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Both men were easily six and a half feet tall, with powerfully wide shoulders, tapered waists, and long, long legs.

They were probably aged in their early to midthirties, their handsome faces appearing as if they had been carved from one of the sheer rock faces of the mountain behind their home.

Lachlan had piercing silver-gray eyes; Ranulf’s were a deep, dark green.

Zoey knew what color the men’s eyes were because she had found herself unable to look away from either of them as she said her goodbyes to Belle. There was something about the two men that held Zoey enrapt.

Something more .

It was hard to explain, but the longer Zoey had stared at the Drake brothers, the more she had become aware of the aura of power that surrounded them.

As if, despite their already impressive height and size, they were somehow bigger still.

Zoey had felt as if there was something more to both of them than what could be seen with the naked eye.

Having met two of the Drake brothers, Zoey was no longer surprised that Belle, who until now she had always thought of as being a little prudish, had accepted the invitation to recover in the home of such overwhelmingly gorgeous men.

Lachlan, of the silver eyes, the brother who had rescued Belle, had seemed especially solicitous toward her.

Zoey’s decision to come down to Cornwall a week after returning from Scotland had been completely on impulse. Possibly because the London house had seemed so very empty without Belle’s and Ben’s presence.

The latter was very much a painful reminder of the recent tragedy, although Belle had sent a text letting them know that the funeral had taken place, quietly and privately as the family had wished, three days ago.

Hopefully, this would now allow the McGregor family to start the process of closure and healing from their terrible loss.

Zoey couldn’t claim that she and Ben had been close friends. But it was impossible not to feel some degree of mourning after the death of one of the five other people she had shared a house with for the past year.

During term time, at least. Zoey usually spent all the holidays in Cornwall. Although this year, it had been a relief to escape the stilted atmosphere of Tregarthen House to take the train to Scotland for Hogmanay.

Ben’s death had been a tragic end to that holiday, and returning to the house in London had felt just as oppressive, which was why Zoey had decided to come to Cornwall, if only for a day or so before uni started again.

“Come,” was the abrupt, and predictable, response seconds after Zoey had knocked on the study door. Knocked and waited, because she knew Edgar did not appreciate people bursting into his study without an invitation.

The study smelled of the familiar pipe tobacco and leather.

The former was because Edgar Wallis allowed himself precisely three pipefuls of the sweet-smelling tobacco every day.

The latter because the chair behind the imposing desk and the couch in front of the window were both upholstered with a dark brown leather, which Mrs. Chenoweth made sure was dusted with a soft cloth and appropriately conditioned every few months to keep the leather supple.

Leather-bound books also lined three of the walls, with a huge bay window dominating the fourth one.

“Goodness, it’s dark in here,” Zoey exclaimed, noting the only light in the gloom of the room came from the green desk lamp as she hurriedly crossed the room to roll up the blind covering the window. It immediately let in the soft gray light from outside.

She turned to face the man behind the desk. A man, despite the fact that he was sitting, she knew to be a couple of inches short of six feet tall. He had light brown hair turning to gray at his temples, and faded blue eyes behind the glasses he wore.

At the moment, he was looking up and over them at her. “Good God, Zoey, is there a color of the rainbow you aren’t wearing today?” He closed the small book he had been reading and slipped it into one of the side pockets of his tweed jacket.

There was no how wonderful to see you, what a lovely surprise or I wasn’t expecting you, is there a problem or possibly you’re looking very pale, my dear, is there something wrong , or even just the is there something wrong would have done!

But, raw as her emotions might currently be, Zoey knew she was being silly to expect any other reaction from the man in front of her.

Edgar Wallis didn’t do ‘concern.’ He only dealt in facts, and the fact was, Zoey hadn’t let him know she would be coming down today. Nor had she chosen to wear the more traditional clothing she usually did when visiting Tregarthen House.

But she was very pale. She dared anyone who had very recently witnessed the heartache and shock of the death of someone as young as Ben not to be.

As for the colorful clothing she had on, after those few days of wearing the most somber clothing she had taken with her to Scotland, out of respect toward Ben’s grieving family, Zoey had been wearing the most colorful clothing she possessed since returning to London a week ago.

Today, she had chosen to wear violet-colored dungarees with yellow daisies and green leaves on the bib, with a bright orange sweater beneath, along with blue high-top Converse. All colors which clashed abominably with her red hair.

“It’s lovely to see you too, Uncle Edgar! But if we’re being pedantic”—which she knew Edgar invariably was—“then I believe I’m missing indigo from the rainbow spectrum,” she added brightly as she bent slightly and he allowed her to kiss him on one of his thin cheeks.