The Lost - J. D. Robb [119]
When at last he lifted his head, she stood very still, trying to get her bearings. Her head was spinning, and she would have sworn the floor had actually tilted.
He looked equally stunned, and kept his hands firmly on her shoulders, as though anchoring himself while a storm raged within him. After some moments, he took a step back.
His deep, rich voice, with just the faint trace of brogue, washed over her. “Good night, Aidan. Sleep well.”
She watched in silence as he opened the door, stepped from the room and closed the door without so much as a backward glance.
She listened to the sound of his footsteps along the hall.
Only when his footsteps faded did she move, on trembling legs, to the bedroom.
She undressed and turned off the lights before walking to the windows. Dropping to the window seat, she stared down at the gardens, silvered with dew in the moonlight.
She drew up her knees as she sat, deep in thought. What had she gotten herself into? Nothing here was familiar. And yet nothing felt strange.
She ought to be feeling at loose ends, and yet she felt an odd sense of peace, as though she’d come home.
Home. Now, that was a joke.
It was all this luxury, she scolded herself. It would be very easy to get used to a life of such ease, and turn her back on the problems she’d left behind. But the debts would still be there when she returned. As would the unpaid taxes and insurance, and the medical bills, which would probably take a lifetime to pay.
Spying a movement in the garden, she watched as the two wolfhounds leapt from the shadows and scampered along a path. Trailing slowly behind was a tall figure.
Though still in shadow, she recognized him at once.
As she watched, Ross paused beside a stone bench and turned to look up at her window. Even though she knew he couldn’t see her in the darkness of the room, she ducked her head. A moment later, feeling foolish, she peered out the window, but he was gone.
She crossed the room and climbed into bed, determined to put him out of her mind. But try as she would, he was there, with that mocking smile, those piercing blue eyes. The press of his hand at her shoulder had brought a flood of anger. But that heart-stopping kiss had been her undoing, sending shock waves rippling through her.
Had it been a spontaneous gesture? Or had it been calculated to elicit exactly the emotions she was experiencing?
She had the feeling that there was nothing innocent about Ross Delaney. From his deliberate aloofness to the way he seemed to be always studying her, he appeared to be every inch a worldly man. No doubt he took this life of luxury for granted, and felt it was his due. A man like that would probably be amused by her small-town reaction to Cullen’s lifestyle. Not to mention her reaction to his kiss.
Still, worldly or not, he had no right to intrude in her private life, and even her sleep. Damn Ross Delaney, she thought angrily. He was certainly doing everything he could to keep this from being easy.
She’d envisioned a quick trip to Ireland, an overnight stay in a rustic lodge, and a doddering old man who would offer his apologies for wasting her time, while presenting her with a check for enough money to make a dent in her growing mountain of debt.
Now she would have to deal with a successful, sharp-minded old businessman who seemed genuinely fond of her, even if he was confused about her lineage.
Not to mention having to deal with the very handsome, very irritating self-appointed bodyguard, who was behaving as though she had deliberately come here to break the old man’s heart.
She touched a finger to her lips. She could still taste him. Could still feel the jolt when he’d put his hands on her, as though she’d dropped off the edge of the world into some strange new realm.
She found herself wondering if his reaction had been as volatile as hers. If so, there was bound to be a violent explosion of cataclysmic proportions before she