Charis stirred to mark the change in the landscape but was too tired to ponder its significance. She stretched stiff muscles and bit back a moan as the movement tested her injuries. With a sigh she couldn’t restrain, she leaned her head back against the seat, hoping to heaven there wasn’t another night of travel ahead. She was heartily sick of the rattling, bumping coach.

They continued for another half hour or so. Interlacing branches above the rutted track turned the interior of the carriage into shadowy mystery. In his corner, Sir Gideon was a silent, magnetic presence, his long legs stretched across the well between the benches, his arms crossed over his hard chest. She had no idea whether he was asleep or pretending.

To her regret, Charis knew she looked like she’d been dragged through a bush. She’d been a fright yesterday, and the day’s traveling would only worsen her appearance. Since he’d changed his clothes, Gideon had regained his louche elegance. Even the faint beard darkening his jaw enhanced his masculine appeal, adding a rakish air to his chiseled features. She closed her eyes and told herself to think of something other than Sir Gideon. A command impossible to obey.

Through her fog of discomfort and exhaustion, Charis heard Tulliver shout and felt the carriage shudder to a halt. She opened dazed eyes. They’d left the wood, and late sunlight flooded through the windows.

She leaned her head out the window and looked up at the grizzled figure in the driver’s seat. “Why have we stopped, Tulliver?”

“Look, miss.” He gestured with his whip. “Penrhyn.”

With a glance at Sir Gideon’s motionless figure, she forced her tired muscles into ungainly movement. She scrambled from the coach and turned in the direction Tulliver indicated.

And fell in love at first sight.

They were on a slight rise. Behind stretched the woods they’d just driven through. In front, the land sloped gently down to the cliffs. Beyond was the glory of the sea, deep blue in the fading light.

Part of sky, sea, wild landscape was the house perched on the edge of the cliffs, looking westward. Centuries old. Worn. Welcoming, even at this distance. Its soft golden stone glowed in the long rays of sunlight. Penrhyn called to Charis across the pale winter grass that trembled in the fresh sea breeze.

“It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from the house to look at Gideon, who emerged from the carriage behind her. He’d been nurtured in this glorious place. No wonder he was so remarkable. She swallowed to shift the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat at the house’s perfect beauty. “It’s magnificent.”

He stopped beside her, close enough for her to be aware of his commanding height. She wasn’t an especially short woman, but he made her feel small and fragile. Her heart did its usual dip and leap at his nearness. How she wished she could control her foolish reactions.

“Yes, it is.” His voice was calm. Artificially so, she guessed. Although his striking face was impassive, she couldn’t mistake the tension in his lean frame. “I wondered if it had changed. It hasn’t.”

Charis frowned, confused by the currents swirling beneath his calm surface. For someone who had left his home many years ago, he appeared less than overjoyed to be back. “How could you bear to stay away for so long?”

Sudden emotion darkened his face, and his eyes burned as they met hers. The searing look lasted barely a second before he returned his attention to the old house. “How can I bear to come back?” he muttered, seemingly against his will.

“You sound like you hate it,” she said, aghast.

He shook his head, and a lock of black hair fell across his forehead. “No, I love it. That’s what makes everything so impossible.”

The corrosive honesty of his response flooded her with astonishment. Sir Gideon didn’t strike her as a confiding man. That he revealed as much as he did indicated his turmoil.

With an abrupt movement, he turned on his heel and climbed back into the carriage. Shocked, bewildered, Charis watched him go. It was as though he couldn’t bear to look on his inheritance any longer. But for a moment, the hardness in his gaze had shattered, and she’d glimpsed a longing that made her heart stutter.

She wished to the depths of her being that she understood him. She wished to the depths of her being that he considered her worthy of his confidence. More than either, she wished she could do something to ease his unspoken anguish.

But she was a stranger. A brief visitor to his life. She had no significance for him beyond the present moment.

She glanced up at Tulliver, who had witnessed the whole exchange with his usual sangfroid. There was a light in his eyes that might have been understanding and was certainly pity.

For whom? Sir Gideon? Or the pathetically infatuated Miss Watson?

His voice was kind. “You might as well get back in, miss. We’ve got a mile or so to go.”

Charis’s shoulders sagged with weariness, and she limped after Gideon into the vehicle. Tulliver whipped the horses to a canter as they turned for the house. Gideon settled into his corner and stared out the window.

The sun plunged toward the sea in flaming glory by the time they passed through a crumbling stone arch and into the paved courtyard in front of Penrhyn. A closer viewing revealed the house was shabby and unkempt, but nothing could destroy the enchantment it laid over Charis. An enchantment indelibly part of the yearning she felt for its master.

“Parts stretch back to the fifteenth century, although most of it is Elizabethan.” They were the first words Gideon had spoken since that tense, revealing moment on the rise.

“It’s beautiful.”

He gave a short, caustic laugh. Through the dimness, she read the derision on his face. “Believe me, your enthusiasm will wane when you get inside to a cold house and damp sheets and a makeshift supper—if we manage any supper at all.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net