Wild Heart. Lori BrightonЧитать онлайн книгу.
he demanded.
Without hesitation, Ella spun around and raced from the room. Slamming the door shut, she leaned against the wall and took in great gulps of air. Dear Lord, he’d kill her, he would. A loud crash shook the floor. Ella gasped, lifted her skirts, and scurried down the hall. She couldn’t do this…she couldn’t…she wouldn’t. She’d have to find another way to help Fran. She reached for her bedroom door when realization made her freeze.
He’d spoken.
Her arm fell to her side, and she turned, staring down the long hall where she could barely decipher the outline of his door.
“Can you speak?” she’d asked him at the waterfall. What a ninny he must have thought her. But how well could he speak?
“Ella?” Lord Roberts stood at the top of the stairs, watching her.
Guilt washed through her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. He thought she’d stay, that she’d be a miracle tonic for his grandson.
With a sigh, he started toward her, not pausing until he reached the window beside her.
“If you follow that path,” Lord Roberts started, nodding toward the horizon. “It will take you directly to the sea.”
She couldn’t stop herself from looking in the direction he indicated. “Really?”
“But you aren’t here to enjoy the scenery, are you?”
Her face flushed, and she shook her head. “I—I don’t know how I can help him. I think he may be beyond help.” But even as she said the words, she knew it was the fear talking, fear of emotions so troubling and powerful she knew they could be her demise.
Lord Roberts sighed. “When Leo’s father wanted to go to India, I didn’t say a word.”
Ella’s heart skipped a beat. “India?”
“He’d always been an adventurous boy, and I knew I couldn’t stifle his longing. For twelve years now, I’ve regretted that decision. Leo’s parents were murdered there.”
Ella couldn’t contain her gasp.
Lord Roberts continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Leo was nowhere to be found. My second son traveled there, but could find no trace. A little over a year ago, Leo appeared at this house. I didn’t believe it was him, at first. But he had his father’s ring and his grandmother’s eyes.”
“But where was he all that time? How did he survive?” Ella demanded. Suddenly, her visions were starting to make sense.
“He had a friend with him, some sort of Indian native named Akshay who comes and goes like a thief. Speaks even less than Leo. Other than that, I do not know who helped him survive.”
“You haven’t asked?”
He gazed out over the gardens below, his face tired and worn down by the burdens of life. “I tried, but the boy is rather silent, if you haven’t noticed.”
“But, you do know he can speak, don’t you?”
“Of course, although he’s barely spoken more than a few words to me. He’s not an animal, if that’s what you think. Spent time with an Italian artist where he learned to paint. He was old enough when he lost his parents to retain a bit of the English culture. But he needs refinement. Needs to learn how to behave around women if he is to ever marry and carry on our family line.”
They lapsed into silence. Ella’s mind spun, her thoughts a jumble of confusing emotions. Half of her wanted to run; the other half told her to stay and help this man who so desperately needed her. Although Lady Buckley’s youngest girls had been kind enough, they’d never truly needed her. No one had since her grandfather died.
“Will you stay, Ella? Will you try and help him?”
She met Lord Roberts’s blue gaze. She could see the hope there, the fear, the worry, the exhaustion, the same emotions most likely mirrored in her own eyes. If she stayed, she might be able to help both Leo and Lord Roberts. If she stayed, she may ruin herself completely. But nagging at the back of her mind was the picture of Leo as a child—his fear, his sorrow, his pain. A lad who deserved his misfortune as little as she deserved hers. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt like Leo was almost a kindred soul. A mere boy who’d seen too much.
How had he survived?
How could she say no?
Chapter 3
Cold, lonely, destructive.
He saw no hope in those waves, so why did she stand there as if the sea were her salvation? Fascinated, Leo watched the governess tilt her face to the sky, a soft smile playing on her lips as an ocean breeze danced with her golden brown hair. There was an innocence, a purity about her that drew him…pulled him under until he thought he might drown. Was it possible she controlled the ebb and flow of the waves? It wouldn’t surprise him.
She crossed her arms over her chest and walked the edge of the water. As if she sensed him watching, she looked his way. Her gaze locked on his, and the breeze carried her gasp of surprise. She was quicker than most at hiding her reaction. Smoothing her features to an unreadable expression, she lifted her gray gown, exposing trim ankles, and started toward him.
“Good morning, my lord,” she called out.
He slipped his father’s ring into his trouser pocket and remained silent. Not because he didn’t know how to speak, but because he’d learned long ago that silence could easily intimidate. She clambered up the rocks toward him, and with a frown, he realized she wasn’t as intimidated as he thought.
“It’s a little chilly this morn.” Reaching his side, she gave him a tight smile and perched on a boulder next to him. With her back perfectly straight, she smoothed her skirts around her as if at a bloody tea party with the queen.
He didn’t know what to make of the woman. She was far removed from the overly perfumed trembling misses he’d been forced to endure during last year’s season in London. Her scent was soft, like fresh air, the opposite of the spicy and heady scent of Indian women. Completely different, yet there was something…something…
Cazzarola. She was beautiful and tenacious.
“I haven’t been to the sea since I was a child.” Her tone was wistful, lyrical in a way that forced him to listen, whether he wanted to or not. “I used to visit every day and collect shells. My uncle found them for me wherever he traveled. He went to Ind—” she broke off and blushed.
He didn’t move, but continued to stare directly into her eyes, willing her to flee in embarrassment. Silently goading her to leave him in peace. He knew she wouldn’t dare mention the country, for not a soul had since he’d arrived. They pretended as if he’d merely gone on a holiday to the Continent, rather than a nightmare in hell.
“India,” she whispered, surprising him. Those sky-blue orbs shined with sympathy, a sympathy that made his gut churn.
How much did she know? His frown deepened, and he tore his gaze away, afraid she’d read the truth in his eyes.
“I do so love the ocean. My uncle used to say that when you lived by the sea, you could go anywhere, anything was possible.” She breathed in deeply and let her lashes drift down, dark fans that shadowed her upper cheeks.
He had the unsettling feeling he could sit there and watch her forever. His hands curled at his sides as he resisted the urge to touch her face, to feel her smooth, porcelain skin underneath his fingertips, to slide his hands through her silky hair, to taste her lips.
She smelled clean, like the morning dew in a garden of roses, and he wanted to drink in her innocence. But the innocence of her cheery smile and twinkling eyes belied the strength in her body. A trim waist and slender ankles were proof she was no lazy miss. He could easily crush her, but he had no doubt she’d put up a fight.
“I have missed the ocean terribly.”