Jakob paced up and down the long gallery outside the antechamber to Desire’s room. His raging emotions needed the outlet of action, but he was trapped at his post as surely as any sentry.
He suspected, though he hadn’t shared his suspicions with Desire, that one of her household might be in league with Arscott. The attack on the sedan chair had been in the nature of an ambush planned, however hastily, in advance. No one could have predicted Desire’s sudden urge to go shopping. The steward might have been watching the house and seen them leave, but Jakob had been alert to that possibility and kept a careful watch on their surroundings. He hadn’t noticed anything untoward.
So there was a possibility that someone in Godwin House had warned Arscott he was under suspicion, and also informed him of Desire’s plans. But if that was the case, who was it? And had he acted out of misplaced, but perhaps understandable, loyalty to the man who’d ruled the household for so long—or for more sinister motives? Jakob had spent the afternoon questioning all the staff, but he hadn’t come to any certain conclusions. The only thing he knew for sure was that, while he still had doubts about the loyalty of her household, he wouldn’t leave Desire unguarded.
But he wished to God he could undo what had just happened between them. He should have soothed her after her nightmare and then left immediately. He paced up and down, angry and frustrated. His body ached with need for the fulfilment he’d denied both of them. He was tormented by vivid sensations of her body pressed against his. He’d been half out of his mind with need for her but, at the last moment, he’d regained a shred of clarity and honour. He knew Desire had just woken from a nightmare, that she was deeply hurt by Arscott’s betrayal and desperate for comfort and reassurance. It would have been dishonourable to take advantage of her vulnerability.
He paused in his pacing, honest enough to admit to himself there had been another reason for his withdrawal. If he’d made love to Desire, it would have been a commitment, a final irrevocable acceptance that his life now lay in England. There had been other women in his past, but none of them had expected more from him than a short-lived tryst. Desire needed a husband, not a lover. And if he wasn’t willing to be the first, he could not mistreat her by becoming the second.
But he knew she’d misinterpreted his action. Knew he’d compounded the wound Kilverdale had inflicted upon her six years ago. That had been the last thing he’d intended. He swivelled on his heel and strode back along the gallery. He’d tried to explain earlier, and she’d thrown her cup at him. But at that point he’d barely had his own emotions under control. He was calmer now. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until morning to talk to her?
The smell of smoke had become so commonplace that at first he hardly noticed it. But as he continued to pace, the smell grew stronger. He frowned, wondering if the wind had picked up. Was the fire once more threatening Godwin House? He turned and walked to the end of the corridor, meaning to look out of the window, but the smell of smoke decreased with every stride. He turned on his heel and went back towards Desire’s room. The scent of smoke grew stronger. He’d left the door to the antechamber open. When he went into it the smell of smoke was even stronger. Then he heard it. The deadly crackle of fire.
‘Desire!’ He crashed into her room.
Smoke billowed around him. Blinding him. Choking his lungs. He lifted his arm to protect his face. Tried to reach the flaming bed.
‘Desire!’ Terror for her drove him forward against the searing flames. If she was on the bed, she could not still be alive. But he had to be certain.
‘Desire!’ Surely she wasn’t on the bed. He turned desperately, searching the room for her. Already the flames had started to lick at the wall panels.
Was she hiding in a corner? Half-blinded by smoke-induced tears, he searched for her on the edge of the room.
He almost missed the way the smoke curled against the wall beside the fireplace, disappearing into the black shadow. But the roiling smoke had not yet filled the entire room and the walls were livid with the light of the leaping flames.
There was an dark opening in the panels.
Without hesitation he pushed through the narrow gap. Far above he could see a patch of light. Smoke coiled around his legs and body, sucked up the narrow chimney-like vent.
He felt iron bars on the side of the chimney. But when he tried to climb he stuck. His shoulders were too wide. The gap too narrow. His coat snagged on unseen hazards, holding him fast.
He wrenched out of the gap, back into the room. The fire was already climbing the walls. Plaster fell crashing from the ceiling. He fought the need to cough, knowing it would only drag more smoke into his lungs.
He ripped off his coat and shirt and shoved his pistol into the back of his belt. He pushed back into the hole and stretched his arms above his head, compressing his shoulders and pressing his arms as tight to his ears as possible.
With no room to manoeuvre, he forced himself upwards. The narrow walls scraped skin from his sides and arms. He couldn’t turn sideways. The gap between front and back was even narrower than side to side. The smoke grew thicker, suffocating in the confined space.
His mind seethed with questions. Was this the way Desire had come? How long ago? Who had started the fire? How long had it taken to gain such a hold on the bed?
He banged his chest against an iron rung. He reared away instinctively and grated his back on the rough brick behind him. He bit back a curse of frustration and anxiety. What if he stuck? He’d be of no use to Desire if he burned to death in this hellish false chimney.
Suddenly there was free space by his right elbow. He pushed and pulled himself a few more feet upwards and discovered another open panel, similar to the one in Desire’s chamber. The floor was at chest height, but he couldn’t lever himself through the gap because there was no room to turn around. He forced himself up another few feet. Then it was only a matter of stepping off one of the rungs into the room beyond.
He looked up at the hole at the top of the vent, now less than six feet away. He hesitated for barely a second. Even if he managed to squeeze his shoulders through the opening he would be a sitting target for several moments. He inserted himself through the narrow opening into the chamber. The room was already filled with choking smoke. He coughed. Stumbling over unseen hazards he reached the window by feel. He forced open the window and leant out, gulping in cleaner air. Then he heard muffled voices, coming from the roof.
Desire.
Relief filled him. She was still in a condition to talk and ask questions. He suppressed a betraying cough, and pushed further out of the window. He looked upwards, feeling for handholds. He’d climbed from decorative buttress to ivy and back again when he’d scaled the wall beneath Desire’s garden. But there was no ivy here. He’d have to rely on finding handholds in the masonry to cover the small distance to the parapet. Moving silently, he stood on the windowsill and reached up as far as possible. He could just get his fingertips over the lower part of the crenellated parapet. With his foot he felt the surface of the wall beside the window until he discovered a tiny crevice.
He paused, balancing himself carefully. Ignoring the giddying drop below him, in one smooth movement he used the toehold to give him the leverage he needed to get one hand over the parapet. He hung for a moment by one hand and the toehold. His muscles screamed at the punishment. His instincts screamed with the need for haste to reach Desire before she suffered any hurt.
He got his other hand over the parapet and hauled the full weight of his body upwards on his arms so that he could see through the crenellations of the parapet.
There was no one on the part of the roof closest to him. He straightened his arms until his waist was level with the lowest part of the crenellations and shifted his grip on the rough stones so that he could lift one leg over. After that it was easy. He crouched by the wall for a moment, locating the direction of the voices. Then, keeping low among the chimney stacks and shadows, he went towards them.
‘Down the wall?’ Desire backed as far away from Arscott as the unrelenting grip on her arm allowed. ‘You’re mad!’
‘No. He climbed up the wall. We’ll climb down. The ivy and the wall will help us.’
‘I can’t!’ But almost instantly Desire stamped down on her rising panic. If she had to, perhaps she could climb down the ivy. But once they were on the ground the chances of being discovered before they left the property rapidly diminished. She had to delay Arscott until Jakob found them.
‘Why can’t we go back the way we came?’ she said. ‘Into the second-floor chamber, the way you came? Why don’t we go that way?’ Don’t you know any more priestholes that could get us out unseen?’
She never wanted to venture into another priesthole as long as she lived, but if she could only distract or confuse Arscott…
‘Maybe.’ Without warning he dragged her away from the south-facing wall towards the east wing. He didn’t go far before he stopped, cursing.
In the grey light Desire saw thick smoke billowing from the hole beside the chimney. There was no going back that way. The smoke made no sense to her, but she had no time to think about it. A few moments later she was back by the south wall.
‘You first. Put your leg over,’ he ordered.
Her heart thudded in sheer terror. ‘I cannot.’
‘You can.’ Arscott’s face stretched into a demonic grin. ‘If I’m not to wed you, no one else will. You’ll be a bride or dead by the end of this day. Go down!’
Desire carefully swung one leg over the parapet. The rough stone scraped the bare skin of her thigh. There was no time to worry about the immodesty of her clothing, and her bare feet might make the descent a little safer.
She tested her foothold for firmness and tightened her grip on the parapet until her knuckles were white, her sinews cracking under the strain. She swung her other leg over the wall. For several, hideous, stomach-churning seconds her free foot wavered in the air, desperately seeking another foothold. Then she found a piece of jutting brickwork to support it.
‘Keep going down,’ said Arscott. With far less hesitation than Desire he climbed over the parapet until he was poised beside her.
Suddenly Desire saw a flicker of hope. If she could persuade him to keep going down faster than she did, perhaps she could scramble back over the wall to the relative safety of the roof. Whoever held the high ground had the advantage. That was one lesson never forgotten from the siege.
‘I’m stuck,’ she whispered, putting her plan into action. ‘My arms and legs won’t move.’
‘Damn. I never thought you’d be so craven-hearted,’ Arscott snarled. ‘You climbed up the chimney. Climb down the ivy the same way.’
‘I…I cannot.’ Her voice trembled, adding conviction to her words. Her toes already shrieked with pain. Her arms shook so badly she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to haul herself back over the wall. Yes. She could. She had no choice.
Very gingerly she lifted one foot and pretended to search for another foothold. Immediately she gave a soft cry, closed her eyes, and huddled back against the wall, in a simulation of terror that was not so very far from her true feelings.
‘I can’t do it,’ she sobbed. ‘There’s nowhere to put my feet. You go down. Show me where it’s safe.’
Arscott cursed again, but nevertheless climbed downwards. She heard him give a soft grunt of pain. Was that from where she’d hit his wrist earlier? Or had he been hurt in some minor way when Jakob captured him yesterday? Even if he was only a little handicapped by injury, she might be able to take advantage of it.
His hand gripped her ankle. This time her shriek of alarm was absolutely real.
‘Quiet. Relax your leg. I’ll put your foot on the next safe place.’
Desire took a deep breath. It was now or never. She tightened her grip on the parapet.
A man leant over the wall. Her breath froze in her throat, stifling her appalled scream. Before she had time to recognise Jakob, he seized her arms in two strong hands.
‘Let go,’ he ordered, his voice hoarse.
It took a long, dangerous second for her to force her hands to relax their grip. Arscott pulled on her leg. Jakob held on grimly to her arms. For several sickening heartbeats she was suspended between the two men. For a moment it seemed as if she would be torn in half before either man relinquished his prize. But then Arscott’s hand slipped from her foot and Jakob hauled her on to the roof. They fell in a heap behind the parapet. Nothing had ever been as good as the feel of Jakob’s arms around her.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No. No.’ Desire tried to cling to him, but she sensed urgency, not comfort, in his hardening muscles. He put her aside and crouched behind the parapet.
‘He has a pistol.’ A wave of new fear flooded over her. She didn’t want Jakob to take any more risks.
‘So have I.’
He rose carefully and she saw the pistol in his hand.
The door to the stairs banged open, startling both of them.
Jakob half-turned towards it and Desire heard a shot. Jakob grunted, then staggered against the low wall. Desire lunged forward, grabbing his belt and pulling him down on top of her. His weight crushed the air out of her. Then he threw himself in front of her, facing the intruder.
Desire peered over his shoulder. It was her footman Baker. The man Arscott had claimed would open the door for him. Baker held two pistols. He’d already fired one, but he levelled the other pistol directly at Jakob.
‘Mr Arscott says he’ll make me rich if you marry him,’ he said to Desire. ‘So you’d best come with me, my lady. I’d just as soon not shoot you, Colonel. But if you don’t get out of the way, I will. I haven’t anything to lose. Not after finishing off the man who was guarding Mr Arscott.’
‘Get out of the way!’ Desire shouted at Jakob. She couldn’t let him be shot. She shoved desperately at his rock-solid shoulder. When he wouldn’t move, she tried to crawl out from behind him.
‘Hurry up!’ Baker started to get nervy.
‘Anything to oblige,’ said a voice from behind the renegade footman.
Desire saw a swordstick smash down on Baker’s arm and the pistol fell out of his hand. An instant later he crumpled into a heap on the roof. She found herself staring at the Duke of Kilverdale instead.
He was magnificently dressed in his black periwig and brocade coat. His right fist was still upraised from the blow he’d delivered to the base of the footman’s skull. She could not immediately comprehend what had happened. Then she realised Kilverdale had come up behind the footman and pole-axed him.
Jakob swore softly in Swedish. Desire felt his rigid body relax as if he too had been pole-axed.
‘For once in your ramshackle life you arrived in time,’ he said to the Duke.
‘I aim but to serve.’ Kilverdale strode over to them. ‘Are you badly hurt? My lady? Jakob? Your message said Arscott was safely under guard. What happened?’
‘I’m not hurt. Jakob’s hurt.’ Desire struggled to articulate clearly. ‘He’s been shot.’
‘I wasn’t,’ he contradicted her. ‘He shot the pistol from my hand. But I think it was by accident.’ Jakob pushed himself to his feet and looked over the wall. He cursed again, this time more violently. ‘Arscott’s getting away. Catch him, Jack!’
‘Catch him? What the devil am I? The family bloodhound?’ Kilverdale demanded in exasperation.
But Desire saw him follow the direction of Jakob’s gaze and then he glanced back at Desire. Somehow she’d scrambled to her feet and he stared at her. In her overwrought condition she couldn’t begin to interpret the expression in his dark eyes.
‘Your house is on fire,’ Kilverdale said abruptly. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. Desire stared at it, not immediately understanding the reason for his action. Jakob took it.
‘You’d best get off the roof,’ said Kilverdale. ‘I’ll catch your murderous steward for you, my lady, since Jakob bungled the task. Call it recompense for past misdemeanours.’
He turned, lifted the unconscious footman over his shoulder, and disappeared down the stairs before either Jakob or Desire could respond.
‘Here.’ Jakob helped her into Kilverdale’s coat. It was too large for her, but it covered her torn chemise quite adequately.
‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered. ‘Oh.’ Her lips trembled, but she was too shocked to cry.
Jakob enfolded her into his arms and she closed her eyes, savouring the familiar, comforting feel and smell of him. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her legs weakened and only his arms around her prevented her from falling.
His hold on her tightened until it was almost painful, but she didn’t notice. If she could have burrowed any further into his embrace she would.
‘Du är trygg här, min älskade,’ he murmured. ‘You’re safe. It’s over. But we must go down.’
Before she could respond he lifted her in his arms.
‘Put me down. You’re hurt.’
‘You haven’t got any shoes on,’ he replied, carrying her to the stairs. Smoke billowed over the rooftop.
For the first time Desire became aware of the sharp, stinging pain in her bare feet, rubbed raw by the gravel and ash covering the roof. A gust of smoke blew suddenly into their path. She coughed and her eyes watered.
‘Fire!’ She twisted in Jakob’s arms towards the east wing. ‘Is my house on fire?’
‘Yes.’ Jakob carried her down the stairs. ‘Your bedchamber was ablaze when I left it.’
Desire had been battered by so many disasters that this last one seemed almost too much to bear.
‘My house,’ she whispered, clinging to Jakob.
He took her out into the garden. By now the rest of the household had discovered both the man who had been knocked unconscious by Baker when he freed Arscott, and the fire. Men ran to and fro, shouting urgently, but with little sense of purpose. When they saw her and Jakob they crowded around, shouting over the top of each in their excitement and need for direction.
‘Fenton’s got a thick skull… Arscott’s escaped… Your room, my lady… Colonel…the house… Thank God you’re safe, my lady! Colonel, what are we to do?’
Jakob set Desire down on a bench and immediately took charge. Two of Lord Halross’s footmen were given strict instructions to remain with Desire at all times. Everyone else rushed to obey Jakob’s orders.
He had put Desire down on a bench close to the west side of the south wing. After sitting quietly for a few minutes, she stood up and demanded to be taken to the injured man. To her relief, though he was unsteady on his feet, he didn’t seem to be seriously hurt by his temporary loss of consciousness. She could only be thankful that Baker had not yet learnt to pursue his ambitions as ruthlessly as Arscott. Then, despite the protests of her guards, she hobbled around to the other side of the house. From her new vantage point she could see smoke pouring out of the windows along the whole length of the first floor. The fire had already moved up to the second floor. Roaring flames devoured the whole of the east side of the house. Desire folded her arms across her stomach and nearly doubled up with grief for the loss of her home, so all encompassing she felt it as a physical pain.
‘My lady, come away,’ said one of the footman. Between them her two guards half-walked, half-carried her away from her burning house.
Night had long since fallen by the time Jakob arrived at Swiftbourne’s house. He was exhausted, his hair and clothes acrid with smoke—and he was sick at heart at the news he must bring Desire.
‘Mrs Quenell is waiting for you,’ said the porter.
‘Mrs Quenell?’ It was Desire Jakob wanted to see, but, before he could ask where she was, Athena emerged from a nearby door.
‘I thought it was your voice,’ she said. ‘Where’s Gabriel?’
‘He’ll be here soon. He’s giving the final commands to the men who’ll be on watch tonight.’
‘Good.’ A trace of anxiety eased from her eyes, to be replaced with concern. ‘You look tired.’
‘Don’t fuss.’ Jakob knew she spoke only from her affection for him, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with feminine exclamations of worry.
‘Where’s Desire?’ He consciously made an effort to soften his voice. ‘Is she with you?’ He started into the parlour Athena had just left, then stopped abruptly when he discovered it was empty.
‘Go in.’ Athena put her hands on his shoulders and pushed.
He strode forward a couple of places and swung to face her. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded.
‘In the west parlour—’
‘On her own? Why aren’t you with her?’ His eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘She shouldn’t be alone. First that villain tried to take her by force, now she’s just lost her home—’
‘Jakob.’ Athena laid her hand on his arm. ‘Before Lady Desire would agree to leave the gardens of Godwin House, she picked bundles of the plant needed for her salve. When she first arrived here, she insisted on making it for anyone who might get burned. She made pots of it.’ Athena smiled, not in amusement, but in sympathy at Desire’s desperate need to occupy herself, to feel as if she was doing something useful.
‘She said that it had helped your hands so it was bound to help others. She only stopped when there was no more butter left. We’ll be eating dry bread for days. And then I did sit with her. She tried very hard to be gracious.’ A sheen of tears glimmered in Athena’s eyes. ‘She asked me about my life in Bruges and how I make my lace. She admires me for being so well travelled and asked me about Venice…’ Athena paused.
‘It was so hard for her, Jakob,’ she said. ‘I wanted to comfort her, but she was so determined to be strong and gracious. It was kinder to leave her alone.’
Jakob pulled Athena into his arms and hugged her, just as he would have hugged one of his sisters if they had looked at him with such sad, worried eyes.
‘För bövelen! I stink of smoke!’ he exclaimed and quickly released her. ‘I can’t go to her smelling like the death of her house. Does Halross have anything I can wear?’
‘Now I know you think of him as one of the family,’ said Athena, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. ‘You and Kilverdale—you wouldn’t make free with the clothes of a man you didn’t like. Come on.’
Jakob briefly resisted her tug on his sleeve. ‘He makes you happy,’ he said. ‘Anyone with eyes can see that. Of course he is part of the family. But God help him if he ever hurts you. Then he will have me to deal with. And Kilverdale.’
Athena threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly. ‘You are my best cousins,’ she said against his chest. ‘I hope it does not take long for Kilverdale to find Arscott. I’m worried about him. Arscott is such a treacherous villain.’
Jakob laughed softly. ‘But no match for Kilverdale,’ he said, with absolute confidence in his cousin. ‘Don’t fret, he’ll be back with us soon.’ He patted her comfortingly on the shoulder and then gently disengaged himself. ‘Clean clothes,’ he reminded her.
With the smell of smoke hastily sluiced from his hair and in borrowed clothes, Jakob went to find Desire. He discovered her sitting on the window seat in the small west parlour. She’d drawn her feet up on to the seat and hugged her knees to her chest. Her head was buried between her arms and she didn’t look up when the door opened.
Jakob closed it quietly behind him. His stomach clenched in pain and sympathy for all she had lost. He dreaded the task that lay ahead of him. Godwin House had been her home and her sanctuary for so long. Arscott’s betrayal of her trust had cost her dearly.
Jakob’s hands closed unconsciously into fists. He bitterly regretted Arscott’s escape. Now that the fire at Godwin House was under control, his instinct was to follow Kilverdale in the hunt for the treacherous steward. He wanted the pleasure of bringing Arscott to justice himself. But Kilverdale had his own reasons for avenging the wrong done to Desire. Jakob recognised in his cousin the need to make amends for what she’d overheard him say. Desire’s need was to have her friends close by her, to console and to protect her.
He walked across the room to stand a few feet away from her. She still didn’t look up. Her hunched body was silent and withdrawn, so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t know he was there. The strength of his reaction to her grief stunned him. He felt her pain like a physical wound within him. He reached towards her, compelled by the need to give and receive comfort.
Just in time he arrested the gesture. She didn’t know he was there. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her with an unexpected touch.
‘Desire?’ he said softly.
After a moment she lifted her head. The parlour was lit by the glowing embers of the hearth and a single candle, but even that was enough for Jakob to be shocked by her appearance. There were no tears in her eyes, and no indication she had been crying, but her face was pale and gaunt, with deep, dark hollows beneath her eyes.
As she looked at him, some of the strain seemed to ease out of her expression. She pulled in a breath as though it cost her some effort, and then carefully lowered her feet to the floor and smoothed out her skirts. She moved stiffly, as if her body ached. It probably did, Jakob remembered. It was less than twelve hours ago that Arscott had forced her to climb up the side of the chimney to the roof. And she’d had no more than a few hours sleep in the last two nights.
She folded her hands together in her lap.
‘What is the news?’ she asked politely, with no more emphasis than if she were asking a polite question about the weather.
Jakob sat down beside her. ‘The fire is almost out,’ he said. ‘Halross is posting men to watch in case the flames rekindle overnight, but I don’t think it is likely.’
‘How…bad?’ It seemed as if she had to force the question past stiff, reluctant lips.
Jakob hesitated. His muscles tensed as if to ward off a blow. He was not afraid of Desire’s anger when he confirmed her worst fears, but it was hard to say words that he knew would cause her terrible sorrow.
‘Most of the west wing has been saved,’ he said. ‘But the east wing and the south wing are—’ He broke off. He’d been about to say the house had been gutted, but the word seemed too brutal. ‘We couldn’t save them,’ he said instead. ‘Parts of the walls are still standing, and the chimneys, but the roof has gone. Everything inside burned.’
Desire gave a sharp intake of breath, as if she’d received a physical blow. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again, her brittle composure still firmly in place.
‘That is what I expected,’ she said. ‘I do…thank you…for your efforts to save…it. I hope you did not take any risks. I did not want any lives risked for the sake of bricks and…and mortar.’ Her lips trembled. She paused to regain her composure. ‘I made salve,’ she whispered. ‘In case anyone—’
Jakob couldn’t bear it any longer. He reached over and lifted her on to his lap. She went rigid, whether from surprise or rejection of his comfort he wasn’t sure. It made no difference. He needed to hold her. He pulled her closer and stroked her hair.
‘I am sorry, min älskade,’ he murmured. ‘I am so sorry.’
She didn’t say anything, but, after a few seconds, the tension drained from her body. She turned her face into his neck and he heard a sob catch in her throat.
‘Ah, älskling.’ His heart ached for her. He couldn’t reassure her that it was just a bad dream as he had done before. This time the nightmare of pain and loss was real and inescapable.
Another sob escaped her, then she began to cry in earnest, her body racked by desolate, gut-wrenching tears. Jakob gave her the handkerchief Athena had thrust into his hand just before he’d entered the parlour, and then just held her close, rocking her and murmuring meaninglessly in a mixture of English and Swedish. He kept his voice soft and soothing, while all the time he raged silently at Arscott.
One of Desire’s hands was locked in the front of his coat. She clung to him as if he was her only safe harbour. Even when her sobs eventually subsided she didn’t pull away. She nestled against him, limp in his arms, the damp handkerchief clutched in her other hand.
‘It could be worse,’ she said, her voice choked and unsteady from weeping. ‘I sent all the most important things to Kingston when we thought the house was in danger from the…the real fire…’
‘That’s good,’ said Jakob, wary of making a cheerful comment about rebuilding that she might not yet be ready to hear. He knew a home was more than bricks and mortar.
‘Yes. And…’ She caught her breath and dabbed the handkerchief to her cheek. ‘I don’t feel the same about it now I know it had secret…secret passages.’ She swallowed an unwary sob. ‘It feels as if the house was never mine—but Ar-Arscott’s. He knew its secrets.’ She turned her face into Jakob’s neck again. He felt the dampness of her tears against his skin.
‘Never think that,’ he said fiercely. ‘It was—and is—your house. Arscott’s grandfather had a hand in building it, that’s all.’
‘Family secrets I didn’t know. I’ll go to the house in Kingston,’ she said, lifting her head. ‘And drive Templeton mad,’ she added, with an attempt at humour.
‘Templeton?’ Jakob queried.
‘My head gardener.’ Desire made a gallant attempt at a laugh. ‘He doesn’t like it when I interfere in his domain.’
‘Another roof garden?’
‘No, the house isn’t suitable. I am sorry I wept all over you,’ she added, and he sensed her growing awkwardness at their situation. She tried to slip off his lap, but he tightened his embrace and wouldn’t let her.
‘Rest a little longer,’ he said.
‘I am not in need of rest.’ She made another, somewhat halfhearted, effort to climb off his knee.
‘I am.’
‘Are you hurt?’ Desire sat upright and began to pat his shoulders in a distracted way. ‘Do you have any more burns? I will get the salve and anoint you.’
‘I don’t need your salve, älskling. Holding you does far more good for my aching muscles.’ As he spoke, Jakob realised it was true. From the moment he’d crashed into Desire’s burning bedchamber until he brought her the bad news about the house he had been engaged in a desperate struggle, first to keep her safe, and then to preserve her home. Holding her in his arms was reassuring proof that he had at least succeeded at the first of his tasks. Keeping Desire safe had come to mean a lot more to him than the simple concern of an honourable man to protect a vulnerable woman.
‘When I found you gone from your room, I was afraid I wouldn’t find you in time,’ he said, his arms involuntarily tightening as he relived the horror of the moment.
He felt her tremble, then she said. ‘But you did. You saved me.’
‘So now let us both rest.’ He knew he ought to send her to her bedchamber, but he didn’t say anything. For just a little while longer he indulged himself by keeping her warm body on his lap.
Gradually the rhythm of her breathing changed. Her grasp on his coat relaxed and her hand slid lower down his chest. Her body softened and settled into his. He realised she had fallen asleep. And realised too how much his expectations and ambitions had changed in the past day.
He had been falling ever since he met Desire, drawn towards her but resisting the attraction because of his reluctance to fully embrace his English destiny. He’d come to England determined not to allow his grandfather to interfere with his life, but now he realised he’d been carrying within him the resentment of the seventeen-year-old youth who’d suddenly had his future expectations turned upside down.
Once he’d realised he would never have a long-term role to play in his father’s merchant business, he had held himself aloof from it, afraid of investing too much of his heart in something that would never ultimately be his. But at the same time he’d stubbornly tried to preserve his independence from Lord Swiftbourne. Joining the army had been an assertion of his right to choose his own life and he did not regret the decision. But he was a man now, and he no longer needed to prove himself in such a way. In all other aspects of his life he had learned to make his decisions without undue concern for what others thought. It was time to make his decisions about his English future in exactly the same way. And if the decisions he made happened to be particularly pleasing to Swiftbourne, he could no doubt put up with the old man’s satisfaction.