Page 24 of The Villain
Daphne would never be able to live with herself if he turned out to have a wife, closeted away in some far-flung wing of the castle while he took up with her. Determined to know the truth before she allowed him to lay another hand upon her, she set out to find him.
However, a quick sweep of the areas she knew of the house turned up nothing, and an inquiry of the imposing butler revealed Adam had left Dunnottar on urgent business in Kincardineshire. He would return for dinner and had requested she join him.
Daphne would be prepared to meet him, and she would not rest until she’d gotten the answer to at least this one burning question. Perhaps then, the guilt of what she’d allowed herself to sink to would not be so unbearable.
Daphne arrived in the dining room that evening to find Adam already there. For the first time since they’d met, he was dressed appropriately—his shirt buttoned to the throat and a simply-tied cravat adorned with an onyx stickpin, a brocade waistcoat hugging his chest and waist, a black coat clinging to his shoulders. Not a strand of his hair appeared out of place, combed back from his forehead and tied neatly at his nape.
Still, even dressed so finely, the subtle air of danger remained. In truth, these clothes only heightened the effect, the stark shades making his hair and eyes darker. His body appeared even bigger wrapped in a waistcoat and breeches, the thick column of his neck and rigid slash of his jaw hardly softened by the white linen neck cloth.
He stood behind the chair at the head of the table, hands clasped behind his back. When his gaze fell on her, she froze in the doorway, held captive by his eyes. While his expression remained unmoved— stern, emotionless—the pools of his eyes changed, becoming more liquid, like molten bronze. As those eyes of his lowered, his gaze caressing her from across the room, she supposed he found her attire acceptable.
Maeve had dressed her in burgundy satin trimmed in black lace, the matching gloves covering her arms to the elbow. Despite her protestations, the maid had also tied a length of matching ribbon around her throat, insisting the Master would like it. Daphne supposed it could not hurt to try to appeal to his baser urges. Perhaps if he was pleased with the way she looked, he would be more amenable to answering her questions.
“You look ravishing, little dove,” he declared, coming around the table toward her. “Will you stand there all night for me to admire you, or will you join me at the table?”
The softness of his tone, as well as the humor dancing in his eyes, disarmed her as he approached, offering her a hand. Was this some sort of trick? This was, perhaps, the politest he had been to her since their first meeting. As she placed a hand in his and let him lead her to her place to the right of his setting, she could almost imagine he was escorting her at a London dinner party.
Someone had gone through a great deal of trouble for just the two of them, laying out a variety of sumptuous dishes and adorning the table with beautiful Wedgewood china. Candles lent an ethereal glow to the darkened room, the drapes shut against the light of the moon.
If she did not know better, she would think the man was attempting to be romantic. She decided to play along, and hoped it would smooth the way for her inquiries.
“You look quite handsome this evening,” she remarked, reaching for her napkin and neatly draping it over her lap.
He grinned, leaning back in his chair far more casually than would be acceptable in a London dining room. The posture reminded her how little Adam seemed to regard propriety.
“Do I?” he teased. “Well, that is good to hear. I shall convey your appreciation to Maeve, who insisted I must dress properly when dining in such fine company.”
She gave him a smile, hoping it appeared genuine. Her hands trembled in her lap, and her body seemed to remain on high alert, as if remembering how easily and quickly he could have her naked and spread out wherever he pleased. He’d already proven he wasn’t above draping her over a table and having his way with her.
“Would you care for wine?” he asked, gesturing toward the two bottles resting on the table between them. “I dismissed the footmen so we could dine alone, so we are to serve ourselves this evening. I was not sure which you would prefer, so I ordered both sherry and Madeira brought from the cellar.”
“I would love the Madeira, thank you,” she replied. “That was thoughtful of you, Adam.”
He filled the empty goblet beside her place setting, then his own. After placing the bottle back between them, he eyed her with open curiosity.
“So amenable this evening,” he remarked. “To what do I owe the sudden shift in your demeanor?”
Daphne took a quick sip of her wine to avoid answering right away. His query made her pulse race, worry that he could see right through her making her antsy. The fortifying swallow of Madeira took a bit of the edge off, and she relaxed a bit in her seat.
“Perhaps you allowing me to use the harp has pacified me,” she hedged, shrugging one bare shoulder.
Adam reached for one of the platters and began serving himself, so Daphne followed suit. She was ravenous and took a large helping of venison before reaching for the turnips.
“Hmm,” he murmured while he helped himself to a healthy portion of lamb. “Yet, I did not hear one note of music before I left for Kincardineshire.”
She lowered her eyes and bit back the words hovering on the tip of her tongue. Instead of informing him that she’d been too busy scrubbing his seed off her skin, then trying to unravel the mystery of the hidden woman in his house, she cut her meat and avoided his gaze.
“I plan to take up my practice tomorrow,” she said. “It has been ages, but I do not believe I’ve grown too rusty since the last time I touched a harp.”
“I fully expect to hear sweet music drifting down the corridor to my study,” he said, glancing up at her between bites of food. “After all, you more than earned as much time with the instrument as you wish.”
The reminder of what she’d had to do to ‘earn’ the harp almost caused her to choke. She cleared her throat and forced a swallow, taking a sip of wine to wash it down. His teasing set her teeth on edge, but she managed to keep her composure as they ate.
He asked he why she’d learned the harp, and she answered that she’d been terrible at the pianoforte so her mothered had hired someone to teach her a different instrument. From the moment she’d first touched the harp, she’d excelled.
She asked him about his business in Kincardineshire, and whether he owned lands here in Scotland. He informed her that Dunnottar was simply a castle, not a grand estate with farms and tenants. He did, however, own two larger holdings, both with lands and tenants to be managed—one in Scotland, and the other in England. The time in his study must surely be spent safeguarding his assets.
He spoke of the fair weather today, informing her she was free to take a horse out for a ride tomorrow if it held up, providing she took Maeve for an escort. She thanked him for his generosity and praised the efforts of his chef as she tasted a bit of everything before serving herself dessert.
