Mine Till Midnight (13 page)

“I can help you.” He leaned a shoulder against the wall, smiling. “I’m good with my hands.”

There was no innuendo in his tone, but her color deepened nonetheless. “No, thank you. I’m sure Butayenko would disapprove.”

“Butyakengo.”

Anxious to demonstrate her competence, Amelia strode to the other window and began jerking at the closed draperies. “Thank you, Mr. Rohan, but as you can see, I have the situation well in hand.”

“I think I’ll stay. Having stopped you from falling through one window, I’d hate for you to go out the other.”

“I won’t. I’ll be fine. I have everything under—” She tugged harder, and the rod clattered to the floor, just as the other had done. But unlike the other curtain, which had been lined with aged velvet, this one was lined with some kind of shimmering rippling fabric, some kind of—

Amelia froze in horror. The underside of the curtain was covered with bees.
Bees.
Hundreds, no, thousands of them, their iridescent wings beating in an angry relentless hum. They lifted in a mass from the crumpled velvet, while more flew from a crevice in the wall, where an enormous hive simmered. They must have found their way into a hollow space from a decayed spot in the outer wall. The insects swarmed like tongues of flame around Amelia’s paralyzed form.

She felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, God—”

“Don’t move.” Rohan’s voice was astonishingly calm. “Don’t swat at them.”

She had never known such primal fear, welling up from beneath her skin, leaking through every pore. No part of her body seemed to be under her control. The air was boiling with them, bees and more bees.

It was not going to be a pleasant way to die. Closing her eyes tightly, Amelia willed herself to be still, when every muscle strained and screamed for action. Insects moved in sinuous patterns around her, tiny bodies touching her sleeves, hands, shoulders.

“They’re more afraid of you than you are of them,” she heard Rohan say.

Amelia highly doubted that. “These are not f-frightened bees.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “These are
f-furious
bees.”

“They do seem a bit annoyed,” Rohan conceded, approaching her slowly. “It could be the dress you’re wearing—they tend not to like dark colors.” A short pause. “Or it could be the fact that you just ripped down half their hive.”

“If you h-have the nerve to be
amused
by this—” She broke off and covered her face with her hands, trembling all over.

His soothing voice undercut the buzzing around them. “Be still. Everything’s fine. I’m right here with you.”

“Take me away,” she whispered desperately. Her heart was pounding too hard, making her bones shake, driving every coherent thought from her head. She felt him brush a few inquisitive insects from her hair and back. His arms went around her, his shoulder sturdy beneath her cheek.

“I will, sweetheart. Put your arms around my neck.”

She groped for him blindly, feeling sick and weak and disoriented. The flat muscles at the back of his neck shifted as he bent toward her, gathering her up as easily as if she were a child. “There,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.” Her feet left the floor, and she was floating and cradled at the same time. None of it seemed real: the swirling, droning bees that poured through the air, the hard chest and arms that enclosed her in a safe, secure grip. The thought came to her that she might have died if he hadn’t been there. But he was so steady and deliberate, so utterly lacking in fear. The clamp of terror eased from around her throat. Turning her face into his shoulder, she relaxed as he carried her.

His breath fell in a warm, even rhythm on the curve of her cheek. “Some people think of the bee as a sacred insect,” he said. “It’s a symbol of reincarnation.”

“I don’t believe in reincarnation,” she muttered.

There was a smile in his voice. “What a surprise. At the very least, the bees’ presence in your home is a sign of good things to come.”

Her voice was buried in the fine wool of his coat. “Wh-what does it mean if there are
thousands
of bees in one’s home?”

He shifted her higher in his arms, his lips curving gently against the cold rim of her ear. “Probably that we’ll have plenty of honey for teatime. We’re going through the doorway now. In a moment I’m going to set you on your feet.”

Amelia kept her face against him, her fingertips digging into the layers of his clothes. “Are they following?”

“No. They want to stay near the hive. Their main concern is to protect the queen from predators.”

“She has nothing to fear from
me!
”

Laughter rustled in his throat. With extreme care, he lowered Amelia’s feet to the floor. Keeping one arm around her, he reached with the other to close the door. “There. We’re out of the room. You’re safe.” His hand passed over her hair. “You can open your eyes now.”

Clutching the lapels of his coat, Amelia stood and waited for a feeling of relief that didn’t come. Her heart was racing too hard, too fast. Her chest ached from the strain of her breathing. Her lashes lifted, but all she could see was a shower of sparks.

“Amelia … easy. You’re all right.” His hands chased the shivers that ran up and down her back. “Slow down, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t. Her lungs were about to burst. No matter how hard she worked, she couldn’t get enough air.
Bees
 … the sound of buzzing was still in her ears. She heard his voice as if from a great distance, and she felt his arms go around her again as she sank into layers of gray softness.

After what could have been a minute or an hour, pleasant sensations filtered through the haze. A tender pressure moved over her forehead. The gentle brushes touched her eyelids, slid to her cheeks. Strong arms held her against a comfortingly hard surface, while a clean, salt-edged scent filled her nostrils. Her lashes fluttered, and she turned into the warmth with confused pleasure.

“There you are,” came a low murmur.

Opening her eyes, Amelia saw Cam Rohan’s face above her. They were on the hallway floor—he was holding her in his lap. As if the situation weren’t mortifying enough, the front of her bodice was gaping, and her corset was unhooked. Only her crumpled chemise was left to cover her chest.

Amelia stiffened. Until that moment she had never known there was a feeling beyond embarrassment, that made one wish one could crumble into a pile of ashes. “My … my dress…”

“You weren’t breathing well. I thought it best to loosen your corset.”

“I’ve never fainted before,” she said groggily, struggling to sit up.

“You were frightened.” His hand came to the center of her chest, gently pressing her back down. “Rest another minute.” His gaze moved over her wan features. “I think we can conclude you’re not fond of bees.”

“I’ve hated them ever since I was seven.”

“Why?”

“I was playing out-of-doors with Win and Leo, and I stumbled too close to a rosebush. A bee flew at my face and stung right here.” She touched a spot just below her right eye, high on the crest of her cheek. “The side of my face swelled until my eye closed … I couldn’t see from it for almost two weeks—”

His fingertips smoothed over her cheek as if to soothe the long-ago injury.

“—and my brother and sister called me Cyclops.” She watched him struggle not to smile. “They still do, whenever a bee flies too near.”

He regarded her with friendly sympathy. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Ceilings and walls, mostly.”

She stared at him in puzzlement, her thoughts still coursing too slowly. “You mean … you would rather live outside like a wild creature?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. Have you ever slept outside before?”

“On the ground?”

Her bewildered tone made him grin. “On a pallet beside a fire.”

Amelia tried to imagine it, lying undefended on the hard ground, at the mercy of every creature that crawled, crept, or flew. “I don’t think I could fall asleep that way.”

She felt his hand playing slowly in the loose locks of her hair. “You could.” His voice was soft. “I would help you.”

She had no idea what he meant by that. All she knew was that as his fingertips reached her scalp, she felt a sensual shiver run down her spine. Clumsily she reached for her bodice, trying to pull the reinforced fabric together.

“Allow me. You’re still unsteady.” His hands brushed hers aside and he began to hook her corset deftly. Clearly he was familiar with the intricacies of a woman’s undergarments. Amelia didn’t doubt there had been more than a few ladies willing to let him practice.

Flustered, she asked, “Was I stung anywhere?”

“No.” Mischief flickered in his eyes. “I checked thoroughly.”

Amelia suppressed a little moan of distress. She was tempted to push his hands away from her, except that he was restoring her clothing far more efficiently than she would have. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she wasn’t sprawled in a man’s lap while he fastened her corset.

“You’ll need a local beekeeper to remove the hive,” Rohan said.

Thinking of the enormous colony in the wall, Amelia asked, “How will he kill them all?”

“He may not have to. If possible, he’ll sedate them with smoke and transfer the queen to a movable frame hive. The rest will follow. But if he can’t manage that, he’ll have to kill the colony with soap water. The larger problem is how to remove the comb and the honey. If you don’t take it all out, it will ferment and attract all kinds of vermin.”

Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him in worry. “Will the entire wall have to be removed?”

Before Rohan could reply, a new voice entered the conversation. “What’s this?”

It was Leo, who had just arisen from bed and pulled on his clothes. He came barefoot from the direction of his bedroom. His bleary gaze moved over the pair of them. “Why are you on the floor with your buttons undone?”

Amelia considered the question. “I decided to have a spontaneous tryst in the middle of the hallway with a man I hardly know.”

“Well, try to be quiet about it next time. A fellow needs his sleep.”

Amelia stared at him quizzically. “For heaven’s sake, Leo, aren’t you worried that I may have been compromised?”

“Were you?”

“I…” Her face turned hot as she glanced into Rohan’s vivid topaz eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“If you’re not sure about it,” Leo said, “you probably weren’t.” He came to Amelia, sank to his haunches, and stared at her steadily. His voice gentled. “What happened, sis?”

She pointed an unsteady finger at the closed door. “There are
bees
in there, Leo.”

“Bees. Good God.” Her brother gave her an affectionately mocking smile. “What a coward you are, Cyclops.”

Amelia scowled, levering herself upward from Rohan’s lap. He braced her automatically, his arm firm behind her back. “Go see for yourself.”

Leo sauntered lazily to the room, opened it, and stepped inside.

In two seconds, he had sped out, slammed the door, and lodged his shoulders against it. “Christ!” His eyes were wide and glazed. “There must be thousands of them!”

“I’d estimate at least two hundred thousand,” Rohan said. Finishing the last of Amelia’s buttons, he helped her to her feet. “Slowly,” he murmured. “You might be a bit light-headed.”

She let him support her while she assessed her uncertain balance. “I’m steady now. Thank you.” Her hand was still clasped in his. Rohan’s fingers were long and graceful, the thumb band gleaming against honey-colored skin.

Uneasily Amelia drew her hand away and told her brother, “Mr. Rohan saved my life twice today. First I nearly fell out the window, and then I found the bees.”

“This house,” Leo muttered, “should be torn down and used for matchsticks.”

“You should order a full structural inspection,” Rohan said. “The house has settled badly. Some of the chimneys are leaning, and the entrance hall ceiling is sagging. You’ve got damaged joinery and beams.”

“I know what the problems are.” The calm appraisal had annoyed Leo. He’d retained enough of his past architectural training to assess the house’s condition accurately.

“It may not be safe for the family to stay here.”

“But that’s my concern,” Leo said, adding with a sneer, “isn’t it?”

Sensitive to the brittle disquiet in the atmosphere, Amelia made a hasty attempt at diplomacy. “Mr. Rohan, Lord Ramsay is convinced the house poses no immediate danger to the family.”

“I wouldn’t be so easily convinced,” Rohan replied. “Not with four sisters in my charge.”

“Care to take them off my hands?” Leo asked. “You can have the lot of them.” He smiled without amusement at Rohan’s silence. “No? Then pray don’t offer unwanted advice.”

Despondent worry swept over Amelia as she saw the bleakness of her brother’s face. He was becoming a stranger, this man who harbored despair and fury so deep inside that it had begun to eat at his foundations. Until, like the house, he would eventually collapse as the weakest parts of the structure gave way.

Unruffled, Rohan turned to Amelia. “In lieu of advice, let me offer some information. Two days hence, there’ll be a Mop Fair held at the village.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a hiring fair, attended by all the local residents in need of work. They wear tokens to signify their trade—a servant girl will carry a mop, a thatcher carries a tuft of straw, and so forth. Give the ones you want a shilling to seal the contract, and you’ll have them for a year’s employment.”

Amelia darted a cautious glance at her brother. “We do need proper servants, Leo.”

“Go, then, and hire whomever you please. I don’t give a damn.”

Amelia gave a troubled nod and raised her hands to her upper arms, rubbing them over her sleeves.

It was cold, she thought, even for autumn. Icy drafts crept around her stockinged ankles, beneath the edges of her cuffs, across the sweat-dampened back of her neck. Her muscles tensed against the strange, raw chill.

Both men had fallen silent. Leo’s face was blank, his gaze focused inward.

It felt as if the space around them were folding in on itself, thickening until the air was as heavy as water. Colder, tighter, closer … instinctively Amelia stepped back, away from her brother, until she felt Rohan’s chest against her shoulders. His hand came up to her arm, gently cupping her elbow. Shivering, she leaned harder against the warm, vital strength of his body.