On a Wicked Dawn - Cynster 09 by Laurens Stephanie

Author:Laurens, Stephanie [Laurens, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 0060002050
Published: 2011-09-03T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

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He had absolutely no idea what Mrs. Higgs and Cook had prepared; he paid no attention to the food Cottsloe laid on his plate. He must have eaten, but as the storm gathered and built beyond the windows, he felt increasingly distanced, the violence outside calling to all he'd suppressed throughout the day until it—sating it—dominated his thoughts and his mind.

From the end of the table, shortened as much as possible but still able to seat ten, Amelia watched, and wondered. Over the years, she'd seen Luc in all his many moods—this one was new. Different.

Charged.

She could feel his intensity, crackling between them, feeding her own welling anticipation. An anticipation further buoyed by relief. His unexpected reserve, his eschewing of all loverlike gestures, had left her uncertain. Wondering if, now she was his wife, he was no longer as physically interested in her as he once had seemed. Wondering if that earlier interest had in truth been as potent as she remembered it.

Wondering if it hadn't in some measure been feigned.

Glancing up the table, she watched him sip from a crystal goblet, his gaze fixed on the windows, on the storm brewing outside. He'd always been enigmatic, cool, reserved; she'd assumed as they drew closer, his barriers would fall. Instead, the closer they grew, the more impenetrable his shields, the more of an enigma he became.

She wouldn't put it past him to pretend to a pretty passion as the easiest way to deal with her, to satisfy her within their marriage. She was not such an innocent as to think he couldn't, or wouldn't, do so if it suited him.

Cottsloe approached with the wine bottle; Luc glanced at her plate of poached figs, then shook his head.

He went back to staring at the storm.

While the intensity between them, stoked by that brief, dark impatient glance, surged even higher.

Suppressing a smile, she set herself dutifully to dispense with the figs. She couldn't leave them untouched—Mrs. Higgs said Cook had slaved over every dish, and indeed, the quality had been excellent. Given that the cook's master had paid not the slightest heed, it behooved her to make the effort.

She'd probably need the strength.

The wayward thought popped into her mind, and nearly made her choke. But it was an indication of her underlying thoughts, and her expectations.

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Ever since joining Luc in the library, she'd realized that, whatever else he might fabricate, this intensity—the attraction flaring between them—was not feigned. Not a construct created by a master seducer to dazzle her; the truth was, the master seducer wasn't thrilled.

That realization had sent her heart—and her hopes—soaring. He was giving an excellent imitation of a man driven, compelled, not by lust, but by something more powerful. Neither the direction nor his goal discomposed him, but rather the degree of his compulsion; he was a man who controlled all things in his life—being driven…

That was why, at least in part, he'd been so keen to leave the Place, why he was now so impatient to have her to himself.

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