“Beg pardon?” Distracted by the sensation of his hands on her, she took a moment to grasp his meaning. “Goodness, of course not! Is that what you want?”
“It’s the last thing I want,” he said, then met her lips with his and proved it. She melted into his sleep-warmed body.
Her lids were drifting closed when she glimpsed the light guttering and quickly reached to steady the candle. A moment more and he would have dropped it, possibly burning down his brand new house. She smiled against his lips, pleased that she could make him lose his head the same way he did hers.
“Maybe we should go to your bedroom.”
“Beg pardon?” His eyes got so wide, the whites were visible all the way around.
“No, not for that.” She giggled. “Just to talk. It’s the only place we can sit down, remember?”
“Ah. Indeed.” He cleared his throat, and Lily choked back more giggles. “Well, then…shall we?” He raised the candle and motioned her toward the stairs.
They went up side by side, Rand holding the candle low to light her path. “I cannot believe you’re here,” he said, shaking his head. “Who ever thought sweet, saintly Lily Ashcroft would dare sneak out for a midnight rendezvous?”
“Is that how you see me—saintly?” They reached the top of the stairs and turned down a corridor. “Of late, I’ve acted anything but saintly.”
“Lily,” he began in a troubled tone.
“No, it’s a good thing. I think. I cannot be the nice girl all the time. At least that’s what Judith says.”
“Judith sounds like a good friend.” Rand had left his bedroom door open, and he ushered her in before following and closing the door.
It was brighter and cozier in here, with a cheerful fire in the hearth. Like the rest of the house, the chamber smelled of new wood and paint. Rand lit a branch of tapers near the four-poster bed, then set his candle on the desk. Lily’s eyes glanced off the bed with its disarrayed green counterpane, and she was grateful to see Rand setting the desk chair before the hearth and gesturing for her to sit.
As she settled herself, he warmed his hands at the fire, then leaned against the mantle. “So what would you like to talk about?”
She began without preamble. “I’m coming with you to Hawkridge.”
He sucked in his breath, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then hesitated. Finally, “Has your mother volunteered to chaperone us?”
“No,” Lily admitted. “She might have done, but now she won’t leave poor Rowan. But I don’t care. I’m going with you anyway. This journey is far more important than my reputation.”
He belted his dressing gown tighter around his waist. “I’m not sure your mother would agree.”
“She certainly would not—thus I prefer not to give her a choice in the matter. If we leave tonight, we’ll be at Hawkridge before my family realizes I’m gone. By the time they catch up to me, we’ll have already met your father, and they may drag me back to Trentingham in chains if they like.”
“I don’t know if this business can be concluded in a single meeting.”
“Then I’ll figure out something later. Please, let’s just get there. We’ve only a few hours until sunrise.”
Rand’s hand jerked, as if he’d meant to swipe at his hair and then remembered most of it was gone. “You’ll add running away from your family to your list of un-saintly acts?”
Lily didn’t flinch. Right and wrong weren’t always clear, but in this case she had no doubts. She’d pledged herself to Rand, and he to her, and now they would face life’s challenges together. “I’ll do it for you,” she said simply. “For us.”
His expression softened—a bit. “I can handle the marquess on my own. Truly, I’ll be fine. I won’t pretend I’m not dreading it, or that I won’t miss you. But I’ll not have you subjected to that awful place.”
“Why?”
He frowned, looking into the fire. “Why…what?”
She could tell he was faking, was trying to avoid the question. “Why is Hawkridge so awful? Why do you hate your father and brother?” She chewed her lower lip, knowing these answers would be hard for him, but also knowing she needed to hear them. “What did they do to you, Rand?”
He stared into the fire for a long time.
“Rand?”
He still didn’t look at her, but he did begin to speak. “It’s hard to explain. They didn’t…hurt me exactly. Well, my father beat me when he thought I misbehaved, but no worse than any child receives from his parents.”
Lily privately disagreed, but she knew her family was unusual in that respect. She didn’t interrupt.
“Most of my punishments were due to Alban, though. He transgressed and the blame fell on me. I could never convince my father that Alban was the guilty party. He was the exalted heir, the one who could do no wrong. And I was just…” His voice trailed off.
“Just what?” Lily asked gently.
Rand shook his head. “I don’t know. The marquess hates me, but I’ve never known why.”
“I’m sure your father doesn’t hate you—”
“Oh, yes, he does. I’ve always been able to see it on his face.” Rand’s voice sounded hollow, and Lily judged it best not to dwell on the point.
Just then, Beatrix vaulted onto her lap. Lily let out a yelp, having forgotten the animals’ presence, but she was soon comforted by the cat’s warm, vibrating body. Stroking her soft fur, she looked back to Rand. “And what of Alban? Did he seem to hate you, too?”
“Not particularly. At least, not more than he hated most people. He was just evil.”
Lily’s hand paused mid-stroke. “Evil?” Though she was careful not to betray any skepticism in her voice, the assertion sounded far-fetched to her. Surely few people in the world were truly evil. “Are you certain his intentions were evil? Perhaps the two of you were simply at odds, and he behaved selfishly, as most children do—”
“No, Lily, he was evil. He did things to people—and animals, too. He
