Not at all certain that she could resist the desire to allow him to do whatever he wanted to her trembling body, Brianna gave a desperate shake of her head.
“Please, Edmond.”
“Please, what?”
“Please send me to Stefan.”
Edmond stepped back, his nose flaring with something that might have been anger.
“Never.”
“But…”
“Enough.” Turning on his heel, Edmond stormed toward the door, pausing at the threshold to scowl over his shoulder. “You were foolish enough to force your way into this house. Now you will endure the consequences.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE VAST LIBRARY IN HUNTLEY House was Edmond’s favorite room.
A long rectangle with floor to ceiling length windows that overlooked the terraced garden below, it was renowned for the carved and gilded doors that had been a gift from the previous King, as well as the painted ceiling that portrayed a distant relative on a chariot bound for the Temple of Zeus.
On either side of the black and gold veined marble chimneypiece were matching English gilt gesso chairs and closer to the windows was a heavy walnut desk that had been in the Huntley family for two centuries.
It was more than the white marble floor or the towering bronze lamps, or even the Gainsborough paintings that his father had collected over the years, however, that called to Edmond’s soul.
It was the rich scent of leather-bound books and polished wood that reminded him of evenings spent with his father reading to them of distant travels, or teaching them the finer art of playing chess. Days when life had held nothing but a carefree happiness and the promise of a glorious future.
Days long past.
Storming from the anteroom and Brianna Quinn’s disturbing presence, Edmond headed unswervingly to this familiar spot, almost as if his unconscious mind was in need of the peaceful sense of refuge.
Or perhaps it was simply the fine whiskey he knew would be stashed in the bottom drawer of the massive desk.
Tossing his tall frame into the leather chair, Edmond yanked the drawer open and pulled out the spirits, then took a deep drink directly from the bottle.
Damn the wench.
He had just rescued her from the rutting animal she called a stepfather, but had she flung herself at his feet in gratitude? Had she even bothered to thank him at all?
No. All she could think of was her precious Stefan and just how swiftly she could flee to be in his comforting presence.
Well he’d be damned if he wasted his handful of servants and one of his carriages to haul her to Meadowland. Not when he was beginning to realize her aggravating presence beneath his roof might be an actual godsend.
Continuing to take deep pulls on the whiskey, Edmond brooded on the best means of turning the upheaval in his plans to his best advantage, until he was interrupted by the arrival of Boris.
The large, Russian-born man came from a long line of proud soldiers and his heritage was etched into every hard plane and angle of his massive form. But while he possessed the golden blond hair and bluntly carved features of his father, his eyes were the hazel of his English-born mother.
He also possessed an uncanny intelligence that had captured Edmond’s attention from the moment they had first met nearly six years earlier. It had taken some effort to convince Alexander Pavlovich that one of his most promising soldiers should be given over to Edmond to assist in his covert activities, but in the end, Edmond had had his way.
Once the door was firmly closed and locked, Boris shed his charade of a lumbering foreign servant to reveal the ruthless, well-trained soldier beneath.
Leaning back in his chair, Edmond set aside the whiskey bottle.
“Well?”
Boris gave a lift of his shoulder, an unexpected smile touching his lips.
“The coward returned to a house on Curzon Street.” Boris’s voice was deep, but without the thick accent he adopted when in his role as servant. With an English mother, he spoke the language as well as Edmond.