A Gift of Joy by A Gift of Joy (html)

Author:A Gift of Joy (html) [Joy, A Gift of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-23T22:49:28+00:00

When Julian returned to Castleclare, the sun was just beginning its descent. He reined in his sorrel outside of the gates, briefly admiring the orange-red sun as it hung over the crenelated roof of the central tower, the bay glistening darkly blue just behind it. Then, tension he could not escape mounting inside him, he spurred his sorrel forward.

A few moments later he had entered his home. The hall was empty and silent, but a cheery fire blazed in the hearth. He looked around, almost grimly. The ancient trestle table had been polished until it gleamed. The stone floors had been waxed; they glistened like silver. Even the coat of mail in one corner had been tended to, and he saw no dust motes in the air nor any cobwebs in the corners. His mouth tight, Julian crossed the hall.

He turned down the corridor and entered that part of the castle which had been begun in the sixteenth century and completed at the turn of the seventeenth. His footsteps slowed as he approached the ballroom.

He paused on the threshold, taking a deep breath. God, it looked the way it had when he was a small boy of six or seven, before his father had gone so deeply into debt when his mother had had the resources to keep the place up. Julian's heart twisted as Lisa's image filled his mind.

All because of the little bride he did not want—yet wanted far too badly.

Julian stared at his reflection in the Venetian mirror above a small Chippendale table on the opposite side of the room. He glimpsed himself standing in his oldest riding jacket and threadbare boots in the magnificent room. Overhead, the chandelier sparkled, even in the fading twilight. How alone and forlorn he appeared. His face was a mask devoid of emotion, stern and patrician.

This was not going to work.

Lisa was no vain, shallow society heiress. She was sweet and lovely and she loved his home and dear God, she was willing to give him another chance. He knew it. Every time he dared to look at her he saw her every emotion shimmering in her amber eyes.

"Julian?"

He whirled, steeling himself against her. He nodded without speaking, but could no more stop himself from glancing at her thoroughly, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, than he could stop the sun from setting.

Her gaze was fastened upon his face. "I . . . saw you ride in," she said hesitantly.

Had she been watching for him? His pulse raced; his heart tightened; his loins filled. He clenched his fists tightly so he would not reach out, grab her, and do the unthinkable—so that he would not kiss her.

"Do you . . . like it?" she asked.

His jaw flexing, he forced himself to respond. "Everything is fine."

Lisa's gaze searched his, as if trying to read past his words to delve into his heart and his soul.

Abruptly Julian strode past her, his face a harsh mask. It was either that or succumb to temptation.

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