Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(13)

“Coming from you, that was an unexpected show of mercy,” Mira remarked thoughtfully.

“From the way you look at me, it’s obvious that your sympathies lie with the fox,” he said, his mouth quirking with amusement. She nodded silently. “No books today?” he asked. .

“No.”

“No strange roots or little flowers?”

Mira chuckled at his teasing. “No. I’m fully stocked with everything I might need.”

“Where did you learn about such things?”

“I’ve always been interested in how to cure sickness,” she replied, a smile tugging at her soft mouth. “When I was in France, traveling from place to place, I committed many bits of knowledge of natural medicine to memory.” She paused and her eyes twinkled as she added, “I have an excellent memory. I rarely forget anything that I’ve seen or that’s been said to me.”

“Then somewhere in the realm of such a remarkable mind,” Alec said, ignoring her last sentence, “is information about where you come from. Pray tell, where is home to you, aside from Sackville Manor?’’

Even as he asked the question, he knew that she would not answer it.

“Home is everywhere,” Mira said softly, the lost, burning expression in her eyes giving Alec an odd sensation. “I come from nowhere. I belong to no one.” Her expression was sincere and mischievous all at once, as if she took a particular delight in avoiding his questions with such nonsense. He was exasperated by her vagueness; he wanted to know about her, he needed to know who she was, and he had no idea of how to force the answers out of her.

“You belong to whoever pays your price,” Alec replied coldly.

“Do I?” she asked, unperturbed by his growing temper. “Do I belong to Sackville?”

“I suppose that depends on your own sense of loyalty.”

“I have a very strong sense of loyalty… so I suppose I do belong to him. Ah, you are frowning… but isn’t that the answer you wanted? Surely you can appreciate it, since loyalty is something you’re quite familiar with. You are so loyal to the rules of hunting that you wouldn’t dig up a fox, no matter how much the hounds and your companions long for blood… you are so loyal to a friend that you would not try to take his woman away from him… though I think you might want her for yourself.”

Alec’s mouth hardened into a straight line, his eyes flaring with silver light.

“I don’t want you,” he muttered. “Though I might enjoy turning you over my knee and spanking the disrespectful hell out of you, you little imp of Satan.”

“What’s stopping you?” she asked gently.

It was a contest to see who would lose control first. Alec muttered something under his breath. He looked into her face and she smiled engagingly at him, with the expression of a child who had lit a Roman candle and was waiting for the explosion. Suddenly he grinned

folding his arms across his broad chest, his anger fading away.

“It amazes me,” he said, “that you haven’t given Sackville apoplexy yet.”

“Lord Sackville finds my conversation very soothing.”

“Then I’ve underestimated him unforgivably.”

Mira laughed helplessly, hiding her face against her knees, and the sound of Alec’s soft chuckle fell on her ears with delicious lightness.

“I think I’ve underestimated you, my lord,” she said, her voice muffled, and then she lifted her head to stare at him with a bright, penetrating gaze.

“How so?”

“Until now I thought you were merely a pompous, judgmental boor.”

“And now?” he asked.

“You are not pompous. And you are not a boor.”

He was adept at concealing his emotions; she could read nothing in his expression. As the silence ripened Mira wondered if she had dared to tread too far. Perhaps he had become angry with her. His temper was unpredictable and quick-flashing… she sensed that he was not used to someone purposely trying his patience.

“But you think I’m judgmental?” he finally inquired.

“Aren’t you?” she countered. “You like to form your opinions very quickly—and once you have, you don’t like to change them.” He was the kind of man, she was certain, who would defend those he loved without hesitation… and would fight his enemies until there was no breath left in his body. “It’s a dangerous fault, I think… since you may someday risk losing something very important—just because it doesn’t fit into your scheme of things.”

“Why do you say that?” he whispered, looking so wary and angry that Mira knew she had hit a vulnerable spot. She backed down immediately, her voice faltering.

“I… I don’t know. I… just thought…”

“Someone once said almost those exact words to me.”

“Who?”

“My cousin.”

“The one who… who died in a duel?” Mira asked timidly.

He pinned her with a splintered-crystal stare, something so raw in his gaze that she wished she had kept her mouth shut.

“It was not a duel. I found him in an alley, beaten to death.” Alec closed his eyes, unable to repress the memory from filling his mind with darkness—Holt, nearly the mirror image of him, the same black hair and well-defined Falkner features. Since boyhood they had pulled each other out of scrapes and trusted each other more than they had trusted their own brothers. Holt had been more likable than Alec, less sarcastic in speech, more carefree, more tender with people. He was the only one who could make Alec laugh right in the middle of an awe-inspiring storm of rage… yes, that had been Holt’s talent—seeing the ironies of life and the weakness of human nature, and caring for people in spite of their faults. He and Alec would have died for each other, their bond fast and deep because they were Falkners and because they understood each other.