “If I send you home now, there’s nothing to stop him from simply coming back and capturing you again.”
“Is that what Peter Doyle said?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Like what? What else did he say? Tell me—please! I deserve to know!”
He looked at her for a long moment, then chose his words with care. “O’Banyon is going to contact the Doyle boys with their next instructions. He thinks they still have you. Now, I’ve ordered Caleb to bring me O’Banyon’s letter as soon as it arrives. O’Banyon is to write to Pete and Denny to tell them where they are to bring you. This will reveal O’Banyon’s location. Once I know where he is, believe me, I will deal with him personally.”
Kate stared at him in wonder.
“In the meanwhile,” he added darkly, “I think it’s best that you stay here. Where you’ll be safe.”
She paled. “Here … with you?”
He raised an eyebrow at her stricken look. “I’ll do my best not to be disagreeable company.”
“No, of course, Your Grace. It not that. It’s just—I was so looking forward to going home.”
“Well, you can’t yet. It’s not safe.”
“I would not want to impose.”
“I promised you justice, Kate. Besides, it’s not just for you.” He sat back again and picked up his wineglass. “I am these people’s lord, and they have committed a very serious crime. Looking after you has now become my responsibility.” He paused. “My duty.”
“I see.” She stared down at her empty plate, hoping that his talk of duty might make it less likely that he would opt to pass the time by subjecting her to some casual seduction. “Do you—have any idea how long this might take?” she ventured, peering warily at him from beneath her lashes.
He shook his head. “There is no way to know.” She thought she detected a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I realize this is a great inconvenience, Miss Madsen, but my staff and I will do all in our power to ensure that your stay here is not too terribly unpleasant for you.”