Maddock had not got around to redecorating the other bedrooms.
He put aside his glass with the precious ice—it had been no more than a pretext to see Ellery Dunant again—and pulled the covers down from the bed. A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes and Larenz felt the icy draught. He grimaced again. What on earth was Ellery Dunant doing in a place like this? Clearly her family had fallen on hard times, but Larenz couldn’t fathom why she didn’t sell up and move somewhere more congenial. She was young, pretty and obviously talented to some degree. Why was she wasting away in the far reaches of Suffolk taking care of a house that looked about to collapse around her ears?
Shrugging the thought aside, Larenz began to undress. He normally slept in just his boxers but it was so damned cold in this place he decided to leave his shirt and socks on, making him look, he suspected, rather ridiculous.
He doubted Ellery Dunant’s room was properly heated. He pictured her in a white cotton nightdress, the kind that buttoned right up to her neck, a pair of fuzzy slippers on her feet, clutching a hot-water bottle. The image made his lips twitch in amusement until he found his mind leaping ahead to the moment when he unbuttoned that starchy nightgown and discovered the delectable woman underneath.
She’d been affected by him; there could be no denying that. Larenz recalled the way her skin had felt, as soft as silk and faintly cool. Her fingernails, he’d noticed, had been bitten to the quick. She was undoubtedly worried about finances; why else would she be renting out this decrepit place?
He knew just how to take her mind off such matters.
He stretched out in bed, wincing at the icy sheets. Again, he found himself imagining Ellery there with him, warming the sheets, warming him.
And he could warm her…He would take great pleasure in thawing the ice princess, Larenz thought, folding his hands behind his head. Sleep seemed a long way off. From outside he heard a telltale creak of the floorboards and hoped it wasn’t Amelie making a last-ditch effort. Surely she had more pride than that; their working relationship was too important to throw away on an ill-conceived fling.
His mind roved back to Ellery. He wondered whether she was pining away for some prince while she waited in her lonely manor. Was she hoping for some would-be knight to rescue her? Well, he was no knight or prince, not in the least. He was a bastard through and through and there was surely no way Lady Maddock would consider him as husband material for a second, which suited him fine.
But as a lover…? Larenz smiled and settled more deeply into the bed.
Then he heard the floorboard creak again, past his room, and the sound of a door closing somewhere at the other end of the hall. It must have been Ellery, on her way to bed.
Larenz stretched out, trying to make himself more comfortable despite the rather lumpy mattress and the coldness of the room. Had Ellery walked past his room on purpose? Was she curious? Longing?
He hoped so, because he had just decided that she most definitely needed to be seduced.
Chapter Two
ELLERY woke early, determined to fill the day with chores and errands. If she kept herself busy and productive, she’d have less time to think. Imagine.
It had been imagining that had kept her up last night, restless with a nameless longing that had suddenly risen up inside her, a tide of need. She’d replayed the moments with Larenz, the feel of his fingers on her skin, over and over again, hating herself for doing so. Hating him.
She needed to focus, she told herself as she tied an apron around her waist and reached for a dozen eggs from inside the fridge. Focus on getting work done now and then having a weekend away, as she’d promised Lil. She tried to imagine herself in London at some random club or bar, having fun, but the image remained both blurry and vaguely depressing.
‘It would be fun,’ Ellery insisted in a mutter as she cracked six eggs into a heavy china mixing bowl and began to whip them into a foamy froth. ‘We’d talk and laugh and dance—’ And Lil would try to convince her—again—to come back to London.
When Ellery had told her friend she was returning home in an attempt to make Maddock Manor a success, Lil had looked at her as if she’d gone completely mad.
‘Why on earth would you want to go back there?’
Ellery hadn’t been able to answer that question. She’d only visited her home once or twice a year since her father had died; her mother usually preferred to meet her in London. She had never even had much affection for the house, really; four years at boarding school and another three at university had made her a stranger to the place, and she still remembered the shock slicing through her at its decrepit state when she’d returned after her mother had announced she planned to sell it. When had the paintings been sold? When had the grounds gone to ruin? Had she never noticed, or had she simply not cared? Or, most frighteningly, had their family’s slide into financial ruin happened a long time ago, her father hiding the truth from her, as he had with so many things?
Yet, despite the Manor’s decrepit state, Ellery had been determined to keep it for as long as she could. Somehow the prospect of losing it—losing her childhood memories there—had forced some latent instinct to kick in and so she’d rushed into this unholy mess. Even now she couldn’t regret it, couldn’t shake the fear that if she lost the Manor, she lost her father. It was a stupid fear, absurd, because she’d lost her father long, long ago…if she’d ever really had him.
Grimacing, Ellery reached for a tomato from the windowsill and began to slice it with a bit too much vigour. She didn’t like to dwell on memories; if she thought too much about the past she started wondering if anything was true…or trustworthy.
‘Careful with that. You’re liable to lose a finger.’ Once again, Ellery jumped and whirled around, the chopping knife still brandished in one hand. Larenz stood in the doorway, looking even better than he had last night. Even in her pique, Ellery could not quite keep herself from gazing at him. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a worn grey T-shirt. Simple clothes, Saturday slumming clothes, Ellery supposed, yet Larenz de Luca looked far too good in them, the soft cotton and faded denim lovingly hugging his powerful frame, emphasizing his trim hips and muscular thighs.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said crisply. ‘And, if you don’t mind, I’d rather you knocked before coming into the kitchen.’
‘Sorry,’ Larenz murmured, sounding utterly unrepentant.
Ellery made herself smile and raised her chin a notch. ‘May I help you with something, Mr de Luca? Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes.’ She glanced pointedly at the old clock hanging above the stove. It was a quarter to nine.
‘Why don’t you call me Larenz?’ he suggested with a smile.
Ellery’s smile back was rather brittle. ‘I’m afraid it’s not the Manor’s policy to address guests by their first names.’ That was a complete fabrication and, from Larenz’s little smile, she could tell he knew it. He was amused by it.
‘The Manor?’ he queried softly. ‘Or Lady Maddock’s?’
‘I don’t actually use the title,’ Ellery said stiffly. She hated her title, hated its uselessness, its deceit. As if she was the only one who deserved it. ‘You may simply call me Miss Dunant.’ Listening to her crisp voice, she knew she sounded starchy and even absurd. She wished, for a fierce unguarded moment, that she could be someone
