hill. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his
trousers, his eyes narrowing in memory. The house had blazed with light that
evening. It had been full of light and laughter. Everyone had been delighted to
celebrate Douglas and Susan’s wedding. He’d been pleased for them too but, as
he’d watched them swirl across the dance floor, their faces alight with
happiness, he’d been aware of a soul-deep loneliness. And then Lila had been
standing in front of him, her eyes sparkling with challenge, all but daring him
to ask her to dance.
He’d accepted the challenge, drawing her into his arms and
waltzing her onto the ballroom floor. And, for a little while, the loneliness
was gone, driven away by the flirtatious mischief in her smile. From the moment
of his arrival a few days before the wedding, she’d made no secret of finding
him intriguing. Under other circumstances, Bishop might have been inclined to
give in to temptation and take her up on the invitation in her eyes. But
beneath the invitation, there was an innocence he couldn’t ignore, even if she
hadn’t been Douglas’s sister.
He’d left the ball soon after that dance, retreating to his room
with a bottle of whiskey he had every intention of draining. He’d worked his
way just far enough down the bottle to be feeling no pain when Lila knocked on
the door. She’d said that she wanted to make sure everything was in order. With
the servants so busy with preparations for the reception, she was afraid they
might have missed some item necessary to his comfort. But there had been
something in her eyes that said that it wasn’t concern for his comfort that had
brought her to his room.
He’d reached for her and she’d come into his arms as if coming
home. In some distant part of his mind, he’d known that he should stop. They’d
both had too much to drink. He had about as much business making love to Lila Adams
as he did jumping off a cliff and expecting to fly. But the taste of her had
drowned out the small voice of reason. For a little while, he hadn’t felt so
alone.
Bishop shook his head and started back to the house. He was paying
a hell of a price for a few hours of not being alone. They both were.
He’d stayed outside longer than he’d realized, and, by the time he
got back to the house, most of the lights were out. He’d assumed that everyone
had gone to bed but, as he stepped into the foyer, the butler rose from a chair
that sat in one corner.
“Were you waiting up for me, Thomas?” Bishop asked, feeling a
twinge of guilt. “You shouldn’t have. I can find my own way around.”
“I’m sure you can, sir.” An elderly black man with the erect
carriage of a general and an arrogance to match, Thomas had been with the
Adamses all his life, taking over the position of butler from his father. On
Bishop’s last visit, Thomas had treated him with a fatherly warmth, reflecting
his gratitude for Bishop’s saving Douglas’s life. Now the chilly disapproval in
Thomas’s voice was palpable.
“Allow me to take your coat,” he said, coming forward to take the
garment as Bishop shrugged out of it.
“Thank you. Do you know where my bag ended up?”
“Certainly, Mr. McKenzie. I had it put in Miss Lila’s room.”
“Lila’s room?” Bishop’s head jerked around in shock, his eyes
meeting Thomas’s.
“Mrs. McKenzie, I suppose I should have said.” Thomas draped
Bishop’s coat over his arm.
“Does she know it’s there?” Bishop asked, his mind boggling as he
tried to imagine Lila’s reaction to finding his things in her bedroom.
“I wouldn’t know but it seems likely that she saw it when she went
up to her room.”
“I guess she would have,” Bishop murmured, looking up the broad
staircase.
“I’ll say good night then, Mr. McKenzie. Unless you need me to
show you to Mrs. McKenzie’s room.”
Bishop winced at the subtle sarcasm that infused the last
sentence. Obviously, the servants had a pretty good idea of why Lila
trousers, his eyes narrowing in memory. The house had blazed with light that
evening. It had been full of light and laughter. Everyone had been delighted to
celebrate Douglas and Susan’s wedding. He’d been pleased for them too but, as
he’d watched them swirl across the dance floor, their faces alight with
happiness, he’d been aware of a soul-deep loneliness. And then Lila had been
standing in front of him, her eyes sparkling with challenge, all but daring him
to ask her to dance.
He’d accepted the challenge, drawing her into his arms and
waltzing her onto the ballroom floor. And, for a little while, the loneliness
was gone, driven away by the flirtatious mischief in her smile. From the moment
of his arrival a few days before the wedding, she’d made no secret of finding
him intriguing. Under other circumstances, Bishop might have been inclined to
give in to temptation and take her up on the invitation in her eyes. But
beneath the invitation, there was an innocence he couldn’t ignore, even if she
hadn’t been Douglas’s sister.
He’d left the ball soon after that dance, retreating to his room
with a bottle of whiskey he had every intention of draining. He’d worked his
way just far enough down the bottle to be feeling no pain when Lila knocked on
the door. She’d said that she wanted to make sure everything was in order. With
the servants so busy with preparations for the reception, she was afraid they
might have missed some item necessary to his comfort. But there had been
something in her eyes that said that it wasn’t concern for his comfort that had
brought her to his room.
He’d reached for her and she’d come into his arms as if coming
home. In some distant part of his mind, he’d known that he should stop. They’d
both had too much to drink. He had about as much business making love to Lila Adams
as he did jumping off a cliff and expecting to fly. But the taste of her had
drowned out the small voice of reason. For a little while, he hadn’t felt so
alone.
Bishop shook his head and started back to the house. He was paying
a hell of a price for a few hours of not being alone. They both were.
He’d stayed outside longer than he’d realized, and, by the time he
got back to the house, most of the lights were out. He’d assumed that everyone
had gone to bed but, as he stepped into the foyer, the butler rose from a chair
that sat in one corner.
“Were you waiting up for me, Thomas?” Bishop asked, feeling a
twinge of guilt. “You shouldn’t have. I can find my own way around.”
“I’m sure you can, sir.” An elderly black man with the erect
carriage of a general and an arrogance to match, Thomas had been with the
Adamses all his life, taking over the position of butler from his father. On
Bishop’s last visit, Thomas had treated him with a fatherly warmth, reflecting
his gratitude for Bishop’s saving Douglas’s life. Now the chilly disapproval in
Thomas’s voice was palpable.
“Allow me to take your coat,” he said, coming forward to take the
garment as Bishop shrugged out of it.
“Thank you. Do you know where my bag ended up?”
“Certainly, Mr. McKenzie. I had it put in Miss Lila’s room.”
“Lila’s room?” Bishop’s head jerked around in shock, his eyes
meeting Thomas’s.
“Mrs. McKenzie, I suppose I should have said.” Thomas draped
Bishop’s coat over his arm.
“Does she know it’s there?” Bishop asked, his mind boggling as he
tried to imagine Lila’s reaction to finding his things in her bedroom.
“I wouldn’t know but it seems likely that she saw it when she went
up to her room.”
“I guess she would have,” Bishop murmured, looking up the broad
staircase.
“I’ll say good night then, Mr. McKenzie. Unless you need me to
show you to Mrs. McKenzie’s room.”
Bishop winced at the subtle sarcasm that infused the last
sentence. Obviously, the servants had a pretty good idea of why Lila
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