The Undoing of de Luca (8 page)

Larenz’s mind leaped ahead to intruders, thieves, murderers, rapists. He thought of how isolated Ellery Dunant was here, mouldering in her Manor all by herself, and when he saw the light flickering again—it looked like a torch in someone’s hand—he swung around and began to stalk towards the barns.

‘Damn it to hell,’ he said aloud, for he knew his earlier determination was shot to pieces. He did care.

Ellery pulled the tarpaulin off the Rolls and stared at it under the sickly yellow glare of her torch. She let her breath out slowly; funny how even after years stored in a barn the car still retained its gorgeous gleam. Funny too how she’d almost forgotten it was here, how she’d made herself forget.

Until Larenz had forced her to remember.

Slowly she let her hand run along the antique car’s mudguard. The metal felt like hard silk under her fingers. Without even realizing she was doing so, she let out a small choked sound that was far too close to a sob.

Damn her father for making her love him so much. Damn him for hiding so much from her. Damn him for dying, and damn him for making her the kind of woman she was now, alone and afraid to love.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Ellery lifted her hands to swipe at the revealing moisture at the corner of her eyes. She drew in a desperate breath and let it out again; she needed to regain some composure, some control. Ever since Larenz had breezed into her life—just a little over twenty-four hours ago—she felt as if both had been slipping away from her. Why did he affect her so much? Why did she let him?

She let out another long, slow breath and then resolutely covered the Rolls back up. Perhaps she would sell it. Forty thousand pounds would, as Larenz had said, go a long way.

As she turned towards the barn door, feeling her way with careful slowness, the pale beam of the torch barely cutting a swathe through the unrelenting darkness, she wondered where he was. Was he coming back? Had he breezed out of her life as quickly and easily as he’d breezed into it, simply because she wasn’t the easy affair he’d counted on?

Why was she disappointed?

Then every thought flew from her head as a body tackled her, slamming her hard against the barn door, and the torch fell from her hand.

Ellery didn’t realize she’d screamed—and was still screaming—until a hand covered her mouth. Even in the midst of her terror and shock she was conscious of a familiar citrusy scent.

‘Larenz?’
she said, the words muffled against the hand still covering her mouth.

She heard what could only be a curse muttered in Italian. The hand dropped from her mouth, and she saw Larenz bend to pick up the torch. He shone it in her face, and she squinted in the sudden light.

‘What are you doing—’

‘What are
you
doing,’ Larenz demanded, his voice sounding almost raw, ‘out in the barn at one o’clock in the morning? I thought you were a thief—or worse.’

‘And you didn’t think to ask questions first?’ Ellery retorted. She rubbed her shoulder, which had hit the door hard. She would most certainly have a bruise.

‘Where I come from, you ask questions second,’ Larenz said roughly. He shone the torch up and down, inspecting her body. Ellery was uncomfortably aware that she was wearing her dressing gown and wellies. Not the most enticing combination. ‘Are you all right?’

‘A bit bruised,’ she admitted. ‘Didn’t you consider I might be inspecting my own property?’

‘In the middle of the night? No.’ Larenz paused, the torch still trained on her body. ‘I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.’

Ellery stilled, surprised and even moved by the contrition in Larenz’s voice. ‘It’s all right,’ she said after a moment. ‘I was about to go inside, anyway.’

She started to move away from the door but Larenz stilled her, one hand on her shoulder. ‘Ellery, why were you out here? Were you looking at the car?’

Ellery heard a note in his voice she didn’t like, couldn’t like. It was the gentle note of compassion, and it spoke of a song she couldn’t bear to hear. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them furiously away.

‘Perhaps I am thinking of selling it,’ she said roughly and pushed past him.

She couldn’t make her way in the dark without stumbling and possibly even hurting herself more so Ellery was obliged to wait for Larenz to catch up. Silently, he handed her the torch and she took it with stiff dignity. They walked back through the muddy gardens without speaking.

Once in the kitchen, Ellery shed her boots and went automatically to the big copper kettle on the range. She desperately needed a cup of tea, or perhaps something even stronger.

‘You should ice your shoulder.’

She stiffened. ‘It’s really not necessary.’

‘I slammed you rather hard against the door,’ Larenz replied evenly. ‘If you don’t ice it, it will bruise.’

‘I can handle a bruise.’

‘Why are you so touchy?’ Larenz murmured. That sleepy, hooded look Ellery was beginning to know well—and to both dread and desire—had come into his eyes, turning them a deep glinting navy. ‘Besides, I know for a fact there’s a big bag of peas in your chest freezer. I saw it last night when you so thoughtfully fetched me some ice.’ He smiled and Ellery’s heart turned over. Or squeezed. Or something, making it suddenly rather hard to breathe.

Larenz moved to the freezer, opening it and rifling through the contents before emerging with a bag of peas. ‘There. Plonk that on your shoulder for a bit.’

It would be easier, Ellery knew, to simply give in. If she iced her shoulder for a few minutes, perhaps then Larenz would leave her alone. Although half of her—more than half—didn’t want him to leave her alone. A good, and growing, part of her wanted him to stay…and more. So much more. She couldn’t deny the insistent need spiralling deep within her, pushing away any thoughts of regret or betrayal.

She swallowed and looked away. ‘Fine,’ she said and grabbed the bag of peas, pressing it against her shoulder. It was hard to do without wrenching her other shoulder, not to mention looking entirely awkward and, seeing this, Larenz took the bag from her. ‘Why don’t I do it?’ he murmured.

‘No—’

‘Are you worried I’ll kiss you again?’ His words were no more than a breath against her ear as he leaned down to press the bag of peas against her shoulder; his head was bent so his jaw was no more than a whisper away from Ellery’s own lips. And, just like that, the mood in the room changed, awareness replacing annoyance, the atmosphere more charged than ever before.

‘I wouldn’t say worried,’ Ellery managed. She moved her head back, away from the temptation of Larenz’s skin. Her heart slammed against her chest and her mouth had turned bone-dry. She was conscious of Larenz’s breath feathering her cheek. No, she wasn’t worried. She was wanting.

Wanting him.

She felt desire pool languidly in her limbs, felt her body and mind soften and open into possibility. At that moment she didn’t know why Larenz affected her so much, why her body responded in such a basic and overwhelming way to his. She didn’t care. All she knew was that she did want him to kiss her again, and more, and she was so very tired of fighting it. Her body acted of its own accord, leaning into him, her senses straining once more for his touch. He was so close; she could brush her lips against the warm, rough skin of his jaw and it would practically be an accident…

The kettle began to whistle shrilly, and Ellery jerked back as if it had actually scalded her. The bag of peas fell to the floor, splitting open so the peas rolled everywhere.

Larenz glanced down in bemusement. ‘Oh, dear.’

Ellery turned off the stove, her back to him, her blood and heart pumping far too fast. That had been close. So very, very close…

‘Why were you in the barn, Ellery?’

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ She turned around, the tin of tea held to her chest like a shield.

Larenz smiled and shrugged. ‘I don’t usually have tea at this time of night, but why not? Especially if there is a drop of brandy to go with it. You could use some, I’m sure.’

‘There’s a bottle somewhere,’ Ellery mumbled, turning back to the kettle. Larenz moved closer.

‘Why were you in the barn?’

‘I told you, I was checking up on things,’ Ellery replied stiffly. She reached for two mugs and her hand trembled. ‘Why do you care?’

Larenz didn’t answer for a long moment—long enough for Ellery to pour the tea and hand him his mug. She stared at him, surprised at the way his eyes had darkened with shadows, the angles of his face suddenly seeming harsh.

‘I don’t know why I care,’ he finally said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve been asking myself that all evening.’

Ellery felt that curious squeezing sensation in her chest once more and for a few seconds it was difficult to take a breath. She rummaged in a cupboard for the requested brandy. ‘I think it’s here somewhere…’ She was so very conscious of Larenz behind her, of the tension tautening between them and uncoiling in her own belly. She was conscious of her own rising need; the intervening moments had not stemmed it. She still felt. She still wanted.

She tried to keep her voice light as she asked, ‘Where were you all afternoon? Did you go touring?’

‘You could say that. I drove.’

‘Drove where?’ The conversation was utterly inane and made even more so by the fact that she didn’t care what his answers were. Speaking was simply a way of keeping herself from doing something far more desperate—and desirable.

She finally found the brandy in the bottom of the pantry, the bottle dusty but the amber liquid still glinting in the light. ‘Here you are.’

Larenz took it, his fingers wrapping around the neck of the bottle and over Ellery’s own hand. His gaze locked with hers, dark and unrelenting, and every thought flew from Ellery’s head. She was trapped by that gaze and she had the strange sensation that Larenz was as trapped by it—by this—as she was. Ellery didn’t move. She couldn’t. She knew if he kissed her now she wouldn’t resist. She wouldn’t want to.

And why should she? She’d been locked up in this Manor, keeping it like some kind of shrine to a family, a life that had never really existed, for six long months. She wanted to stop, if only for a night. Stop thinking, fearing, hiding.

And start living. Larenz was here, his eyes were on hers, his lips parted, his expression hungry and intense, and suddenly Ellery knew exactly what she wanted.

This.

She let go of the bottle, not thinking of it or anything but her own need and the answering look in Larenz’s eyes, and somehow it slipped, shattering at their feet. Yet neither of them even reacted to the broken glass and spreading liquid, the pungent smell of alcohol rising up towards them. Something far more dangerous was happening.

Ellery didn’t know who kissed who first. She didn’t care. All that mattered was that she’d found her way into Larenz’s arms and he was kissing her, his lips hot and hungry on hers as her arms wound around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer, and closer still—how she needed this…

‘The glass—’

‘I’ll clean it up later,’ she mumbled, turning her head to find his lips once more, eager and greedy. She felt Larenz smile against her mouth.

‘I prefer not to need to have stitches,’ he murmured, and in one easy graceful movement he’d swept her into an embrace, carrying her out of the kitchen and up the Manor’s sweeping staircase. He held her easily, as if she were weightless, and Ellery felt like a doll in his arms, small and treasured.

‘Where’s your bedroom?’ he asked, and then shook his head. ‘On second thoughts, forget it. If your bedroom was anything like mine last night, I don’t want to go there.’

‘Worse,’ Ellery admitted.

‘What’s the warmest place in the house?’

Ellery’s heart squeezed again. Yes, she wanted this—she really did—but, now that the heated moment in the kitchen had cooled just a little, she was left wondering and afraid once more. Just what was she getting herself into? ‘The master bedroom, I suppose,’ she answered after a moment, ‘or the drawing room when the fire is on—’ Her voice wobbled just a little bit. Ellery closed her eyes in embarrassment.

‘You’re getting cold feet, aren’t you?’ Larenz placed her back on the floor so her body slid sensuously against his, his hands still on her shoulders, until her feet touched the ground. She swayed towards him and he reached up to tilt her chin with one finger so she was forced to meet his gaze. ‘Ellery?’

‘Not cold,’ she corrected with a shaky laugh as her gaze slid away from his. ‘A bit cool, perhaps.’

She felt rather than saw his smile, and they stood there in the dark and quiet, the house full of empty shadows all around them, the only sound their own breathing.

It took Ellery a moment to realize that Larenz was not speaking on purpose; he was not trying to convince her with words or, far more persuasive, with kisses. He was giving her time. He was letting her decide.

Slowly she leaned in and rested her forehead against his chest; he slipped his hand down and laced his fingers with hers. They remained that way, silent and swaying, for several moments. A thousand thoughts tumbled through Ellery’s head. She realized she had no idea what she was doing…or why. She was afraid and excited and, strangely, a little sad. Yet she also knew if she could stretch this moment out into eternity, she would. She’d be happy just standing here in the dark, touching Larenz, feeling his breath and his heat, his hand gently—so gently—squeezing hers.

He wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. The realization slipped into her mind slyly, like a secret, yet a good one. She’d assumed Larenz de Luca was an entitled, womanizing bastard—and yes, he’d seemed like it at first—but, even so, Ellery knew she’d leaped to conclusions because she was afraid. Afraid that any man who touched her—touched her heart—might turn out like her father, leaving her as brutally betrayed as her mother had been. Leaving her alone.

She’d never been willing to take the risk.

Yet Larenz had shown her too many small, surprising kindnesses for her to rest on her assumptions. To hide behind them. And right now she didn’t want to. Right now she wanted to forget…and to feel.