mounted the stairs. At the top, she found herself in yet another hallway, with many doors on each side. Some were open, some closed, yet all the rooms looked as though they'd lain unused for decades.
A shaft of sunlight drew Elizabeth's attention to a place halfway down the hall. At the closed doorway she paused with her hand on the latch, suddenly suffering an odd premonition that she would be better off to leave this room alone. Yet her curiosity won over as she ignored the warning and pushed the latch down.
A musty scent assaulted her as she took her first step inside. A single window cast a bright splash of light into the center of the room, yet left the rest of the chamber in hazy shadow. Elizabeth took another step forward, then another, passing by furnishings that were covered with linen as well as cobwebs and dust.
Grime dimmed the floor. Sheer, lacy webs surrounded unlit candles in the chandelier above her. Despite their linen coverings, Elizabeth could see that a large bed sat in the center of the room along with several chests and a large wardrobe.
After the initial mustiness of the chamber permeated her senses, Elizabeth also thought she detected the faint scent of cinnamon. Lucius? Could this have once been his chamber before he'd left to join the Templars? Had his family closed the entire wing, waiting to reopen it again once he returned?
The walls of the room were bare of tapestries. The only adornment was hidden behind a linen cloth, just like all the other furnishings.
Elizabeth paused before the cloth. For some reason she needed to see what lay hidden beneath. Gripping the corner of the dust-covered cloth, her heart rate quickened as she pulled the cloth away. Her astonished gaze swept the painting from top to bottom. Unbelievable. Nay, it could not be. "Who did this?" she whispered into the void of silence surrounding her.
She could not tear her gaze from the painting of herself reclining on a padded settee, wearing nothing but a slip of the Carrick tartan that covered her from the rise of her breasts to the tops of her thighs. She should have been offended by such a seductive display. Instead a warmth centered in her core and her breath hitched.
She'd never posed for such a work. Even so, the artist had flattered her. Long dark lashes veiled her large brown eyes, and her long tawny hair cascaded loose about her shoulders. Her expression was alive with humor and mischief.
She looked radiant, and decadent, and beautiful, but for whom?
Chapter Six
In the dim light of the chamber, Elizabeth stepped up to the painting. She had to know who had created the image of her. Had the artist signed the piece? As she drew near, she noted a dark scrawl in the right-hand corner. Holding her breath, she bent close: L.C.
Her heart stumbled in her chest. Why would he do such a thing, and from his memory, unless…? She couldn't finish the thought. Something warmed her inside.
Elizabeth stepped back from the painting with a smile and headed from the room. Since the moment she arrived here, she'd done everything wrong. She'd assumed she had no choice but force the issue of their marriage.
In that moment, a whole new world opened itself to her, a world where she was not destined to be in love with a man who would never love her back. Before she saw the painting she'd had no hope that he cared. But why else would he paint this portrait of her, especially wearing almost nothing at all, unless…?
She found herself going back over it all—over everything that had happened since she arrived. Lucius's words said one thing. His actions said another. The confidence she'd lacked earlier in the day suddenly filled her.
She would fight for a future with the man she loved. She would stay for two more days and expose whatever demons he'd brought back with him to this place. The only chance they had was for him to realize that a new future awaited him if he'd only allow himself to move past his
A shaft of sunlight drew Elizabeth's attention to a place halfway down the hall. At the closed doorway she paused with her hand on the latch, suddenly suffering an odd premonition that she would be better off to leave this room alone. Yet her curiosity won over as she ignored the warning and pushed the latch down.
A musty scent assaulted her as she took her first step inside. A single window cast a bright splash of light into the center of the room, yet left the rest of the chamber in hazy shadow. Elizabeth took another step forward, then another, passing by furnishings that were covered with linen as well as cobwebs and dust.
Grime dimmed the floor. Sheer, lacy webs surrounded unlit candles in the chandelier above her. Despite their linen coverings, Elizabeth could see that a large bed sat in the center of the room along with several chests and a large wardrobe.
After the initial mustiness of the chamber permeated her senses, Elizabeth also thought she detected the faint scent of cinnamon. Lucius? Could this have once been his chamber before he'd left to join the Templars? Had his family closed the entire wing, waiting to reopen it again once he returned?
The walls of the room were bare of tapestries. The only adornment was hidden behind a linen cloth, just like all the other furnishings.
Elizabeth paused before the cloth. For some reason she needed to see what lay hidden beneath. Gripping the corner of the dust-covered cloth, her heart rate quickened as she pulled the cloth away. Her astonished gaze swept the painting from top to bottom. Unbelievable. Nay, it could not be. "Who did this?" she whispered into the void of silence surrounding her.
She could not tear her gaze from the painting of herself reclining on a padded settee, wearing nothing but a slip of the Carrick tartan that covered her from the rise of her breasts to the tops of her thighs. She should have been offended by such a seductive display. Instead a warmth centered in her core and her breath hitched.
She'd never posed for such a work. Even so, the artist had flattered her. Long dark lashes veiled her large brown eyes, and her long tawny hair cascaded loose about her shoulders. Her expression was alive with humor and mischief.
She looked radiant, and decadent, and beautiful, but for whom?
Chapter Six
In the dim light of the chamber, Elizabeth stepped up to the painting. She had to know who had created the image of her. Had the artist signed the piece? As she drew near, she noted a dark scrawl in the right-hand corner. Holding her breath, she bent close: L.C.
Her heart stumbled in her chest. Why would he do such a thing, and from his memory, unless…? She couldn't finish the thought. Something warmed her inside.
Elizabeth stepped back from the painting with a smile and headed from the room. Since the moment she arrived here, she'd done everything wrong. She'd assumed she had no choice but force the issue of their marriage.
In that moment, a whole new world opened itself to her, a world where she was not destined to be in love with a man who would never love her back. Before she saw the painting she'd had no hope that he cared. But why else would he paint this portrait of her, especially wearing almost nothing at all, unless…?
She found herself going back over it all—over everything that had happened since she arrived. Lucius's words said one thing. His actions said another. The confidence she'd lacked earlier in the day suddenly filled her.
She would fight for a future with the man she loved. She would stay for two more days and expose whatever demons he'd brought back with him to this place. The only chance they had was for him to realize that a new future awaited him if he'd only allow himself to move past his
Similar Books
