The Vanishing at Loxby Manor by Abigail Wilson (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

I pressed my lips together. “Dare I risk it?”

He splayed his hand across his chest, feigning indignation. “I thought you knew me better than that. Last I checked I’m nota rake”—then more seriously—“nor would I ever betray your trust.”

The long months in Ceylon came to mind after I’d received his letter, but I shook off the memories. Everything I thought Iknew about our prior relationship had to be called into question, reexamined from a new angle. The drawing he left me cameto mind. It was time to start anew, and we were only friends now.

“If you will stand over there, I’ll hurry.”

I waited until he’d taken his stance in the corner, his back to me, before slinging my robe from my shoulders. A twinge ofembarrassment snuck down my spine and washed over my bare arms, but I realized in that strange moment that I did trust Piers,more than anyone else.

I threw a simple frock over my chemise before sliding my arms through my long pelisse. Though the day had been a warm one,I knew the night would not be so kind. I dropped into a chair at my dressing table. “All right, you may turn around.”

My voice must have sounded a bit serious, for when he whirled to face me he wore the oddest expression, as if he’d not seenme for some time.

He pushed off the corner of the wall and was behind me in one fell swoop. My fingers went to work on my hair, but the strandsfelt slippery under his watchful eyes. Suddenly rather clumsy, I dropped one strand then another as I attempted a quick chignon.

“Can I be of assistance?”

I met his gaze in the looking glass and my heart all but stopped. Hadn’t I dreamed of such a moment? Piers and me, alone inour bedchamber preparing for the evening. The whims of a different time and place.

He didn’t seem to notice my discomfiture as his fingers brushed my neck to hold the bottom part of the coiffure. My handsclenched briefly, then released. After all, it was the first intimate touch I’d received from a gentleman since the assault,and the shock of it left me frozen to my chair, but not in the way I’d imagined it would.

No, this was quite different.

He gave a breathy laugh that tickled my shoulder. “I can’t say I know what I’m doing, but I suppose I won’t make it any worse.”

As Piers leaned over to secure a hairpin, I caught a tantalizing whiff of his familiar cologne and it transported me backin time. Carefully I focused on the warmth of his skin, the delightful trickle of nerves that radiated down my back. It wasstrange really, how a simple touch could be so utterly wonderful yet alarming at the same time, like riding on the back ofa runaway horse—the initial rush of exhilaration, followed quickly by the all-too-real and desperately terrifying loss ofcontrol.

I grasped another hairpin and forced my chignon firmly into place before dropping my arms to my sides. “There.” As I sat,inwardly quivering, I employed a great deal of control to add over my shoulder, “And thank you.”

It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but as he stepped away, I caught a fleeting expression on his face. He, too,had sensed the invisible emotions passing between us. Turning to the window, he raked his fingers through his hair, but hecouldn’t completely hide the waver in his voice. “We’d better hurry.”

Chapter 15

The dark of night had brought with it a galling wind that surged against Loxby’s ancient stones and cast a spell of considerableunease on the horses.

Piers kept Gypsy close as we started up the narrow path toward the crest of the hill. We could no more bring a lantern thanannounce our arrival to the people at the abbey, so the hazy white light of the moon flickering through the clouds stood asour only guide.

Piers had been quiet most of the ride, but as I followed him into a grove of trees, he motioned me closer, his voice a whisper.“This is a good spot to dismount and tie up the horses. We’ll have to be careful as we make our way on foot across the openvalley.” He dismounted and secured Gypsy before coming to assist me.

I slipped into his waiting arms. I’m not certain his hands lingered at my waist any longer than was proper, but heavens, itfelt that way. At length, I shied away, pretending the need to adjust my pelisse but, more importantly, the gallop of my heart.

He took my hand, tugging me close. “I’d like to make our way around the back of the abbey. There’s a cut in the land therewhere we won’t be seen. That is, until we climb the small cliff. Do you think you can you manage such a thing?”

I nodded, unable to answer aloud, certain my voice would betray the wave of nerves feathering up my arm from the warmth of his hand.

We dodged the sharp fingers of low-hanging tree branches and the sticky nails of dense shrubs as we exited the small grovewhere we’d tied off the horses. More than once I had to free my pelisse.

We crouched as we skittered across the meadow, through the tall grass, and wound our way closer to the River Sternway. Therewas a small outcropping of dark rock that terminated into a plateau.

As soon as we were safely out of sight and with the river burbling behind us, Piers pulled me close once again. “I’ll giveyou a boost onto that ledge and then swing myself up.” He cupped his hands and I placed my half boot into his fingers. Withlittle effort I was thrust upward toward the edge of the rock where it was up to me to pull myself the rest of the way. Iused my forearms to give myself just a few more inches before finally catching my knee on the ledge. It certainly wasn’t ladylike,but with