The Devil of Blackhill Hall - Part 2 (The Blackhill Hall Saga) by Eliza Carlton

Author:Eliza Carlton [Carlton, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-18T04:00:00+00:00

Caroline had grown still, and pensive. How, he marveled, was she able to always be in such control of herself? Her inner peace was an incredible rarity that he could not begin to fathom. How was it that while he felt constantly in the merciless grip of his feelings, a pawn, no more able to control the storm within, than to hold back the rain; that she was the calm - the eye in the middle of the storm, graceful, and self-possessed, no matter what hell swarmed around her. Here she sat, this creature: delicate, composed, angelic, and stronger than he might ever hope to be.

She pulled the last pin free, letting her long twist of dark hair come to rest over her shoulders. He could smell the scent of it, even from where he stood- salt sea, wood smoke, a touch of jasmine, and Caroline. The unmistakable scent of her, that he craved like a starving man. Her midnight black hair shone in the candlelight. It was so beautiful. He longed to take the brush out of her hands and run it through her hair himself as she began to untangle the shining mass. He wanted the silk of it between his fingers, wanted to press his face into the bundle of it at her neck.

Clearing his throat, he moved to the door, dragging himself away from the last few moments that he might ever spend with her.

"Lucian?" she called as he put his hand on the handle.

"Yes?"

"Would you... stay with me?" she asked, and he froze, afraid to look back at her, afraid that he had misunderstood, afraid to break the spell.

"I thought to wait, in the hall, before your door. I shall watch over you, for as long as I am able," he said and saw her consider his proposal.

"I think I would prefer you here... if you do not mind," she stated. He felt his stomach leap at her words. She was putting her trust in him, and it was more than he deserved. At his silence, she went on. “Propriety seems… no longer important,” she said simply.

"Of course," he said, gently. He took a breath. Then he turned back into the room, and saw her, going about her preparations, as if she had not just handed him a piece of the moon.

He moved slowly, aware of her eyes on him in the mirror. She stood, her hair now falling to her waist, and she moved smoothly to the bedside and lit a candle, before extinguishing all the others. His eyes adjusted to the new darkness as he saw her go to her trunk. She faced away from him.

“Lord Lucian. Would you kindly turn around please?”

Heat flashed through him, tightening this body, as he looked away, turning quickly to the wall. Feeling unsure what to do with himself, he removed his boots, unbuttoned his jacket, and cast it on the chair. His waistcoat and cravat followed, but he left his shirt sleeves and breeches. He felt at his neck.

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