The Beloved Scoundrel

have no desire to be enchanting, only busy.”

“Do I detect a hint of displeasure?” Jordan asked.

“My workroom,” she said brusquely. “I need to see my workroom.”

“How remiss of me.” Jordan snapped his fingers. “You’ve been in my home for at least half an afternoon, and I haven’t given you what you value most.” He moved toward the door. “Permit me to rectify the error at once.” He said over his shoulder to Gregor, “I’ll see you at supper, Gregor.”

Gregor hesitated. “I could come along.”

Jordan slanted him a glance. “It’s quite safe. Her workroom lacks the piece of furniture necessary to the subject we were discussing.”

“I can remember many times in villages on the steppes that you didn’t find furniture necessary.”

Marianna impatiently looked from Gregor to Jordan. “I don’t care about this… this… furniture. I’ll tell you what I need later. I want to see my workroom.”

“How can I resist such eagerness?” Jordan strode out of the study. “Make sure Alex is settled, Gregor. I’ll take care of Marianna.”

“It is my earnest hope you will,” Gregor called after them.

Jordan had moved so quickly, Marianna found herself having to hurry after him across the foyer and up the wide stone staircase. “Where are we going?”

“I thought perhaps one of the tower rooms would be best. It’s isolated, and you receive light from all directions.” He had reached the second landing, opened a door, and led her up another twisting staircase. “I trust that will be satisfactory?”

“I’ll have to see it. I’ll need tools.”

“My agent tells me there are four craftsmen who are completing the windows at the cathedral at Medoran. I’ve sent a servant to purchase whatever instruments you might need from them. It’s only an hour’s ride from here, so he should be back by nightfall.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve done that already?”

“You said you needed it.”

“I’ll also need a kiln to bake in the colors and a blowpipe and kettle for making the glass.”

“You make the glass yourself?”

“Of course, every true craftsman has her own formula for the making of the glass. Different thicknesses and compositions take the color differently.”

“Forgive my ignorance. It will take a little longer to produce those particular items of your trade. Will tomorrow do?”

She nodded. “I can use other glass as long as the work has little importance.”

“I’m greatly relieved. I feared I’d have to post to Medoran in the dead of night myself.” He threw open the door and stepped aside. “I hope this will be adequate.”

Light!

The small circular chamber was without furniture, but that didn’t matter. Brilliant sunlight poured into the room from six long windows. Dear God, the light…

Marianna slowly moved to the center of the room, closing her eyes and lifting her face so that the glorious warmth struck her face. The cold knot that had begun to tighten within her since she had arrived at Cambaron began to dissolve. She was dazzled, entranced. “Oh yes,” she murmured, imagining the hues, the effulgence that would flood the room. “It’s splendid.”

“Splendid.”

His voice sounded so strange, she turned to see him staring at her.

“You look as if I’ve just given you a rope of diamonds,” he said thickly.

She shook her head. “Sunlight,” she said softly. “There’s nothing more beautiful on earth, and it cannot be given.”

“But I just gave it to you, didn’t I?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he walked toward her. “The sun shone all the way on our ride from Southwick, and you weren’t like this. Why is this different?”

“The windows. I can make this come alive.”

His eyes narrowed intently on her face. “As it’s made you come alive.”

She was alive. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins, and she felt more alive than ever before in her life. He was only a few feet away, and the strong sunlight surrounded him, stark, unforgiving. She could see the lines around his eyes, the tiny indentation in his chin, the curve of lip and jaw. His eyes were shimmering pale green, and there was something behind them… She stared up at him, caught, fascinated. She had a vague memory of planning on using him as a model for Lucifer in her Window to Heaven. Why had she thought he was the dark one? He wasn’t afraid of the light. He belonged to it. She had the sudden impulse to reach out and warm her hands against him as she had lifted her face to the sun.

He was going to touch her.

She held her breath. She couldn’t seem to move. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his face. She felt a tingling in her palms, in the soles of her feet, in the tips of her breasts.

He stepped back. “What else will you need?” he asked hoarsely.

He had let her go. She swallowed, and it was a moment before she could speak. “Candles. Many, many candles, a long, sturdy table, and an inkwell and several large sheets of paper.”

“I’ll have them brought up tomorrow morning.”

She shook her head. “Today. You said the tools would be here later this afternoon. I could start work this evening.”

He studied her face, and then a smile lit his face. “Today.” He moved toward the door. “I hope you won’t object to delaying your labors until after supper?”

She didn’t want to sit with him at a table, she thought desperately. She didn’t feel as if she could bear to be in the same room with him. “I’m not hungry.”

“But I’m sure Alex will be, and he’ll be more comfortable if you’re at the table. After all, this is his first night at Cambaron. You mustn’t disappoint Alex.”

She realized with relief that whatever she had seen in the fierce clarity of the sunlight had vanished, replaced by his usual mockery. She could deal better with this Jordan Draken who tried to manipulate the world to suit himself. “I’ll consider it.”

The chamber seemed darker after he had gone, as if the sun had hidden behind a cloud.

Imagination. It was still as bright as ever.

She was aware of a sweet, sickening fragrance in the room. It was the gown she wore. She could have sworn there was no lingering odor when she left her chamber, but it was suddenly back.

Imagination again, because for a moment she had felt as that woman had probably felt when she had been close to Jordan. Weak and womanly and… wanting.

She closed her eyes as a shiver ran through her.

Not wanting. That could not be true.

Imagination.

CHAPTER 5

An army of servants moved about the oak-paneled dining room, deftly serving a meal that would have fed Marianna’s family for a year.

Jordan sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, dressed in pale gray and white, an elegant figure against the muted richness of the ancient tapestry on the wall behind him.

He casually spoke to Gregor.

He patiently listened to Alex’s excited chattering.

He was fastidiously courteous to Marianna.

And every time he glanced at her, she could think of nothing but that moment in the tower room.