only stare at him.
"No one will know," he said, wondering almost angrily how many times he'd said those words to her; every time he said them they seemed more and more wrong to him.
"But—"
"My workmen are gone for the day and I'm not expecting anyone else." He hesitated, then reluctantly dropped his hands from her waist. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her with all the hunger that had surged wildly inside him at the first touch of her, but he couldn't. Not now, at least, not until he found some way to avoid hurting her.
For the first time in his life, he was wishing another man dead, and it was an effort to keep the grinding emotion out of his voice. "You don't have to worry about Drummond; he's halfway to Norfolk by now."
"Norfolk?" Julia watched him get the tether block from the buggy and tie her horse. She felt bewildered. "How do you know he's going there?"
"He and some friends of his stopped by here hours ago, and that's where they were headed. Didn't you know?"
She didn't. It was so like Adrian, she thought, to say nothing to her about a day-long trip; he preferred her to believe he was always near.
Cyrus took her arm and led her away from the buggies. He had been sitting among the clutter of lumber, brooding, when she'd driven up, and now guided her there. It was hardly cool even under the spreading oak, but at least the force of the sunlight was deflected and the lumber provided a place for her to sit. He folded his coat to make a cushion for her.
"I can't—"
"Sit down, Julia."
She sent him a glance and obeyed, saying only, "Your coat will be ruined."
"It isn't important." He reached into a bucket on another stack of lumber near Julia and pulled out a dark bottle. "Most of the ice has melted," he commented, "but this should still be fairly cool." He opened it and handed the bottle to her.
"Thank you," she murmured. It was fruit juice, and it was cool. She drank a little, feeling tense. They were too alone out here. And he was frowning, obviously not happy with his thoughts. Had she made him angry? Hesitantly, she said, "I'm sorry if I intruded."
He looked at her, and the frown faded as he smiled. "You could never do that." He was leaning back against the lumber no more than a couple of feet away from her, his arms crossed over his powerful chest, and his gaze was very intent on her.
She couldn't guess what he was thinking. Those eyes... they were so relentlessly black, they gave away very little of his emotions. Desire kindled a dark fire in them, amusement made them laugh, and anger made them fierce, but whatever else he felt remained enigmatic, hidden in the liquid ebony depths. At least with her.
Julia was even more conscious of the heat when he looked at her, more conscious of him, and she glanced away nervously. "I suppose Helen must have given the wrong directions, or my butler could have misrememb ered them. I really should try to find Lissa."
"She's with friends, you said. They'll take care of her." His tone was reassuring.
"Yes, but, if she sent for me. .."
Cyrus wondered if she had, but didn't question aloud. He had a strong and strangely painful feeling Julia would never be able to confirm that Lissa's friend had sent any message at all. But he couldn't tell her so. Julia was already disturbed; he didn't like to think of how she'd react if he told her he thought she'd been deliberately sent out here. If she had received the message when it had been delivered, she would have arrived just about the same time Drummond had stopped by—and even the most indulgent of husbands might be forgiven a twinge of suspicion when his wife turned up in this out of the way place with an excuse that couldn't be proven.
Especially when the place was a lonely construction site where a reputed scoundrel was building a house.
He wondered who could be suspecting she was unfaithful to Drummond or wanting it to look that way. It had to be someone who would have known Drummond meant to pass
"No one will know," he said, wondering almost angrily how many times he'd said those words to her; every time he said them they seemed more and more wrong to him.
"But—"
"My workmen are gone for the day and I'm not expecting anyone else." He hesitated, then reluctantly dropped his hands from her waist. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her with all the hunger that had surged wildly inside him at the first touch of her, but he couldn't. Not now, at least, not until he found some way to avoid hurting her.
For the first time in his life, he was wishing another man dead, and it was an effort to keep the grinding emotion out of his voice. "You don't have to worry about Drummond; he's halfway to Norfolk by now."
"Norfolk?" Julia watched him get the tether block from the buggy and tie her horse. She felt bewildered. "How do you know he's going there?"
"He and some friends of his stopped by here hours ago, and that's where they were headed. Didn't you know?"
She didn't. It was so like Adrian, she thought, to say nothing to her about a day-long trip; he preferred her to believe he was always near.
Cyrus took her arm and led her away from the buggies. He had been sitting among the clutter of lumber, brooding, when she'd driven up, and now guided her there. It was hardly cool even under the spreading oak, but at least the force of the sunlight was deflected and the lumber provided a place for her to sit. He folded his coat to make a cushion for her.
"I can't—"
"Sit down, Julia."
She sent him a glance and obeyed, saying only, "Your coat will be ruined."
"It isn't important." He reached into a bucket on another stack of lumber near Julia and pulled out a dark bottle. "Most of the ice has melted," he commented, "but this should still be fairly cool." He opened it and handed the bottle to her.
"Thank you," she murmured. It was fruit juice, and it was cool. She drank a little, feeling tense. They were too alone out here. And he was frowning, obviously not happy with his thoughts. Had she made him angry? Hesitantly, she said, "I'm sorry if I intruded."
He looked at her, and the frown faded as he smiled. "You could never do that." He was leaning back against the lumber no more than a couple of feet away from her, his arms crossed over his powerful chest, and his gaze was very intent on her.
She couldn't guess what he was thinking. Those eyes... they were so relentlessly black, they gave away very little of his emotions. Desire kindled a dark fire in them, amusement made them laugh, and anger made them fierce, but whatever else he felt remained enigmatic, hidden in the liquid ebony depths. At least with her.
Julia was even more conscious of the heat when he looked at her, more conscious of him, and she glanced away nervously. "I suppose Helen must have given the wrong directions, or my butler could have misrememb ered them. I really should try to find Lissa."
"She's with friends, you said. They'll take care of her." His tone was reassuring.
"Yes, but, if she sent for me. .."
Cyrus wondered if she had, but didn't question aloud. He had a strong and strangely painful feeling Julia would never be able to confirm that Lissa's friend had sent any message at all. But he couldn't tell her so. Julia was already disturbed; he didn't like to think of how she'd react if he told her he thought she'd been deliberately sent out here. If she had received the message when it had been delivered, she would have arrived just about the same time Drummond had stopped by—and even the most indulgent of husbands might be forgiven a twinge of suspicion when his wife turned up in this out of the way place with an excuse that couldn't be proven.
Especially when the place was a lonely construction site where a reputed scoundrel was building a house.
He wondered who could be suspecting she was unfaithful to Drummond or wanting it to look that way. It had to be someone who would have known Drummond meant to pass
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