A Kiss at Midnight

Chapter Twelve

The chime of midnight may usher in a new day but it couldn't erase his error of yesterday. Carrick's stomach a knotted ball of twine as he made his way back to his room. What the hell possessed him to quite literally corner Ilona and tell her what kind of husband should stand proudly by her side. She wasn't a child or a younger sibling. Ilona was a woman, perfectly capable of choosing an intended for herself.

"No doubt a woman these days," he murmured, his mind unable to forgot those raven tresses he longed to unravel from many a hairpin, the dips of her hips worthy of encircling with his hands and those thighs an anchor to cling to while drowning in ecstasy....

"Fuck," he swore softly. "I cannot think of her in such way. She isn't mine."

And yet...
Screw the rules and proper order of things.
He briefly closed his eyes. He knew why those words sprung from his lips. Henry Westmore, whose name he learned in the earlier hours of the morning after the ball.
If places had been reversed, Carrick absolutely would have not ignored her silent plea for assistance. No he would have loudly declared that his name was upon her dance card for the next dance. No matter lousy his footwork was at some set, he would not have left her side. Two dances with the same partner was the maximum but he would have broken a such rule.
For her.

Hours later, Ilona awoke to an empty side and rumpled sheets. Against her better judgement, she reached out. Her fingers brushing still warm sheets. So he did returned but where is he now? She eased herself into a sitting position and froze.
All air leaving her in a breathless rush at the sight before her.

His voice may wield power but his body possessed it in every fibre of his being. He was balanced on the arches of his feet. A wave of umber coated each muscular leg. One hand dangling from a knee as the other reached for something unseen to Ilona. A pathway of temptation and her gaze unable to turn back. Thighs hardened from many a run coiled, ready at a moment to launch him into a standing height. Lines became a delectable bottom worthy of praise. He rose up, slipping back on his wedding ring.

And turned, a chest made of granite greeting her but that wasn't the only thing she saw.
A jagged patchwork of skin stitched into place on the right side of his body. Carrick had been scarred since they met but something about this one felt newer. Ilona let out a gasp, what had happened to him?
Not wishing to linger on it for long, she lowered her gaze.

A trail of hair cradling his belly button before sweeping down, drew her gaze to that lustrous V shape...
She looked up sharply.
Heat infusing her cheeks.
To meet that same intensity from last night.
Lips incapable of speech and lungs seized of all air.
A few short strides of his would be all it took to close the distance between them....

A key scraped against the lock.
Carrick's nostrils flared at the scent of vanilla. Human. Jessica. His head swivelled towards the door and received a pillow to the side of his face. The enchantment was well and truly broken on her part.

"Ilona!"

"Cover yourself," she hissed, swinging her legs onto the ground.

"Why the hell is she here so early and more importantly why does she have a key to our room?" The beginnings of a growl vibrated in his throat, eyes taking on a crimson sheen.

"The keys to the rooms are all the same and each staff member carries one." Her voice almost drowned out by his murderous growl.

"And more to your point," Ilona said, rounding on him. "I asked her to be here early as I wish to go for a walk before breakfast which I would have told you if you had returned at a reasonable hour or better yet hadn't left me in the first place!" Hurt slashed at her words.

"Ilona," Carrick started, reaching for her.

"Did you ever consider my opinions in all of this? Or are you so content to leave me in the dark."
She slipped his grasp, storming off to bathroom before he could respond. Jessica sprang back to life, following at her mistress' heels.

Gravel crunched underfoot. A skirt of lapis blue swishing at her ankles. Sunlight dappling her face from beneath branches of evergreen. Ivy an ever growing blanket atop a trellis archway. Rose pink and daffodil yellow flowers in full bloom and sequestered behind pruned shrubbery. Lily pads floating in a small pond. While getting dressed, Jessica informed her that the gardens and all but the third floor of the main edifice were available to guests. She also mentioned the name of the wing where Ilona and Carrick were staying, Selene although she was quick to correct Ilona's assumption that it was named after Barrymore's wife.

"I do not believe he has one, my lady."

As if summoned, Ilona turned towards the house and saw him, deep in conversation with a young footman. Barrymore happened to glance in her direction and upon seeing her, held up a hand to silence the young man.

"Lady Ilona, good morning. I trust you sleep well." His voice carrying towards her. The footman departed for parts unknown.

For a moment, Ilona regarded him. How is it he can be so charming and yet according to Carrick, is a monster beneath a man's facade.

"Oh, yes I-I did, thank you Lord Barrymore. This garden really is quite lovely."

His lips curved into a smile, a dash of smugness in it. "I am glad to hear such a compliment though I must confess it was a gift left unseen by my love." The smile fell away beneath the weight of his pain.

"Oh I am sorry for your loss."

Barrymore knelt down next to a rose yet to make its debut. A finger brushed the folded petals of blush pink. His gaze met Ilona's once again. "Winter brings great sorrow over the lands but in springtime we hope to be granted a second chance. For not all can be lost to the darkening skies."

Words she heard as a child perched on her mother's knee. The pages of a book beneath her hands. A dark forest of ink etched across the paper, her mother's ring a shining light amongst the darkness. Words which her mother treasured and in return were imprinted on Ilona by Anna's goodnight kiss.

"You know it too." The words a whisper on her lips.

"I heard it in passing once and since then, it has become a favourite of mine." Barrymore held out a hand. "Come, one cannot enjoy a day of activities fully until they have broken their fast."

A moment of hesitation and then Ilona walked over to him. Barrymore smiled as she accepted his offered arm. The walk back was short but during that time, he sought her opinion on his home.

"One could get lost in such vast halls if not for my maid," Ilona said as they rounded a corner.

Barrymore let out a chuckle. "In time it becomes easier. Ah Lord Ellis."

Carrick's feet were planted in the hallway by the dining room, awaiting Ilona's return. Upon seeing her on the lord's arm, a shadow fell across his face.

"Your wife was keeping me company on our walk back," Barrymore continued. "She is a delightful woman."

Carrick's expression a blank mask of politeness as he said, "indeed she is" but Ilona saw something in his gaze hardened. No sooner had Barrymore left then he turned to her. The mask slipping.
"Barrymore is dangerous, Ilona. I told you such. You shouldn't have been alone with him." An edge in his voice.

"He is our host," she shot back. "I can't exactly run away from him screaming now can I?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant..." his voice trailing off. Frustration racking a claw under his skin. I want to keep you safe, Ilona.

"What Carrick? What does you mean because truly I have no idea anymore."

She turned to leave.
Carrick lunged.
His hand caught her wrist, spinning her back to him.
Soft curves brushed against the hard panes of his chest.
Her closeness a tempting sweetness. One he should avoid because of her attachment to Henry but he couldn't nor could he keep her in the dark any longer.
His lips grazed the shell of her ear, not missing the quickening of her pulse. "The gardens tonight after dinner. I will tell you everything then, Ilona."