Seduction & Scandal by Charlotte Featherstone

Author:Charlotte Featherstone [Featherstone, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HQN
Published: 2011-07-27T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“WHERE ARE YOU taking me?”

“To my library, I thought you might like to see it.” He smiled mischievously. “Don’t all authors love books?”

She ought not to be charmed by him, but it was useless to put up a front. She was captivated and couldn’t help it. She would follow him anywhere, and not just because he acknowledged her as an author, but because she adored books.

She knew she shouldn’t follow him anywhere, and leaving her cousin behind and alone wasn’t something she should do, either. “Lucy,” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder, but Black pulled her along, down the darkened hallway, and around the corner.

“She’ll be fine,” he muttered. “Your cousin has the constitution to attend séances, I daresay she can handle herself with Sussex.”

Opening the door, he ushered her through and Isabella forgot all about Lucy and Wendell, and the fact that she had vowed to put Black out of her mind and never again allow herself to be alone with him.

“Oh, look at this,” she whispered in awe. Turning in a small circle, she stood, openmouthed, and looked at the walls that were covered in bookshelves from floor to ceiling, every inch of them housing books with different-covered spines with gilt lettering.

A massive desk with a large leather chair dominated the room, and she ran her fingers over the gleaming veneer thinking how lovely it would be to curl up in that chair and write her book at this very desk.

On the other side of the library were more chairs, all wingback, and a very beautiful black velvet chaise longue with gilt-scrolled edges sat in the middle of the room, with a thick carpet underneath.

The hearth was massive, the mantel constructed of marble with heavy Corinthian columns. The crest of the earls of Black dominated the center of the frontispiece, a Scottish shield with a cross and a dragon curled around it.

Above the fireplace was an enormous portrait of a knight who bore the white mantle and red cross of the Templars. His hair was long and black, his beard the same onyx color as his hair, and his eyes…she stared up at him, and imagined this man a little younger, his hair shorter, his face clean shaven… It was the very likeness of Black.

“Drake Sheldon, the first earl of Black,” he announced as he stood beside her gazing up at the portrait. “He was known as the Dragon because, simply put, he was a beast both in and out of battle. They said that one could see the flames of hell mirrored in the metal of his sword as it came slashing down.”

“You have his eyes. My goodness,” she whispered. “It’s uncanny the resemblance.”

“Do you think so?”

“Oh, yes, it’s remarkable. He was a Templar.”

“Yes. Before he left on Crusade he was a knight for hire. He’d be considered a mercenary by today’s standards, selling his sword and arm to the highest bidder. But back then, in the twelve hundreds, knights for hire were as common as girls selling oranges in front of theaters.

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