Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(56)

“Mrs. Plunkett sent along a cold supper. Chicken, bread, fruit—”

“Did Mrs. Plunkett know about this?”

Suddenly he wore an expression of pure innocence. “Know about what?”

“That I would be here with you!” Tasia regarded him with narrow-eyed suspicion. “She did! I can see it in your face. Everyone at Southgate Hall must have known I was going to be kidnapped today. And Emma? What have you told her?”

“She knows,” he admitted, having the grace to look sheepish.

It was not a pleasant feeling to be the victim of a conspiracy, no matter how well-intentioned. Tasia stiffened with stung pride and walked off without another word.

She was still fuming as she busied herself with unpacking the food and setting it on a table in the common room. Mrs. Plunkett had prepared a feast of roasted meats, salads, fruit and cheese, and a small cake filled with custard. The sun had begun to descend in the sky, casting pinkish-golden light through the half-shuttered windows. After washing and changing, Luke went to the downstairs vault and brought back two bottles of wine. Tasia ignored him and unwrapped a crusty loaf of bread from a linen napkin.

Seeming unperturbed by her silence, Luke sat in a chair and applied himself to opening the wine, holding it between his knees while he uncorked it. “Steadier this way,” he said, noticing Tasia's curious glance. “I could hold it in the crook of my arm—but I've lost a few good bottles that way.” He gave her an ingratiating, boyish smile that caused some of her reserve to melt.

“Who looks after the place and tends the garden?” she asked.

“A caretaker who lives over the hill.”

“Does anyone ever stay here?”

He shook his head. “It doesn't make sense to maintain a house that no one uses, but I've never been able to bring myself to close it. I like the idea of keeping a hideaway.”

“Have you brought other women here?”

“No.”

“Did you ever bring her?” This time Tasia's voice was soft. They both knew she was referring to Mary.

Luke was silent for a long moment, then gave a short nod.

Tasia wasn't certain how she felt about that…flattered, perhaps, and uneasy. She was beginning to understand that she meant something to him, something important, and the knowledge was disturbing on a deep level.

“I'm sorry I deceived you.” Luke aimed for a casual tone but didn't quite reach it. “I didn't know how else to get you here.”

Tasia found a long wax taper in the drawer of a worn sideboard. She lit it from a wall sconce and then moved about the room, lighting candles until the air was golden. “You could have tried inviting me.”

“Would you have accepted?”

“I don't know. I suppose it would have depended on how you asked.” She pursed her lips and delicately blew out the taper, and looked at him through a veil of smoke.

Slowly Luke stood up and came to her. His eyes were filled with seduction, his smile an invitation to wickedness. “Miss Billings…I beg you not to leave. There's a place I'd like to take you to. A cottage hidden deep in the woods. We could stay there, just the two of us, and shut out the rest of the world for as long as you want…a day, a month…forever.”

“And what would we do there, just the two of us?”

“Sleep by day, and wake when the stars come out. Drink wine…share secrets…dance in the moonlight…”

“With no music?”

He bent to her ear with a confidential whisper. “There's music in the forest. But most people never hear it. They don't know how to listen.”

Tasia closed her eyes briefly. He carried a tantalizing mixture of smells, soap and water, damp hair, a touch of starched linen. “Are you offering to teach me?” she asked faintly.

“Actually, I was hoping you would teach me.”

She drew back, staring into his eyes. Suddenly they laughed together, for no reason Tasia could fathom, except that all at once the moment was filled with delight.

“I'll consider it,” she said, moving to a chair, and he seated her obligingly.

“Wine?”

Tasia nudged her empty glass forward in reply. He joined her at the table and poured the wine, and they raised a silent toast. The pale golden vintage was mellow and slightly sweet. Tasia nodded in answer to Luke's questioning glance, and lifted the glass to her lips again. Her drinking had always been limited to a few sips of wine here and there, always supervised by her mother and various chaperones. She relished the freedom of being able to have as much as she wanted.

They consumed the meal at a leisurely pace, while the sky darkened outside and shadows crept into the corners of the cottage. Luke devoted himself to being charming. He watched with amusement as she kept holding out the wineglass for more, and warned that she would have a headache in the morning.

“I don't care,” Tasia replied, downing more of the delicious beverage. “It's the best wine I've ever tasted.”

Luke laughed. “And it gets better with every glass. Sip it slowly, sweet. Being a gentleman, I won't be able to take advantage of you if you're drunk.”

“Why not? Drunk or sober, the results are the same, aren't they?” She tilted her head back, letting the sweet liquid slide down her throat. “Besides, you're not that much of a gentleman.”