Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

"Don't you worry, my lord, we'll be just fine," Gertrude said, gently helping Katie to stand. "I'll watch over the young lady."

Barkley stood at attention in the doorway. The butler had clearly been warned about Katie's aversion to strange men, for he made no attempt to assist her, rather just led Gertrude and Katie from the room.

Standing next to the fireplace, Carolyn watched Lord Surbrooke close the door after them. The soft click reverberated in the quiet room. For several seconds he remained facing the door, his head bowed, as if by some weight too heavy to bear. Then he turned and their gazes met. All the unexpected things Katie had told her rushed through Carolyn's mind, and she felt as if she were seeing him for the first time.

He dragged his hands down his face and offered her a ghost of a smile. "Quite an eventful evening."

"Yes…"

Her reply trailed off as he walked slowly toward her, halting when an arm's length separated them. Her body seemed to strain toward him and she braced her knees to keep from stepping forward to erase that slice of space that simultaneously felt like too much and not nearly enough of a distance. She was about to curl her fingers inward so as not to reach out and brush back the errant lock of hair spilling onto his forehead, when he lightly clasped her hands.

Warmth engulfed her fingers. The sensation of his bare hands on hers rippled tingles of pleasure through her. "Thank you," he said, his serious blue eyes steady on hers. "It was very kind of you to help."

"It was my pleasure to do so. That poor girl. She's very fortunate her injuries weren't more severe." Her gaze searched his. "Are you going to take her on as a maid?"

"Yes."

"Do you need another maid?"

He shrugged. "A house this size can always use more help."

His nonchalance proved to her what she'd suspected-that he didn't need another maid at all. Yet he was willing to give an unfortunate young woman a job. Something inside her seemed to shift, but before she could define the sensation, he gently squeezed her hands then released them. She immediately missed the warmth of his skin pressed against hers.

"Would you like to go home?" he asked.

Her common sense told her to leave, that she'd done what she could to help and it was therefore time to go. But her mind buzzed with curiosity, dozens of questions about him she wanted answered. She'd clearly misjudged at least certain aspects of his character. What else had she been wrong about? There was only way to find out. And she very much wanted to know.

"I'll stay with Gertrude, until your maid and cook arrive," she said.

She couldn't tell by his expression if he was pleased or not. Indeed, a curtain seemed to have fallen over his features. "Can I interest you in a drink?" he asked, walking toward a mahogany end table upon which rested a trio of crystal decanters. "I'm afraid I cannot offer you tea until Cook arrives, but I have brandy, port, or sherry, if you'd like."

More to have something to do with her fidgety hands than because she desired a beverage, she said, "Sherry, please."

After pouring the drinks, he rejoined her and lifted his snifter. "Here's to… neighbors. And friendship. You have my gratitude for answering my call for help, especially at such an ungodly hour."

She touched the rim of her glass to his, and the ring of crystal echoed through the room. "'Twas no hardship. I hadn't yet retired."

His gaze skimmed over the aqua gown she'd worn to the Gatesbourne soiree. "So I see. Shall we sit?"

The prospect of sitting with him on the cozy sofa in this cozy room felt far too… cozy. And much too tempting. "Actually, I'm feeling…" Far too drawn to you. "… rather restless." True, although the reason had nothing to do with applying salve and bandages, and everything to do with him.

"Restless. Yes, a feeling I share." He hesitated for several seconds, then suggested, "A walk through the conservatory, then?"

That sounded safe enough.

Certainly safer than the quiet, fire-lit intimacy of the drawing room.

After all, what could possibly happen in a room filled with plants?

She offered him a smile. "A walk through the conservatory sounds lovely."

Daniel tossed back his brandy in a single swallow and inwardly grimaced at the fire burning down his throat to his stomach. The last bloody thing he needed was anything else to make him more heated. The mere sight of Carolyn, here, in his drawing room, sipping his sherry, was more than enough to make him feel as if he'd stepped into a roaring hearth.

He watched her delicately sip her sherry. How did she manage to look so beautiful even when doing something as mundane as drinking? His hungry gaze moved lower, drawn to the swell of her generous breasts, which her gown hinted at, then over the flattering aqua garment that perfectly complimented her creamy skin and blue eyes. He'd be hard pressed to name another woman who would have immediately-and personally-answered his call for assistance, not even pausing to change out of her finery. And was willing to act as nurse to a stranger, and actually possessed the skills to do so. Aspects of her besides her beauty to admire. And it suddenly hit him that he didn't require any others. That in fact he quite admired her more than enough already.

He felt the weight of her regard and looked up. And discovered her staring at the vee opening in his shirt. With an expression that indicated she liked what she saw. His shoulders tensed and he tightened his hold on his empty snifter to keep from yanking her into his arms and kissing her until she admitted that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She glanced up and their gazes collided. The crimson that rushed into her cheeks made it plain she was aware she'd been caught staring. She took a hasty sip of sherry then set down her glass on the mahogany side table.

After he did the same, they quit the room and headed down the dimly lit corridor leading to the conservatory. From the corner of his eye he noted her twisting her fingers together, a good indication she felt the same awareness, the same thick tension, as he did. A promising sign, as far as he was concerned.

"You're remarkably adept at cleaning and bandaging cuts," he remarked, wading into the silence.

"Sarah was quite the hoyden as a child," she said, her lips curving upward in obvious affectionate remembrance. "I spent many hours doctoring her many scrapes and cuts. And a few of my own."

"You're not the least bit squeamish?"

"No. If I'd been born a boy I would have followed in my father's footsteps and become a physician."

His brows shot up in surprise. He'd never heard an aristocratic woman say such a thing-that she aspired to a profession. But of course, Carolyn wasn't born into the peerage. "You said Sarah was a hoyden. How did you come about your scrapes and cuts?"

A smile tugged at her lips. "I have a confession to make."

Interest flared within him. "Oh? Pray don't keep me in suspense. But I find it only fair to remind you-confessions at midnight can be a dangerous thing."

"Then how fortunate for me it's well past midnight." Mischief danced in her eyes, and leaning closer, she confided with a conspiratorial air, "I used to… climb trees."

He wasn't sure if he was more surprised, intrigued, or amused. "Never say so."

"I'm afraid it's true. And balance on fallen tree stumps. And jump along the rocks that protruded around the pond near our home. Fell in the water more than once."

A memory attempted to crawl up from where it resided in the depths of his soul and he quickly slammed shut the dungeon door to keep it from seeing the light of day. "I'm quite certain you're telling me a Bunbury tale, my lady. You're not capable of such shocking behavior."

"I assure you it's true. My mother always insisted my behavior be flawless, yet she put no such restrictions on Sarah."

"Why is that?"

She hesitated, clearly considering whether to tell him. Finally she said, "Much to my consternation, I was always Mother's favorite. She considered Sarah hopelessly plain and paid little attention to her, pinning all her hopes-actually, expectations-on me to marry well. Her favoritism hurt Sarah deeply, and me as well, as I adored Sarah from the day she was born. I escaped Mother's stifling clutches every chance I could, and when I did, I joined Sarah in tree climbing and rock jumping, or whatever grand adventure she was undertaking. Mother would have flown into the boughs had she known, so to cover up those occasions when I'd slip and fall, I learned how to treat my own injuries. And Sarah's as well." She flashed a smile. "Since Father was a physician, it wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. Or to pilfer bandages."

They'd reached the glass doors leading to the conservatory and he paused. "I must admit I'm taken unawares at this unexpected side of you, my lady."

"I assure you it's true. In fact, I sport a scar on my ankle-a souvenir of one of my less successful tree climbing adventures. I consider it a badge of honor."

He grasped the curved brass knob and opened the door. The air around them was instantly inundated with a floral fragrance layered with hints of freshly turned soil. A silvery beam of moonlight fell upon the stone floor, shimmering down from the glass panels set in the high ceiling. He glanced up and noted a glimpse of a pearly moon set in a black, velvety sky strewn with diamondlike stars.