Wild Heart. Lori BrightonЧитать онлайн книгу.
animal, desperate but not crying out for help. She didn’t understand the mixed signals, had never experienced such a confusing blend before. Fading and then pulsing to life as if the poor beast weren’t quite sure if he needed assistance or not. A trapped hare? A sickly bird? But it felt larger. A hunted deer?
She pulled the necklace from her collar, running the pendant up and down the thin, silver chain. Frustrated, she started to turn away when a sudden movement caught her attention. A man stalked from the house. The wind teased his hair, brushing the strands across his neck—strands much too long for any decent gentleman. Was he the culprit? The man responsible for tormenting whatever animal was in need of help?
Stunned and curious, she pushed the curtain farther aside and peered into the evening. In his hand he dragged what looked to be a framed canvas. How odd. Was he real or some mythical beast made visible by the magic of twilight? Her gaze slid from his face, hidden by his long hair, down to the sleeves of his white shirt, which were rolled to his elbows. Even from her vantage point she could see the corded muscles flexed in his forearms.
An unfamiliar heat pulsed through her body, pushing aside the familiar hum of her powers. The subject of her fascination stopped and threw the canvas in a wide arc. The painting sailed through the garden and landed on a yellow rosebush.
“Rather peculiar,” Ella whispered.
He spun around as if he heard her comment. Ella squeezed back behind the curtains. The small porcelain clock on the fireplace mantel ticked the time by. Unable to control her curiosity, she finally peeked between the folds of the drapes. His gaze lingered directly at her window. For a few seconds he merely stared. Surely he couldn’t see her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited…waited…waited.
Finally, he dropped his attention and disappeared into the house. Ella raced across the room and bolted her door. Safely ensconced, she leaned against the thick wooden panel and breathed a sigh of relief. By God, who was he?
“This castle has been in our family for three hundred years,” Lord Roberts explained.
Portraits of dour relatives glared down at Ella, as if demanding to know how she had been allowed access to their privileged family. She studied each picture looking for a familiar man with dark hair. All afternoon he’d commanded her thoughts. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about the strange garden visitor. Perhaps he’d been a disgruntled servant? But the cut of his clothing and arrogance of his stance did not suggest servitude.
“My elder brother.”
Lord Roberts’s voice broke into her thoughts. Feigning interest, she looked up to a tall portrait of a man with tousled brown hair and a wide grin.
“He looks cheerful,” she said.
Apparently, it was not the correct response.
Lord Roberts frowned and shook his head. “Disrepute. Unfortunately, the man was wild and uncontrollable. He held no interest in his heritage, or this castle. It is by his own careless selfishness that he died.”
Ella looked at Lord Roberts out of the corner of her eye, pressing her lips tightly together to keep her mouth from dropping open. She hadn’t expected such harsh damnation from a seemingly gentle man. But then there were many odd things about the Roberts household. The way her powers reacted, for one. And, of course the garden stranger.
Lord Roberts said nothing more but turned and started down yet another endless hall, and Ella was forced to hurry after him, worried she’d lose her way. “My lord, I’d like to make my good-byes to Lady Buckley before she leaves.”
He didn’t bother to look at her as he responded. “My dear, Lady Buckley left over an hour ago.”
The blood rushed from her head and Ella stopped, swerving on her feet. Alone? Utterly alone? Fran was gone? Lady Buckley had left? Was there to be no farewell? No words of encouragement or admonition?
“My dear?” Lord Roberts called out, glancing over his shoulder. Her face flushed and lifting the hem of her serviceable gown, she rushed to his side.
His bushy gray brows drew together. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” She forced a smile upon her lips and forced her mind to think of thoughts other than her sudden solitude. They were gone; there was nothing to be done. “It must be lovely, to have a family, a sense of history.”
“It is,” he said, but she didn’t miss the clouded look that crossed his faded blue eyes. “’Tis why you are here, Ella. My grandson is the next in line. I need him to be as well educated as possible when the time comes for him to take his place.”
“Of course,” Ella replied.
But the lanterns on the rock walls cast wavering shadows against the floor, demanding her attention and increasing her anxiety.
“Still, I feel I must warn you. My grandson,” Lord Roberts said, “has had a difficult life. He’s not exactly…normal.”
Ella tore her gaze from the dark hall to focus on Lord Roberts. His face was passive, but his eyes still held a sense of sadness that worried her. Against her will, her heart skipped a beat and she had to force her feet to continue forward, wondering over his ominous words.
“But I promise you, if you persevere, the reward will be well worth the effort.”
She parted her lips to question him further when he stopped outside double wooden doors carved with mystical beasts. Unicorns, dragons, elves all fought for attention like a children’s fairy tale come to life.
“Any family will hire you, Ella, upon learning you worked for me,” Lord Roberts said. “Just think, even royalty.” Before his words of promise could sink in, he reached out and pushed the doors wide.
A rush of apprehension washed over her like a chilly breeze. That feeling she’d had when she first arrived…that same feeling that had seeped in through her bedroom window. Her heart raced, but her mind stilled. Her entire body focused on the hum that started vibrating in her core. A beast, a beast in dire need, a beast confused, angry, hurt.
“Do not be afraid, my dear,” Lord Roberts said, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow and leading her into the room.
Afraid? Afraid! Why should she be afraid?
A crash made her jump. Even Lord Roberts tightened his hold. Blimey, is that where the noise had come from? Lord Roberts’s grandson?
“My lord, I do not have great experience with children.” Her face heated at the lie. “I mean, of boys, in particular.”
“Oh, that won’t matter much, my dear.”
He pulled her further into the gold room, her slippered feet whispering their resistance against the cold, marble floor.
“W—where is he?” Her gaze swept the pastel landscape murals on the walls, up to the ceiling where fat cherubs grinned down at her, demented sprites mocking her plight.
Her mind buzzed as a rush of emotion swept into her, then back out, like waves at sea. She couldn’t seem to catch hold of anything, merely hints of anger, frustration, sorrow, and resentment. Another crash resounded from beside her. Ella spun around. An empty easel was propped in the corner of the room, under the glow of wall sconces. Movement near the windows caught her attention.
A man. The man from the garden.
Dark hair glistened in the low candlelight, his broad back to her. Her body froze, her thoughts spinning.
“I thought I’d created him in my mind,” she whispered.
“You’ve met?” Lord Roberts turned to her, confusion in his eyes.
“No, I saw him this evening. He seemed to be…” What was the right word? “Overwrought about something.”
With what could only be called a growl, he tossed a paint-splattered canvas outside.
“Oh my,” she gasped.