The Undoing of de Luca (5 page)

‘Thank you,’ he murmured and took a sip of coffee. Ellery began to eat her eggs with grim determination. She didn’t want to talk to Larenz, didn’t want him to flirt or tease or tempt her. Yet, even as these thoughts flitted through her mind and her eggs turned rubbery and tasteless in her mouth, Ellery knew she was already tempted. Badly. She thought of how Larenz’s flutter of fingers on her wrist, skin sliding on skin, had jolted her, an electric current wired directly to her soul.

Except, Ellery thought as she speared a mushroom, souls had nothing to do with it; the temptation she felt for Larenz de Luca was purely, utterly physical. It had to be, for he was exactly the kind of man she despised. The kind of man her father had been.

She glanced up from her breakfast to look at Larenz, to drink him in, for he really was the most amazingly beautiful man. Her gaze lingered on the straight line of his nose, the slashes of his dark brows, those full moulded lips—she imagined those lips touching her, even somewhere seemingly innocuous, like where his fingers had been, on her wrist—and she nearly shuddered aloud.

‘Is something wrong?’ Larenz asked. He lifted his mug to take a sip of coffee and his eyes danced over its rim.

‘What do you mean?’ Ellery asked sharply. She returned her fork to her plate with a clatter. She’d been caught staring, of course, and she pulled her lip between her teeth, nipping hard, at the realization.

Larenz lowered his mug. His eyes still danced. ‘It’s just you looked a bit—pained.’

‘Pained?’ Ellery repeated. She rose abruptly from the table and grabbed her plate, moving to scrape the remains of her mostly uneaten breakfast into the bin. ‘I’m afraid I have rather a lot on my mind,’ she explained tartly. Too much on her mind to be thinking about Larenz the way she had. Too many worries to add temptation to the mix, especially when she knew he could only be amusing himself with her. The thought stung.

‘Breakfast was delicious, thank you,’ Larenz said. He’d moved to the sink, where Ellery watched in surprise as he rinsed his plate and mug and placed them in the dishwasher.

‘Thank you,’ she half mumbled, touched by his little thoughtfulness. ‘You don’t have to clean up—’

‘Amazingly, I am capable of putting a few dishes away,’ Larenz said with a wry smile that reached right into Ellery and twisted her heart. Or maybe something else. She turned away again, busying herself with the mindless tasks of wiping the table down and turning off the coffeemaker. From the corner of her eye, she saw Larenz lean one shoulder against the door, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘So it looks to be a beautiful day out. How about you show me the grounds and we can discuss this business proposition?’

Ellery jerked around, the dripping dishcloth still in her hand. She’d completely forgotten about his business proposition—what kind of proposal could he possibly have?

‘I’m really rather busy—’ she began and Larenz just smiled.

‘I promise you, it’ll be worth your while.’ He reached out almost lazily and took the dishcloth from her hand, tossing it easily into the sink where it landed with a wet thud. ‘An hour of your time, no more. Surely you can spare that?’

Ellery hesitated. Larenz stood there, relaxed and waiting, a faint smile curving those amazing lips, and suddenly she had no more excuses. She didn’t even
want
to have any more excuses. She wanted, for once, an hour to enjoy herself. To enjoy temptation instead of resist it. To see what might happen, even if it was dangerous. An hour couldn’t hurt, surely? That was all she’d give Larenz—or herself.

She let her breath out slowly. ‘All right. But we ought to wear wellies.’ She glanced pointedly at his leather loafers. ‘It rained last night and it’s quite muddy out.’

‘I’m afraid,’ Larenz murmured, ‘I didn’t bring any—wellies—with me.’

Ellery pursed her lips. She could just imagine the kind of clothes in the case Larenz had brought inside last night, and it didn’t run to rubber boots. ‘It’s a good job that we have plenty for guests,’ she returned, and Larenz quirked one eyebrow in question.

‘We?’

‘I mean I,’ Ellery clarified, flushing. ‘The boots are from when I was growing up—when we had house guests.’ Her throat suddenly felt tight. She tried not to think of those days, when she was little and Maddock Manor had been full of people and laughter, the rooms gleaming and smelling of fresh flowers and beeswax polish and everything had been happy.

Had seemed happy, she mentally corrected, and went to the utility room to fetch a pair of boots she thought might be in Larenz’s size.

Larenz followed Ellery out of the kitchen door to the walled garden adjacent to the Manor. He took in the remnants of a summer garden, now bedraggled and mostly dead, the grass no more than muddy patches. He wondered if the parsnips for last night’s soup had come from here. He imagined Ellery harvesting the garden by herself, a lonely, laborious task, and something unexpected pulled at his heart.

He felt a single stab of pity, which was most unlike him. He’d worked too hard for too long pulling himself up from the gutter to feel sorry for an aristocrat who’d fallen on hard times, no doubt in part due to her family’s extravagant living.

Yet, as he watched Ellery stride ahead of him, the boots enveloping her slender legs, her back stiff and straight, he realized he did feel a surprising twist of compassion for her.

She would be horrified if she knew. Ellery Dunant, Larenz thought with amusement, possessed a rather touching amount of pride. She seemed to love this heap of hers about as much as she disliked him, and was, he knew, most reluctant to spend time with him. She resented the attraction she felt for him, that much was obvious, but Larenz did not think she could resist its tug for long.

He certainly had no desire to. He wanted to release that platinum fall of hair from its sorry scraped little bun; he wanted to trail his fingers along her creamy skin and see if it was as soft as it looked—everywhere. He wanted to transform the disdain that pinched her face to a desire that would soften it. And he would. He always got what he wanted.

‘Did you plant a garden this summer?’ Larenz asked, nudging a row of withered runner beans. Ellery turned around, her hands deep in the pockets of her waxed jacket.

‘Yes—a small one.’ She glanced around the garden, remembering the vision she’d once had, the rows of hollyhocks, the cornucopia of vegetables, the neat little herb garden. She’d managed only a few potatoes and parsnips, things that were easy to grow, for she’d learned rather quickly that she did not have much of a green thumb. ‘It’s difficult to manage on my own,’ she explained stiffly. ‘But one day—’ She stopped, letting the thought fall to the ground, unnourished. One day what? Every day she stayed at Maddock Manor, Ellery was conscious of how futile her plans really were. She would never get ahead on her own, never have enough money to make the necessary repairs, much less the renovations, never be able to see Maddock Manor restored to the glory it had once known. She tried to avoid these damning realizations, and for the most part she did, simply living day by day. It was Larenz de Luca, with his knowing smile and pointed questions, who reminded her of the futility of her life here.

She turned away from the garden to lead Larenz out to the half-timbered barns that flanked the rear of the property. ‘So just what is this business proposition?’ she called over her shoulder.

‘Let me see the barns,’ Larenz returned equably, and Ellery suppressed a groan. She’d only agreed to show Larenz the grounds because she’d already discovered how persistent he could be, and in a moment of folly—weakness—she’d wanted to spend time with him. She’d wanted to feel that dangerous, desirable jolt again. Even—especially—if it went nowhere; there was nowhere for it to go.

Yet, now that they were actually outside, Larenz inspecting the overgrown gardens and crumbling brick walls, Ellery felt no enjoyment or excitement, only the ragged edge of desperation as a man who looked as if he’d never known a day of want or need strolled through the remnants of her own failure.

‘A lovely building,’ Larenz murmured as Ellery let him into the dim, dusty interior of the barn that had once stabled a dozen workhorses. She blinked in the gloom, the sunlight filtering through the cracks.

‘Once,’ she agreed, and Larenz just smiled.

‘Yours is hardly the first stately home to fall into disrepair.’

Ellery nodded rather glumly. It was a story being told all over England: estates crippled by rising costs and inheritance taxes, turned over to the National Trust or private enterprises, hotels or amusement parks or even, in the case of a manor nearby, a zoo.

Larenz stepped deeper into the dimness of the barn and ran his hand over a bulky shape shrouded in canvas tarpaulin that took over most of the interior. ‘Have you ever thought of turning the place into a park or museum?’

‘No.’ She’d resisted letting Maddock Manor become anything but the home it once had been—her home, her mother’s home, a place that had defined them—because she was afraid if she lost the Manor she’d have nothing left. Nothing that pointed to who she was—what she was. Her father’s daughter. ‘Letting rooms out for holidays is the first step, I suppose, but I couldn’t bear it if someone put a roller coaster up in the garden or something like that.’

Larenz turned to her, his eyes glinting with amusement even in the musty dimness of the barn. ‘Surely you wouldn’t have to do something so drastic.’

Ellery shrugged. ‘I don’t have the money to renovate it myself, not on a large scale, so the only choice would be to turn it over to developers.’

‘Have you had any offers?’

That was the galling bit, Ellery thought with a sigh. She hadn’t. Manor houses, it seemed, were all too available, and Maddock Manor was in enough disrepair to make developers turn away. At least they hadn’t been pestering her. ‘No, not really. We’re a bit off the beaten track.’

Larenz nodded slowly. ‘I’m amazed Amelie found this place, actually.’

Ellery bristled; she couldn’t help it. ‘I do have a website—’

‘Mmm.’ Larenz pulled at the canvas tarpaulin. ‘If I’m not mistaken, there’s a car under here, and probably a nice one.’

Ellery’s heart seemed to stop for a second before it started beating with hard, heavy thuds. ‘A Rolls-Royce,’ she confirmed as Larenz pulled the tarpaulin away to reveal the car. They gazed silently at the vintage vehicle, its silver body gleaming even in the dim light. Ellery wished she’d taken Larenz to another barn. She’d forgotten the car was kept in this one. Actually, she’d forgotten about the car completely, yet now she found the memories rushing back and she reached one hand out to touch the gleaming metal before she dropped it back to her side.

‘A Silver Dawn,’ Larenz murmured. He ran his hand over the engine hood. ‘From the nineteen-forties. It’s in remarkably good condition.’

‘It was my father’s,’ Ellery said quietly.

Larenz glanced at her. ‘Has he passed away?’

She nodded. ‘Five years ago.’

‘I’m sorry. You must have been quite young.’

‘Nineteen.’ She gave a little shrug; she didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Larenz, a virtual stranger. She didn’t like talking about her father to her closest friend. She certainly wasn’t about to unburden herself to a man like Larenz.

‘You could sell the Rolls,’ Larenz commented as he covered the car back up; Ellery felt a sudden pang of loss. She’d ridden in that car as a child, stuck her head out of the window and laughed with joy as her father had motored down the narrow country lanes, waving at everyone who passed.

She’d also stood on the front steps and watched the Rolls disappear down the drive when her father had gone on his alleged business trips. She’d never known when he would be coming back.

‘Maybe I don’t want to sell it,’ she said, her voice coming out in something of a snap.

Larenz glanced at her, unperturbed. ‘It must be worth at least forty thousand pounds.’

Forty thousand pounds. Ellery had no idea the car could be worth that much. She felt foolish for not knowing and yet, even so she knew she would never sell it. Another emotional and irrational decision, but one she couldn’t keep from making. She turned away, walking stiffly out of the barn. ‘Some things aren’t for sale,’ she said quietly after Larenz had followed her out and she had closed the big wooden door, sliding the bar across.

‘Forty thousand pounds would make a big difference to a place like this,’ Larenz remarked mildly. ‘You could mow the lawn a bit more regularly, for starters.’

Ellery whirled on him, suddenly furious. ‘Why do you care?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. You already think my home is a wreck. And,’ she added, real bitterness now spiking her words, ‘I don’t recall ever asking you for advice.’ She turned on her heel—her boots splashing through a rather large puddle and, she noted with satisfaction, spraying mud onto Larenz’s jeans—and stormed back to the house without once looking back at her guest.

Chapter Three

B
ACK
at the house, Ellery rinsed off her boots and lined them up on the stone step outside. Anger still pulsed through her, making her hands tremble as she opened the back door. She was angry with herself for being angry with Larenz; he wasn’t worth the emotional energy she’d already wasted.

Not to mention her physical energy. It was late morning and she hadn’t dealt with the breakfast dishes, or made the beds, or done any of the half-dozen demands that required her attention on any given day.

Stupid, arrogant Larenz de Luca had completely thrown off her day, she thought furiously. He’d thrown more than her day off; he’d unbalanced her whole self, making her see Maddock Manor in a way she tried not to. She kept herself so busy working and trying and
striving
—all for something she knew she could never gain or keep. And Larenz, with his expensive car and clothes, his smug little smile and knowing eyes, made her realize it afresh every second she spent in his presence.

What was even more aggravating was her body’s treacherous reaction to a man she couldn’t even like. She knew just what kind of man Larenz was, had known it from the moment he’d driven up the lane in his sleek Lexus and tossed the keys on the side table in the foyer as if he owned the place. She’d seen it in the careless way he treated his lover, Amelie, and the way she responded, with a distastefully desperate fawning. And, most damningly of all, she saw it in the way he treated her, with the sweeping, speculative glances and the lazy voice of amusement. He was toying with her and enjoying it. The fact that Ellery’s body reacted at all—betrayed her—was both infuriating and shaming.