Page 17 of A Touch for All Time (For All Time #3)
A ria descended the stairs the next morning with the marquess on her mind. It hadn’t been any better during the night in bed trying to sleep. She may have fallen asleep for a minute or two but dreams of him opened her eyes and made her breath quicken. The scariest part was that she was disappointed when she woke up and he wasn’t there, in her bed, staring at her with his lagoon-colored eyes as if she was his and he loved her beyond reason. She could close her eyes now and feel his fingers tracing her jaw, her chin, her lips.
It wasn’t real. It would never be real. Once they found the key and the closer she came to opening the last door in the castle, the closer she came to finding a way home. If the door wasn’t here, she’d search every inch of the forest. She thought of her dear brother. Conn had had such a zeal for life. Now, he was an empty shell. Her heart broke as it had all night every time she thought of the key. They had to find it.
And what if she did get home? Who would believe that she’d traveled back to the past and met a man who could communicate with animals? He could. She had no doubts anymore. He’d clearly been communicating with the giant raven last night when the bird flew into his room. She still had trouble coming to terms with it. He did have some responsibility in the Gable’s father’s death. When he was ten. No wonder he had not only stopped communicating with the animals, but he had also convinced himself none of his memories of them were real and let himself forget them. Would she forget Gray? She had no picture of him. If she spoke of him, they would admit her into a mental hospital. It would be as if he never existed.
Should she turn around and go search for the key again? Should she rush to the marquess? She’d run into Elspeth Gable when she left her room and was advised that Sarah was in the dining hall with the marquess.
Uncomfortable with Sarah and the marquess together, Aria hurried forward toward the hall. Even as she went though, she realized they would spend more time together after she left. Sarah would likely have his seven sons. Ugh! She wanted to slap her palm into her head. She had no right to be jealous—
She looked up from the wall she’d walked into and found Timothy Cavendish smiling down at her. She truly didn’t like him. He didn’t seem as if he’d changed much in fifteen years. He was still a sniveling bully-wanna-be.
“Ah, Miss Darling,” he greeted with a sneer. That was another one of the things she didn’t like about him. He didn’t smile. He sneered. “No doubt, you are looking for my brother.”
She refrained from reminding him that Gray wasn’t his brother. She was thankful for it, too. “I’m on my way to the dining hall. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Cavendish.”
“It is truly a shame, Miss Darling,” he said when she stepped around him and continued on her way.
She knew she shouldn’t have, but she stopped. “What is?”
“You are standing on the wrong side. I could give you everything and more.”
Her jaw almost dropped as she turned to him. Was he really—? No, yuck. She couldn’t finish the thought. All at once she saw him without his ugly personality to get in the way. His long dark hair was curled around his ears and the rest in the back was twisted into a thin braid. His eyes were dark gray and too small on either side of his long, pointy nose. His permanently mocking lips were thin like two worms.
“I assure you, you have nothing I want.”
“That was the wrong thing to say, Miss.”
She took a step closer to him and glared at him through narrow eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
He loosened the knot of his cravat. “You sound quite confident in your boldness. What makes you so? Hmm? Do you think the marquess will protect you from the worst that can happen?”
She curled her hands into fists even as her heart thumped hard in her ears. “And what’s the worst that can happen, Mr. Cavendish?”
“Remember, Miss,” he said with a taunting curl to his lips, “you chose the wrong side.”
She watched him go, glad he was getting out of her sight. What a loser, she thought as she set course for the great hall once again. Should she tell Gray that he threatened her? No, she didn’t want to leave them pitted against each other even more than they already were.
She finally reached the dining hall doors and pulled them open. She hated entering alone with all eyes on her. She wished the marquess had waited for her.
With a slight shrug, she stepped inside. Her gaze sailed immediately to the small crowd in the northwest corner. A dozen women pushed in around a man standing by one of the windows. The marquess.
The ladies all giggled, sounding like turkeys waiting to be fed.
Aria huffed a little and ventured closer. If he was saying something funny, shouldn’t she hear it since he barely cracked a smile most of the time?
“Oh, Lord Dartmouth, the good Lord was certainly smiling on the day you were born.”
Aria scowled at the red-head and her perfect curls like grape vines hanging over her ears.
“With the way Lord Dartmouth dances, I do not think the Almighty had anything to do with him.”
Against her will, Aria recalled him dancing, grinding his hips in the air and smiling at the crowd as if he were grinding them into something else.
“Clare!” Two of the ladies admonished. “Do not say such blasphemous things.”
“Will you dance for us now, my lord?” one wench called out.
“Yes, please do!” cried another.
Aria fumed. Was he the most careless man she had ever met? Didn’t she warn him last night that he needed rest? Was he really going to dance for these hens? What about her key? What about Mr. Cavendish’s threats? So what if she wasn’t going to mention them to the marquess. It still bothered her. And now she was supposed to watch him dance—
“Sadly, ladies, I’ve been warned not to dance for a few days.”
Aria’s heart warmed—just a little. At least he was taking her advice.
“Warned by who?” one of the hens clucked.
“A frightening woman who can fell any man in this hall,” the marquess quipped and took a step forward, parting the crowd of women. He saw Aria and smiled. Every lady surrounding them, including Sarah, stared agape. Was the marquess truly, genuinely smiling at someone? A woman?
Suddenly their stunned expressions turned sour.
One of them whispered as he passed them on his way to Aria. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, his smile still intact but with a touch of ice. “Lady Millicent, see yourself out, and don’t return.
“Pardon me, my lord?” Lady Millicent balked.
She said a few other things, but Gray didn’t pay attention to her. He kept his eyes on Aria as he started back toward her, and all she could do was feel thankful that he didn’t treat her with such disregard. Then again, she hadn’t called another woman a derogatory name, and simply because the marquess smiled at her.
“Good morn to you, Lady Aria,” he greeted in front of the others and let his smile linger on her.
There was something about him saying her name. Even with the courteous title of Lady, her name sounded personal when he spoke it. If she liked the way he called her Miss Darling , her first name felt like an intimate caress. How could she be so angry with him a minute ago, and now she was fawning all over him for saying her name? Ridiculous! The heart certainly was a traitorous thing.
“You’re certainly at home with an audience,” she remarked, looking him over from head to foot.
His smile remained and he even added a quiet chuckle to it. From the corner of her eye, Aria saw Sarah Gable wiping her eyes and smiling.
“I was questioning them about the whereabouts of my key.”
His explanation pulled Aria’s full attention to him. At times, like now, he was incredibly impossible to read. “Thank you,” she said, speaking what was immediately on her heart.
His smile warmed and then he shifted his gaze to the gaping women watching him. “Have a pleasant day, ladies,” he said dismissively.
They all scattered, and watching, he shook his head, then looked up from under his black hair. “None claim to have seen it. I’m waiting for Harper to arrive. She may have found it in the sitting room after you left her and then couldn’t find you when I took you to my solar.”
But they hadn’t gone straight to the solar, had they? Harper could have found them with a quick search. But Aria didn’t speak her thoughts. He was already defending the woman who had raised him on her sister’s behalf.
“I worry that because it’s made of gold, it won’t be returned,” she told him and sat when he offered her the seat.
“I thought of that,” he agreed, sitting next to her. “No one here will keep what belongs to me. I’ve spread the news through those women. I lost the key my beloved grandmother gave me. I will reward them handsomely if they find it and return it to me or punish them if they find it and think to keep it. Everyone will hear of it within the hour.” He grinned at her when he was done.
Aria shook her head in disbelief and a touch of admiration and smiled back. “You’re clever.”
“It means you will have to wait a bit longer to go home.”
“Another day shouldn’t hurt,” she said, shocking both herself and him. “We should find the key by tomorrow. How come you haven’t demanded it back from me? It is yours and it is solid gold.”
He thought about it for a moment. His tea was served, and he sipped it. Aria shifted in her seat. Was he going to answer? She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t.
“My grandmother told me it would heal me, and she told me something else, but I can’t remember what it was. She had said whatever it was and gave me the key the day she left me. I always thought of her when I looked at the key. I began to hate to look at it. I only just remembered her telling me the key would heal me. She must have known about my future. What else would I need to be healed from? She knew and she still left.”
Aria put out her hand and rested it on his leg—more toward his thigh than his knee. She hadn’t meant to touch him. She pulled away, her eyes wide and repentant.
He leaned in. “Miss Darling,” he said in a quiet tone that sent ripples through her blood, “I give you permission to touch me.”
If she could have turned pale enough to become transparent, she would have. She didn’t know where to look. She didn’t want to stop at touching him. It made her want to cry how much she wanted to dance with him, be touched by him, kissed by him, undressed—
Something warm covered her other hand, breaking through her thoughts like a hammer. She looked to see the hand that had taken hers wasn’t Gray’s.
Will. He must have slipped into the chair on the other side of her. She pulled her hand free and put it in her lap with its twin. Gray was staring at Will as if he were thinking of ways to tear Will apart, beginning with his head.
“My lord,” she whispered, hoping to calm him.
His gaze dipped to hers. “My lord? What happened to you calling me by my Christian name? Gray. Remember?”
She wanted to pinch his arm. He’d given her permission to touch him, hadn’t he?
She could feel Will’s eyes on her. She slid her gaze to his for a quick look. When their eyes met, he reached for her again.
Gray’s arm shot out like a snake and snatched her fingers away before Will touched them. His eyes blazed with warning.
Aria sighed and pulled away from both of them. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.
“Will, have I given you permission to touch me whenever you wish?” She motioned to the marquess. “He learned the hard way. Do you want to be next?”
“Then why do his fingers still rest atop yours?” Will asked.
Aria looked down at Gray’s fingers, and then at him. The instant her eyes met his, he smiled. It felt as if a warm breeze swept over her, through her. Grayson Barrington was so much more than the duke’s mad son. She wanted to find out how much more. “Because I have given him permission.”
Will sputtered for a moment. Aria felt awful. He’d been nothing but kind to her. But she’d made herself unavailable to him, hadn’t she? Could she have done more?
“Will, I—”
“Gable, have a drink.” Before Will could accept or refuse, the marquess called to one of the servants to bring another cup.
“You should not have stayed here with him,” Will said, ignoring Gray’s offer and sounding as if his heart was in his throat.
Aria peeked at the marquess. He didn’t appear to be angry, but she was learning not to trust his expressions.
“I would not have let Harry throw you out,” Will continued.
“Will,” Sarah reached the table and took her brother by the arm, “come away now. You have troubled our lord enough.”
“Did you know about them?” Will demanded, pushing his sister’s hand away.
Aria caught the slightest wrinkle of the marquess’ nose. It lifted his upper lip and made it look like he was showing his teeth. At Will.
“Brother,” Sarah said, quickly recognizing the danger to her brother, “let’s not interfere with them, hmm? We will lose. He will not give her up.”
Sarah said the last thing in a hushed voice, but Aria heard her. She was wrong about the marquess not giving Aria up. What could he do? What would he do? They hadn’t agreed on anything between them. They both knew what was coming.
Still, Aria considered, looking away, would he stop her from leaving by taking the key?
She didn’t want to think such a thing about him. He wasn’t mad—and he wasn’t a bad guy, despite what he believed he was responsible for as a child. No. He wouldn’t have stolen the key, trying to stop her from being reunited with her family. She turned her attention back to him. He gave her a bit of a concerned look, as if he feared Sarah’s statement had upset her.
She winked at him to reassure him. He turned into something like a soft teddy bear before her eyes, his gaze warm and his smile wide.
None of them noticed Harper approaching, her gaze fastened on the marquess, her soft smile growing into a look of astonishment—until it settled on Will. “Mr. Gable, please pay heed to your sister’s wise words. I’ve never seen the marquess so happy. He will only let her go for one thing, and it isn’t you.”
The thankful look Gray flicked to Harper didn’t escape Aria’s notice. He was trying to behave as civilized as he could…for Aria. She could tell he remained calm for her sake by the way he chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced at her numerous times.
“Will,” Aria said. He was having a difficult time because of her. She wanted to handle it herself and not have Harper or Gray do it for her. “When I search the rest of the doors, I’ll make certain you’re here.”
He breathed out a great, silent sigh and nodded. “When will that be?”
“Well, I lost the key, so as soon as—”
“You lost the key?” Will gaped at her. “Did you lose it or was it stolen?”
Aria could sense the marquess’ patience nearing an end. “It would have had to be stolen while on me. It wasn’t. It must have fallen out of my pocket somewhere. We’re searching,” she added quickly when he opened his mouth. “We will find it.”
He nodded, but Aria could see the doubtful tug of his brow. “Very well. I must finish building three tables today so I will leave you if I must.”
The growling bear that was the marquess roused and rose to his feet. “Gable—”
“You better go then, Will,” Aria smiled and stepped between him and the marquess.
When he left them, Sarah turned to the marquess. “My brother is a good man.”
The marquess slid his gaze to Sarah and took his seat again. “That’s why despite him insulting me in my own house, I let him leave with his head atop his neck.”
Aria wished he wouldn’t say such things, especially about Will, but Will’s sister smiled and curtsied. “You are very kind, my lord.”
Kind? Well, Aria pondered, maybe he was very kind. What would other lords of their castles do?
“You wouldn’t hurt Will, would you?” Aria asked him. She thanked the young man who served them—and Harper when she took a seat opposite the marquess—fresh eggs, baked bread and warm porridge.
“Do you like him?” Aria asked him hopefully.
“No. I like his sister.”
“Hmm? What?” Aria asked, lowering her spoon to her bowl.
“Sarah,” he said, as if he had to clarify. He didn’t.
“Right. You like her?”
He nodded and set about eating. “She’s like a little sister to me.”
“A little sister?” she echoed.
He forgot his food and stared at her. “Are you jealous?”
She nodded, not bothering to conceal the truth, not even caring that Harper sat with them and was listening—and probably judging her. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
The marquess grinned at her.
Harper’s spoon paused for the briefest of moments.
“Harper tells me that jealousy involves the heart.”
Harper continued to eat and didn’t lift her gaze to the marquess when he spoke.
Aria knew she was listening. She turned her attention to the pretty older woman. “Were you speaking of the marquess’ heart?”
The marquess gave out a short burst of mocking laughter, and then without a word in his defense, grew sober.
Aria smiled inwardly. In fact, like some high schooler, her heart fluttered and flipped at the thought of him being jealous.
“Harper,” the marquess said, “you heard Miss Darling’s key is lost. Please use everything at your disposal to find it.”
Harper asked a few questions, like when Aria saw it last and agreed to have the sitting room searched from top to bottom.
“There you are!” They turned to the entryway to see Eloise Barrington gliding toward them, chin up, hands held aloft as if she might get contaminated if anything nearby touched her. “Grayson, your father has insisted on a marriage ball to find you a wife. I did my best to postpone it, but he wants to secure an heir through you.”
“I’m sure you fought him tooth and nail.”
“Of course, I fought him,” she answered him candidly. “An heir makes my Timothy one step further away from the duke.”
Aria opened her mouth to tell this horrible woman that she wouldn’t stand for any threats against the marquess or his future children. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Gray watching her with quiet fascination lighting his turquoise eyes. Whatever she wanted to say to his stepmother faded like dark smoke on a cloudless, breezy day. She was going to miss the way he unabashedly stared at her.
“Hmm,” his stepmother followed his gaze. “Perhaps there is no need for a ball now that Miss Darling from York has graced our home.”
“What makes you say that?” Gray asked her in a tone like cool steel. He turned his steady gaze on the older woman and waited while she sputtered a bit—much like her son.
“The way you were looking at her…”
He lifted his brows, urging her to continue.
“…it just seemed as if you…had an…interest in her direction.” At her last words, her temper flared, and she spoke with a bit tauter boldness. She produced a handheld fan from somewhere on herself, snapped it open, and waved it in front of her face.
“You can tell my father that the only thing I’ll be doing at his marriage ball is mocking him for being such a poor example of a husband.”
The duke’s wife expelled a short laugh. “What are you talking about? Your father is fine—”
“I’m not talking about you, Eloise.” It wasn’t just his words that sounded like acid spilling merrily from his lips, but the snarl he aimed at her revealed that he was almost at the end of his patience. “He made his first wife hate being a wife and mother and drove her away. But I’ll tell everyone all about it at the ball. I’m sure they would all like to know how the duke used to berate his wife and then go sneak off to you. I wonder what the king will think about adultery and your marriage. He will likely have it annulled. If that happens, the only thing your Timothy will inherit will be a tin can to collect the coins for which he begs.”
“Grayson!” she gasped as if he’d kicked her in the guts.
Aria quickly realized that there were those for whom Gray had no mercy. His father’s wife was one of them.
He chuckled softly at her shock and dismay and then turned away from her as she hurried off. Aria thought she saw a trace of regret flash across his eyes. But then it was gone again. She glanced at Harper, whose empathetic gaze was fastened on Gray. The woman who raised him knew him best. She knew the aloof “madman” was really just a wounded little boy who’d lost everyone he loved, including his furry friends. Wasn’t it cruel of her to pursue any kind of relationship with him and then leave him the same way the others had? Another thought sounded out like an alarm. It was a thought that plagued and haunted her almost every waking moment. What if she could never leave? Now that her key was gone, never seeing home again was even more of a possibility. No key. No door.
“What is it?” the marquess’ soft, low voice resonated through her blood. “Are you thinking of your home?”
She nodded. “How did you know?”
“You suddenly look very melancholy.”
What other man would bother to notice a shift in her mood? Why did her heart have to be imprisoned by responsibility? If he wanted her to, she’d stay with him if her family didn’t need her. But they did.
“We’ll find the key, Aria,” he promised softly, watching a tear escape her eye and slip down her cheek.
She wondered as she wiped the tear away whether she wanted to cry for a week because she prayed he was right, or because she didn’t want him to be.