Heart's Compass, page 38
Rising, Leona picked up the last portrait and headed for the door. “I have to go put this up in my room.”
“Wait a minute. I got you a studio readied on the third floor. If you want, you can put it there. I promise that no one will look at it and no one will go into the room. I figured that you would probably need a place to just be yourself. Come on. I’ll take you up.”
They headed up the stairs and entered the room. It was huge. There were big windows on two of the walls, making it wonderfully bright. There were tables that were sitting empty, just clamoring for her to cover them with canvases and paint.
Along one wall under the windows were a chaise lounge and some overstuffed chairs. The fireplace was lit and spreading warmth throughout the whole room. On another wall was a small bed.
A sigh of disbelief escaped her. “Wow. It’s amazing. Thank you so much.”
Setting down the picture she had on an empty table, she walked into the center of the room, opened her arms as if to welcome the sun and spun in a circle. Her hair fell out from under its pins and floated around her head like a black silk cloud.
She spun until she was dizzy. It was perfect, she could handle this. Stopping, she looked at Ciara’s face, which had a motherly look on it, one of joy and pride.
“Can I say thank you for the rest of the day?”
“Just don’t spend most of your time up here. You’re part of the family and I expect you at meals and to go out with us at times. The bed is for the nights that you stay up here too long, not so you can remove yourself from the family.”
There was more of the mothering woman. Leona nodded. “Of course. Thank you so much.”
With a quick pat to the wrapped picture, she and Ciara left the room and headed back downstairs, where they discovered company. She tugged her hair into a loose clip.
It was Lucien’s sister, her husband and their children. They stayed for dinner and the women thoroughly enjoyed one another’s company. They all complimented Leona on her portrayal of the families in her portraits. Leona just smiled and shook her head so half of her face was covered with hair.
Before heading to bed, Leona went back up to the studio. She set up one of the easels and put on a fresh sheet of paper. Leona turned up the lamp, pulled up a stool, picked up the charcoal and began to draw. She stayed there for hours before her eyes began to sting.
She leaned back and looked down at her picture. Simply seeing the picture brought tears to her eyes. It was Trace. Only a headshot, it captured the way that she saw him. Sharp features, thick hair, no beard—which is how she preferred him. It was such a good likeness its eyes pierced her soul, and so with a jerk of her hand she covered it up with another sheet. Banked the fire and headed for her room and her bed.
* * * *
She basically climbed up him, his hardened body. She clamored to get closer, if that was possible. They were intertwined and naked on a bed. His strong lean body covered hers as he lowered his mouth. Whispered promises of what he was going to do to her flowed between them. It was a most stimulating feeling to have this man holding her.
His hands tantalized her body. Everywhere he touched flames rose and licked at her skin. Lower and lower they went, moving in small circles, serving only to fan the flames of desire each second.
He hovered above the juncture of her thighs momentarily. His fingers threaded through the hair at her junction, not touching the heat, just teasing. Closer and closer his fingers came.
Leona whimpered as she tried to lift her hips to get his fingers to the center of her heated core. He moved his fingers just out of reach then back again, only barely touching where her body cried out.
Finally his fingers slid through the outer lips and into wetness. Just not quite what she wanted. She wanted that and more. Much, much more.
He nudged her legs apart and settled himself in between her thighs. His throbbing cock teased the entrance of her core. Large hands cupped her hips and lifted her toward him. He positioned himself and—
A loud pounding on her door woke her. Leona’s whole body tingled with desire and wanton need. She glanced at the window and realized that it was still dark outside. And nasty, for the wind and rain pounded against the glass. The person still pounded on her door, even more insistent now.
Leona rose and put on her wrapper before she opened the door. It was Lucien. He looked almost panicked, but since he was together, calm, controlled, it appeared more of an unsettling concern. “What is it? Lucien, what’s the matter?”
“Ciara needs your help. There’s been an accident. She says that you also do some healing. Come now.” He grabbed her arm and pulled on it unceremoniously.
“Let me get my bag first.” She ran to her closet and picked up her bag and followed Lucien down the stairs.
A fire roared in the receiving room and there were four men laid out on the floor in front of it. Ciara was there, already having gone to work on one of the men. A sigh of relief came out of her mouth as she saw Leona.
Leona hesitated mere seconds to assess the situation, then she headed for another man as she removed her robe to put under his head as a cushion. It took her seconds to bind her hair out of the way then she began to attend the man who lay bleeding in front of the fire.
It took them about four hours to sew up the men to their satisfaction. When they were done both women were covered in blood as well. As she settled back on her heels, Leona looked at the men, who were out of danger now.
Her nightgown was ruined. Not that there was much to it, for it was naught but a flimsy silk item that she had gotten to spoil herself. Now it was covered in bloody patches.
Leona was in front of the fire when she began to rub her neck, unintentionally exposing her back to the other two in the room. Ciara placed her own robe over Leona’s shoulders.
Grateful for the extra warmth, Leona nodded her thanks. Completely unaware of what she had just shown her hosts. It had been a long time since she had worked that long on a person, much less worked on four of them, and she was exhausted.
Trace, where are you? She wished more than anything that she had him here to lean on like Ciara was doing with Lucien. Leona rose slowly, nodded to the couple, and headed out of the room to return to her room.
There was a hot bath waiting for her but before she got in, there was another knock on her door. Too tired to open it, she just spoke. “Come in.”
Lucien and Ciara entered. “Thanks for your help, Leona. You are a wizard with the needle.” Ciara gave her a kiss on the cheek and Lucien placed an identical one on the opposite cheek. They left arm in arm to seek their own bed.
Leona took a quick bath—just long enough to let some of the stiffness leave her body. Then she redressed in a clean outfit and climbed back into bed. Only this time she only had the buffeting winds to lull her to sleep. There was no sign of Trace. She was again alone.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the next week, the dressmaker came and went. Leona and Ciara both were extra careful to make sure that her back stayed covered in the presence of others. When the woman finally left, Leona had more clothes than ever before. Walking dresses, sitting dresses, working—well, painting—dresses, formals, semi-formals and a myriad of others.
She also got a whole new wardrobe of underclothes. There she got some that would be backless, but Leona did not model for them. She had the lady take her measurements from another item of clothing.
This was the day that they were being delivered. Ciara had joined her in the unpacking and repacking to go to London. The women were ‘oohhing’ and ‘ahhing’ over each piece, as were the maids who were doing the actual work.
“Don’t you think this is a little too revealing?’”
“Nonsense, Leona. This is the current fashion.”
The dress was stunning. The color was golden-bronze, but it had silver threads running through it to capture the light and shimmer. The fit was tight so those around her could see her figure. The bodice dipped low to reveal her abundant cleavage. The color was so close to her own skin tone it appeared that she was wearing nothing at all.
It was sleeveless and appeared backless but there was a thin covering of gossamer that covered her back and kept her shame hidden. Leona looked stunning in it. But she had just watched as they’d laid it out in the trunk for traveling.
“You will knock him dead with this one.”
“Knock who dead, Ciara?”
She had smiled and shrugged. “Oh, whoever. All of them. Let’s get downstairs and go riding before we have to leave.”
Both women, now dressed in buckskins, headed down the stairs and out to the stables. Moments later they rode out, each woman riding astride and bareback off to destinations unknown.
* * * *
He knocked on the door for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. This time was different, since after the dour-faced butler opened the door, he stood back to admit him inside the home.
“He will meet with you in the study, sir.” With that, Trace was led down the corridor. They stopped at a door and there was a moment of silence before one pristine white glove knocked once, sharply, on the door.
“Enter.” From within came the response, spoken in a deep voice.
The butler opened the door and stood back to allow the man to enter before him. “Colonel Morgan to see you, my lord.”
“Thank you, Weeks. That will be all.”
“Very well, my lord.” The man named Weeks quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him.
At the desk sat a large man. His stern visage glanced across the large mahogany desk as intense blue eyes assessed.
“What can I do for you, Colonel Morgan?” The voice was low, as if he really didn’t wish to speak with him at all.
“I was looking for a friend of mine and heard that she had been commissioned by you. Her name is Leona O’Neill.”
“Many people say they know her just to meet her and try to marry her for money. How do I know you aren’t any different?”
“I have known Leona since we were both children. My son and I are in town and I wanted to stop in and visit for a bit.”
“She is not in London at the moment. She will be coming in for the ball that we are giving. You can come then and visit with her if you wish. I will have Weeks extend an invitation to you.”
Trace bit back his annoyance. This man wasn’t telling him everything. “Perhaps you could just tell me where she is, and I will go see her.”
Challenge flared in the eyes of the man behind the desk. “Right now she is at my country estate. You can visit with her once she is here.”
At his house… Could this be the man she wanted to be with? No, he just wouldn’t accept it. Tamping down his anger, although his own eyes grew as sharp as shards of glass, he responded with a flat voice. “Very well. I accept the invitation to the ball.”
“Good. Then I…we will see you there.” The butler appeared as if summoned with an invitation all ready for him.
Trace took the envelope and followed the butler out to the front door. Inside he seethed as he thought of that man touching his woman. His woman.
As Trace headed back to the hotel, he watched as couples passed along the walk in the park. Even though it was cold there were plenty of people out. All of a sudden, he saw his son there. With a quick pound on the roof, he got them to stop so he jumped out.
“Falcon. What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in the hotel.” He was stuck between fear and anger because of what could have happened to his son.
“No, Papa,” he corrected, “you said I couldn’t go out alone. There were some boys who were coming with their mothers and said that I could come along. They are right over there if you want to meet them.” His boy had a sharp mind, for those were the precise words that he had used.
“All right. Let’s go meet them.”
“Did you find her, Papa?”
“Not yet, she isn’t in town. I will have a chance to see her at a ball later on.” No, right now she is being kept at some rich man’s country estate. He was so angry, but he kept it under control.
Ever since he’d understood that his rage could cause Leona pain, he had been keeping better control of himself. He knew that she had tried to close down their link because of his inability to be in command of his own emotions. When she’d allowed him to feel her pain he had immediately tapped down his anger. Anything to keep her from feeling pain. Anything to keep her safe.
Over the next couple of days Falcon spent time outside with the other boys who were at the hotel. They spent their time looking at the members of the peerage as they trotted through the Row.
For himself, Trace spent his time finding something to wear to the St. Martin ball. He went to fittings and tried on numerous suits until he finally found the one that was just perfect. Even so wasn’t sure if he should go in uniform or not. It was tailored just for his body, accentuating his broad shoulders and his waist that bore not a trace of fat, and lean muscular legs. It made him look to be the man he was meant to be. Leona’s man.
Trace was no longer the sick man who Leona had found near death on the field. Since he had left her, he had once again filled out. He was the solid man that he had been before the war began. A fit man for the military, for he had really only semi-retired.
* * * *
One afternoon, as he and his son were sitting by a lake watching the ducks and tossing them bread every now and then, he noticed a younger boy and girl playing alone on the edge of the water. Suddenly the girl slipped and fell into the water, face first.
As she scrambled to sit, her face bunched up and she let out a lusty wail as her brother tried to calm her down. But to no avail. Her cries grew louder and louder. Trace rose and hurried down to the edge.
“Here now. You’ll be all right.” He knelt down by the child and wiped her face off with a clean dry linen. “Let’s just get you cleaned up a bit.”
As Trace tended to the little girl who was watching him with eyes the color of amber whiskey, her brother—at least, he supposed it was her brother—began to speak to his son.
“Who are you?” Falcon asked.
“My name is Bryn. Who are you?” There was an accent to his words that Trace couldn’t quite place.
“I’m called Falcon.”
“Falcon. What kind of name is that?” No accusation, just curiosity.
“It’s one that my father—that’s him with the girl there—told me I could have. Not my real name, but I don’t like my real name. Is that your sister?”
“I see. Bryn is just a nickname for me as well. Yes, that’s my sister. Her name is Keely.”
Trace heard that and spoke to the little girl. “Well, Keely, where are your parents?”
“At home. I’m out with the maid. She doesn’t keep a very good eye on me, though. Mama will get mad at her for that.”
“Why will she do that?”
“’Cause. They are supposed to watch me better.” There was a sigh from the girl before she climbed up into Trace’s lap and snuggled herself under his chin. “You remind me of my papa. But his hair is black, and he has blue eyes.”
“Do you come here a lot?” Bryn asked Falcon.
“Every day. What about you?”
“Only sometimes. I try, but it’s not always possible. I prefer to come with my parents, but my father is usually busy.”
A rumpled and flustered maid came running up to the children. “Oh my God, there you are. Why did you run off like that?” She leveled a finger at Keely and narrowed her eyes.
Before she could say another word, Bryn insinuated himself between them, as if Trace weren’t even there. “Don’t you dare threaten my sister. It is your fault, for all you wished to do was meet some man here in the bushes.”
Trace was shocked. The boy spoke like he was a very powerful man. Just like someone who Trace himself had seen recently. In fact, the boy’s eyes looked familiar as well.
“Don’t get smart with me. All I did was turn my back for a second.”
“No, we had walked away a long time before that. My father will hear of this.”
“We are going home.” The woman reached for Keely, who screamed and shrank into Trace even more.
“No! I want him to take me home. I don’t like you.” There was more than just childlike fear—it was closer to a full-blown panic.
“You don’t even know who he is. Now come with me. Keely, this instant.” She snapped her fingers as if to drive home her point.
Trace rose effortlessly, keeping Keely pressed to his chest where she was safe and warm with his coat over her. Then he smoothly placed his body between Bryn, who trembled with anger, and the flushed maid.
“She knows who I am. It is no problem for me to escort these children home. For some reason they don’t trust you and from what I have seen they have good reason. You, miss, will lead the way. I will walk with Bryn and carry the little lady so she doesn’t get any colder.” In a tone that booked no room for argument, he stared the woman down and added, “Now would be good for us.”
Defeated, she spun around and stomped off, leaving the others to follow. Trace adjusted Keely and looked down to the boys, who were waiting for him to follow her first. “Falcon, make sure you stay close to me. I don’t know where we are going.”
“Okay, Papa.”
“Thank you. For standing up for me and my sister.”
Trace smiled. “Not a problem. Besides with such a beautiful little lady how could I not help?”
“See, Bryn, he thinks I’m beautiful.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother.
Falcon looked up at the girl and saw a mark on the upper part of her arm as she went to put it back under his father’s jacket. “Papa.”
That one word’s tone stopped Trace in his tracks. He swung his gaze to his boy and asked a wordless question. “Look at her arm, Papa.”
Trace moved so he could see her arm, There were fresh bruises on it. Anger began to grow. Not saying anything, he looked down at the boy with a question in his eyes.
