Chapter 18
Michael glanced around at the young woman tiptoeing across the terrace with a glass of brandy in her hand. That Iris knew he was sitting on the steps at three o’clock in the morning came as no shock on a night like this. Poor girl. He knew she fancied him. She was wrapped up like a mummy, a cloak fastened at the throat over her nightclothes, her cap covering half her forehead.
“Oh, sir,” she whispered, handing him the brandy before she dropped down onto the step below. “Why did you allow it to happen? No, you did more than that. Not only did you allow it, but you encouraged it. Passing your sister over to a stranger, a man immersed in things I don’t want to believe exist.”
He looked down into her worried face. Hard to see how green her eyes were in the dark. “I allowed it because I love her and didn’t want her to be without a protector for the rest of her life.” The brandy did not appeal to him. He set the glass beside him on the step. “You helped her as much as I did. Why?”
She sighed and fussed about with her cloak. Michael supposed she’d never sat alone with a man except him before. “I’m as guilty as you, it’s true. I couldn’t stand back and become the maid to a lonely spinster, committing us both to lives of misery. Now look what happened. Murder plots and a sudden marriage. How well do you know the earl? You didn’t give me a decent answer in the woods.”
He folded his arms over his knees, propping his chin on his wrist. “I know he’s a brave fighter. He’s ambitious and he keeps his thoughts to himself. I’m not surprised he’s involved in suppressing a revolt. He’s one of those men who always has to prove himself, and I can’t say why.”
“Oh,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I was afraid of that. You’re never going to set down roots, are you, sir?”
“Who knows?” he said with a laugh.
“The lady who wins your heart had best be prepared to make a home wherever you lead her.”
“So, you haven’t any urge to wander, Iris? No desire to travel and see the world?”
“No, sir. Even sitting out here on the steps makes me long for home fires.”
He pulled a gold curl loose from the back of her cap. “Why didn’t I ever realize how lovely you are?”
“For the same reason I pretended not to notice that you are a delightful rogue.”
He tugged on her curl. “You’re like a sister to me.”
“You’re like the brother I’m glad I never had.”
He let go of her curl. “But you aren’t my sister.”
She pulled off the cap and shook out her hair.
He watched it unravel like a spool of deep gold thread. “Look what you’ve done to me. I hate it when my hair is untidy and I have no comb.”
“You look fetching,” he said quietly. “I feel almost like Rumpelstiltskin.”
She tucked her hair back under her cap. “A brother would never say that.”
He wanted to pull off her cap again and ask her to walk with him in the garden. “But you’re not my sister.”
“Is the earl— Please tell me again how well you know him.”
He took the glass of brandy she had brought him and emptied its contents into an urn overflowing with geraniums. “I know him well enough that he is the last man I would have chosen for Emily.”
“Sir!”
“But now that her life is endangered, I can’t think of a man I’d rather choose to be her husband.”