Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,16
her closer and whispered things he shouldn’t.
Sophia avoided his gaze. “Are you coming to bed?”
His stomach twisted into knots. Mother of all saints. Could she not be more careful with her words?
“No.” He swallowed numerous times. “I need to think and cannot do so upstairs.”
“You need sleep, too, Finlay.”
“Yes.”
She paused. “Well, good night.” Hesitated. “Remember, Dr Goodwin will be here tomorrow.”
“Yes.” He was keen to meet the incompetent individual. “Good night.”
Sophia left him standing in the draughty expanse of the great hall, cold and alone. Twice, she looked back over her shoulder. Twice, he prayed she didn’t say something to weaken his resolve.
He waited for a few minutes before heading out through the front door. The crisp night air brought a welcome relief from the suffocating confines of Blackborne. He looked to the inky sky and the scattering of stars and managed to breathe freely again.
As always, his thoughts turned to Sophia, but he pushed them aside and strode towards the small chapel. He’d not set foot inside a church since the day of Hannah’s funeral. A man had to direct his anger somewhere, at someone. Tonight, even his duty to the Order could not make him cross the threshold.
He might have lingered in the doorway, cursing in the dark, had he not been distracted by a light in the upper landing window. A black silhouette stood peering through the leaded panes. The light disappeared, only to return seconds later. It happened again, one burst of candlelight, then nothing.
Finlay stepped out onto the forecourt in a bid to identify the shadowy figure. For a brief second, they locked gazes before the person scampered back. Perhaps Jessica was sleepwalking. Perhaps Sophia heard him leave the house and feared he’d gone into the woods. Perhaps Mrs Friswell was making her nightly rounds.
Instinct said not.
Instinct said someone was sending a message.
A message to a stranger lurking in the woods.
Chapter 5
“Ah, good morning, my lady.”
Dr Goodwin strode into the dining room as if he were master of Blackborne. Being Sophia’s only confidant throughout Jessica’s illness, the doctor behaved more like a family member than a hired practitioner. As a gentleman, he preferred his payment delivered discreetly, which was why he ventured to the bureau at the far end of the room and slipped the folded notes into his coat pocket.
“And how has our patient been this week?” the doctor said, helping himself from the breakfast platters. He always arrived in a cheerful mood, left looking tired and world-weary.
Sophia dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “We had another sleepwalking incident.”
“Another trip to the woods?” Dr Goodwin flicked his coat-tails and sat in the seat opposite. He brushed a swathe of brown hair from his brow, looked ready to upbraid her for not moving Jessica to the hospital in Oxford. “I trust you recovered her without harm or injury?”
“Blent found her and carried her home.”
The doctor tutted as he cut into a thick slice of ham as quickly as he might saw a limb. “One more knock to the head and you will lose her for good.” He cleared his throat. “Did she say what drew her outside?”
“No, but she had regressed to a happier time when she was in love with Mr Archer. She seemed convinced she would soon marry the gentleman, and it took Blent’s soothing words to settle her.”
Dr Goodwin was about to reply, but the thud of footsteps on the stairs captured their attention. Finlay would disapprove of the doctor eating at the dining table. Not because he had lofty notions of propriety, but because he believed she was too trusting.
She braced herself, ready to lock gazes with the man who made her heart weep and soar simultaneously. Still, nothing prepared her for the way her blood rushed wildly through her veins when Finlay entered the room.
A host of fantasies bombarded her mind. She imagined them married, him more ravenous for her than he was for his breakfast. Uncontrollable appetites would have him clearing a space on the table, lowering her down and driving so deep into her aching body she would forget they had ever been parted.
Finlay’s gaze shot to Dr Goodwin, but he gave no sign he was surprised, nor did he come to an abrupt halt and wait for her to make the introductions.
It was the doctor who dropped his cutlery, the doctor who looked so aghast one would think a vagrant had wandered in and snatched the sliced ham from the platter.
The brittle silence stretched until Finlay settled