Page 115 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

The next morning, Claire stirred with a yawn.

It had taken her some time to settle down enough to go back to sleep after her encounter with the earl.

Her body was humming, as if he had poured liquid fire into the center of her stomach, and a strange pulsing was throbbing at her core.

She wondered if she was coming down with some sort of ailment and she prayed that wasn’t the case.

If the earl was intent about sending her away this morning, she didn’t want to suffer on the tiring journey back to London.

Especially if she had to walk back to the village.

Ensuring that all of her things were packed, she donned the same gown that she’d worn the night before and glanced at the clock. And looked again.

It read one in the afternoon.

She reached out and snatched the mantel clock and held it to her ear. It was ticking, but that hour couldn’t possibly be right. She never slept this late and certainly not when she was visiting with a client—even if she had been ordered to leave at first light.

Securing her hair into a neat knot at the nape of her neck, Claire considered leaving her belongings in the room, but after the earl’s temperament last night, she didn’t hold out much faith that he might have changed his mind that she should stay.

She took a peek over the landing of the mezzanine and saw that the great hall was devoid of the earl, but the butler was there and offered her a warm greeting when she descended the stairs. “Good day, Tobin,” she said politely.

He glanced at her traveling valise with a slight frown. “I hope you’re not planning to travel in this weather.”

“The earl made his sentiments crystal clear last evening. I don’t wish to cause further discord within the house.”

“Perhaps not,” he said as he walked over to one of the drapery-covered windows and drew one back. “But you won’t be making it far in this.”

Her jaw went slack when she saw the snow piled up in the middle of the yard with more coming down in large flakes. According to the gray skies it didn’t appear as though it would be letting up any time soon. “Oh. My.” She was rather speechless, not quite sure what to say.

“My thoughts exactly.” She turned as Lord Darville strode into the room.

He was leaning heavily on an ivory tipped cane and collapsed into a chair by the fire.

From this angle, his mossy gaze pinned her in place like a helpless butterfly under a magnifying glass.

“In spite of my continued efforts to be left in peace for the remainder of my days and the fact that the gentlemanly honor that was drilled into my skull from the time of birth refuses to completely abate, I find myself at the mercy of Mother Nature. And you, since it appears you will be staying with us for a while. At least until this storm subsides enough for a carriage to make it to the house.”

Claire wanted to be glad for her victory, but she wasn’t sure if it was more of a curse at this point.

Thus far, the earl had not given her any chance to even examine his leg and when she’d finally had the chance to minister to him the night before, he had been in such a foggy delirium that all he’d wanted to do was frighten her away with his advances.

And it had almost worked. But not for the reasons he might have intended.

She found it difficult to look at him directly because she was more aware of him as a virile man than when she’d arrived. Injury or not, he was still intimidating and he unnerved her. “I’m sorry to trouble you further, my lord.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She did glance at him now and saw the light of mockery flickering in his gaze. “You think me to be insensitive to your wellbeing?”

“You would be surprised to know what I’m thinking, Miss Meyer.”

It was the soft way he spoke, the teasing, flirtatious rake that surprised her.

She hadn’t been expecting it. She had no doubt that the gruff exterior of ‘Darkville’ was still present and would return at any moment.

In truth, she preferred that side of the earl.

She could handle anger and frustration. With the healing processes she exhibited, it was expected. But not this.

Not… seduction.

“Tobin, bring Miss Meyer a luncheon tray and some tea.”

Claire almost started because she’d nearly forgotten the butler’s presence.

Her face heated slightly as the earl beckoned her to sit in the chair opposite him.

She hesitated, gauging the distance between the two items of furniture and decided that to refuse him would do nothing to help her chances to get him to see reason.

She moved forward and sat primly, her back straight, her hands clasped together in her lap.

He immediately snorted. “Relax, Miss Meyer. I will not attack you indirectly out of spite, no matter what you might think of me.”

It was the slight inflection in his voice, the possible regret that he was viewed as some sort of monster, that had her relenting her pose.

She leaned back and got more comfortable amidst a brief pause where the only sound was the ticking of the mantel clock and the occasional pop and rustle in the fireplace as the wood settled.

“What did you do to me last night?”

Her nerves went taut and her focus shot to him. “Pardon?”

He continued to adopt the same lazy pose, but she could sense the tension in him to know that it was only a facade.

The way he gripped his cane with a tight, white-knuckle grip proved that much.

“My leg.” His brow furrowed and his focus dropped to the limb in question. She wondered if he even realized it.

“Why do you say that?”

“It felt… different. For the first time in years, and without the use of laudanum or alcohol, I was able to rest. It was a novel experience.”

A flicker of excitement shot through her, and she slowly sat back up. “That is good, isn’t it?” It was important that she tread carefully here.

“It was… different.”

If that was all he would say to admit she had helped him, then she would take it. It was a start, and one that she hadn’t thought she would be granted at all.

After more stilted silence, Tobin reappeared with the requested tray. He set it on the side table between them and offered a slight bow as he took his leave.

Claire reached for the tea and noticed there was only one cup and one plate beneath the steaming silver cover. She glanced at him. “Are you not eating?”

“I already did.”

Oh, dear. She feared this was going to be awkward.

She was glad to see that the main course was some sort of soup with bread and cheese on the side.

Other than the tea there were a few bits of fruit and scones for dessert.

As she was pouring her tea, she said, “Are you certain you don’t want to partake of some of this?

I’m not sure I can eat everything.” Her stomach abruptly chose that annoying moment to growl.

He chuckled, and she found the sound very pleasing. “It would seem that is a protest.” He leaned his head back against the chair and proceeded to close his eyes. “When you are finished, we will speak at length.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that Miss Meyer was uncertain about consuming her fare in front of him when he wasn’t doing the same, so he decided to have pity on her and attempt to act as though he wasn’t aware of her every movement. He most certainly was.

All morning his gaze had wandered to the mezzanine where her bedchamber door was visible. He’d wanted to wake her to see those hypnotic blue eyes searching his once more and perhaps offer a kiss to the sleeping beauty in his dark castle.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t some romantic fairy tale in the making.

If anything, it was a nightmare that had come to reality.

For her, at least. For him, it was as if the sun had finally broken through the clouds at long last. It was the warmth of long-lost emotions fluttering in the center of his black heart.

He’d told himself that he didn’t want her here, but when he’d awoke that morning and his leg hadn’t stabbed him relentlessly and he’d actually slept, he had nearly wept with the relief of it all.

It had been too long since he’d experienced any kind of comfort after the war.

His body and his mind had suffered in equal amounts until last night.

It was as if he’d experienced a sudden revelation.

And he was finding himself thankful that he had been that tortured animal in the night or else he would have never roused her and learned what sort of magic she possessed with her fingers.

With his eyes closed now, it was easy enough to recount the events of the previous night, the areas where he hadn’t acted like some sort of crazed brute. He vividly recalled the feel of her soft, feminine curves beneath his palms and how he’d wanted to explore them at length.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

She had been a sight to behold, the rosy tips of her nipples easily visible through the thin cotton of her nightdress.

But it was her hair, black as the night, fanned out like some enchanting raven’s wing sent to bewitch him for all eternity that had truly arrested him.

In less than a full day, this woman had found a way to weave a spell around him that he feared he was already becoming ensnared in.

She was dangerous and everything that he had stood against since his injury.

The dream that he could be normal again, but he knew that to be impossible. Unattainable.

“I’m finished.”

He cracked open his eyes to see that she was sitting nearly as primly as before.

And he yearned to remove the pins from her hair and see that dark cloud return.

He would slide his hand around to the back of her head and with exquisite patience, bring her lips to his where they would engage in a fiery kiss.

He withheld a sigh.

It would be a perfect scenario in a different world. But sadly, not in this hell that he lived in.

He concentrated on reconnecting to the unfairness of a life stripped away much too early.

“I understand you’ve made friends with my servants in the span of one evening. At this rapid rate, they will likely be calling you their mistress by this time tomorrow.”

She lifted her chin a slightly defiant notch. “Was it wrong to be friendly and possibly, earn some allies?”

He laughed, the sound escaping with a bitter tone. “Not at all. It was admirable of you to attempt to use them to get to me. Many have tried and failed, and yet, you still believe that you can change me.”

She tilted her head to the side. “In all honesty, my lord, I don’t want to change you. I merely want to improve your current situation by a new method of practice.”

He folded his hands and rested them on his abdomen. “Tell me, where have you gained your knowledge?”

“In Stockholm at the Royal Central Institute of Gymnastics. My father has always been interested in the study of physical abnormalities and discovered the teachings of Pehr Henrik Ling. For the past few years, he worked side-by-side with Mr. Ling. After a time, he encouraged society the importance of bodily movement and employed the ideals he’d learned and opened the Institute.

My father employed these exercises nearly every day and I was finally able to come and observe and record some of the methods of instruction. ”

Ethan lifted a brow. “I’m surprised your father allowed such a progressive education rather than focusing on embroidery and watercolors.”

She offered a tentative smile. “My father always had a singular mind. My mother died when I was young, and with no other female relation to guide me through society, he paid for tutors to ensure I had a proper education, but when he realized I would rather travel the continent and I was interested in the same subjects he was, it wasn’t difficult to coerce him to take me along.

The issue was generally being accepted by the other men he conversed with.

They didn’t always take too kindly to a woman taking part in their daily routines. ”

“I imagine not,” Ethan murmured, finding himself interested about her upbringing more than he should be.

He certainly hadn’t met anyone else like her.

Most women were concerned with fashion and the latest on dits in society.

And yet, here was Miss Meyer hoping to change the world.

Or at least the few patients who agreed to let her minister these new remedies of healing.

Ethan grinned in spite of himself. While he didn’t hold out much hope that anything she administered to him would work, he found the idea of staying close to her quite agreeable. “Very well, Miss Meyer. Let’s get started.”