Page 42 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

Any man would want her unless he was half-dead. But Carlisle was accustomed to being more in control of his urges. He might look at her, think about what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her in his arms, but that didn’t mean he would succumb to such stirrings of desire. But standing there so close to her the other day in the library and looking down into her eyes, reason and propriety had had no place in him. He would have kissed her if Adeline hadn’t interrupted them.

He had promised Noelle safety and then he’d made advances to her. She held him in little enough esteem already. Would she think that he was like those other men who had tried to take advantage of her? Or would she think that he still assumed she was a woman of loose morals?

With a sinking heart, he realized she probably thought both those things. Today after the shooting was the first time since that moment in the library that they had talked to each other without discomfort and restraint—and despite the circumstances, he had taken pleasure in that. No doubt it said something reprehensible about him.

Carlisle let out a sigh of irritation. He was never going to sleep at this rate. He went downstairs to his office and poured himself a glass of brandy, then walked down the hall to the library. Noelle spent many of her evenings there, but surely tonight, with them leaving early tomorrow, she would have gone to bed already.

A certain feeling danced in his chest as he made his way to the library, and he suspected that it was more hope of seeing Noelle than fear of it. When he pushed open the large door and found the cavernous room empty, the distinct drop in his energy confirmed his suspicion. But, of course, that was best anyway. Settling at the small table near the globe with his glass and a well-worn copy of Lewis’s The Monk, he began to read.

By the time he finished his drink, his tension had eased and he was beginning to think he might be able to sleep. That idea shattered when Noelle stepped into the room. Carlisle popped to his feet, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was in his shirtsleeves. He was even more aware that Noelle was clad in a dressing gown, a small V of white cotton visible at the top.

She stopped just inside the door. Her hand went to her hair, which was charmingly mussed, and then to the top of her dressing gown, pulling the lapels a little closer together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here. I saw the light and thought I had forgotten to turn off a lamp.”

“I was just leaving,” Carlisle said quickly. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. But it was inappropriate to be here alone with her, clad as they were.

“No. Please don’t.” Noelle shook her head. “I am the one who has disturbed your peace.”

“You haven’t,” he lied. If only she knew in what way and how very much she disturbed his peace. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“I am glad to find you here. Something has been on my mind, and I had trouble sleeping. That’s why I came in here, looking for a book.” She moved closer, stopping in front of him. “But I’d like to speak to you.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat, wondering if he should dread what was coming or hope for it. “Of course. What did you want to discuss?” He must focus, but it was bloody difficult when his eyes kept straying to the smooth column of her throat, so white and soft and utterly inviting. The vulnerable hollow of her throat, which his tongue hungered to taste.

“This afternoon when we were talking about Gil and going to London—”

“Have you changed your mind about going?” His heart dropped.

“No.” She looked surprised. “I intend to go. But I did not want you to think...” Noelle paused, as if searching for the right words. “I didn’t want you to think that I wished to accompany you because I distrust you. When you jumped to tell me that Gil’s heir was not you, I realized that you must believe I still thought you might harm Gil. I wanted you to know that I did not, even for a moment, imagine that you had anything to do with the attempt on Gil’s life.” She laid a hand on his forearm. “You may very well have saved Gil’s life. There is no way I could ever repay you.”

“There’s no need.” Carlisle covered her hand with his. Her touch was so warm. So inviting. “You know I care very much for—for Gil. For this whole family. I would never let any harm come to him.”

“I know.” Noelle’s eyes were large and luminous, shimmering. Surprising him, she reached up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Carlisle.”

Hearing his first name on her lips was too much for him to bear. He reached out, his thumb brushing across her cheek. His hand slid back to cup the nape of her neck. She stretched up into his touch, inviting it.

Carlisle bent and kissed her soft mouth. Her lips parted and heat rushed through him. His arms went around her as her mouth responded, and she melted into him. He tightened his embrace, pressing his body into hers. Noelle slid her hands up his chest, her fingers curling in his shirtfront. It felt so good, so right to have Noelle in his arms, her body molded against his. Noelle, Adam’s widow. Abruptly, Carlisle released her and stepped back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I should not—”

“It’s fine,” Noelle said quickly, but there was something in her eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. A sadness.

He hated that he had put that sorrow there. Now would she believe he couldn’t be trusted? “If you no longer wish to go to London...”

“No,” Noelle said firmly, and there was no denying the steel in her blue eyes. “I will see you tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Yes. Breakfast. I should, um, go on to bed then.” He scooped up his glass and book. There was no way he was reading any more tonight, but perhaps if his hands were full, he’d be less tempted to take her back into his arms and kiss her with an abandon that he wasn’t sure he could rein in. “Good night, my lady.”

WHEN NOELLE AND Carlisle reached London the next day, Carlisle sent for Diggs and told him about the near shooting with Gil, then set him looking into Sloane Rutherford. “I want to know where he was yesterday, what his businesses are, what unsavory characters he associates with, everything you can discover. But also keep looking for the man who tried to seize Gil here in London. He is our best hope of tying this to Sloane—or proving it was someone else.”

As Diggs left with his new orders, Carlisle turned to Noelle. “I am going to call at Sloane’s house now. With luck, he’ll be there, and it won’t necessitate a long journey.”

“Very well.” Noelle rose to her feet.

“Why don’t you remain here and rest? It was a long drive.”

She gave him a look. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. It was a short drive. I am not tired. And I have no intention of staying behind while you quiz this man about whether he tried to murder my son.”

As it turned out, their disagreement didn’t matter, for the butler who answered Sloane’s door informed them that Mr. Rutherford was not at home. Even with Noelle’s best cajoling, the most the servant would say was that Sloane often retired to his estate in Dorset.