Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,20

a gleaming black-and-white marble, which the butler’s shoes tapped against as he walked, and marble pillars stood on either side of the interior hall like soldiers guarding the family within. The floors in Lilias’s own, much smaller townhome were dull and chipped. The whole home needed repair, but there was no money to do it, and her uncle had not offered.

They paused, and the butler took her wrap, and as he left her to set the wrap aside, she gazed into the dining room, which was just barely visible. A beautiful marble fireplace was the centerpiece, and it was accompanied by crystal sconces and a breathtaking, shimmering chandelier. She imagined Nash sitting there across from his sister and mother. Were they close? She did not even truly know. He had not talked of his parents much except when he’d told her how they’d expected him to watch over his sickly brother and let him win at things. She was sure they’d only wanted to protect his younger brother, though they had done so at Nash’s expense.

When the butler returned, he said, “If you’ll follow me to the parlor.”

Lilias nodded, though a sudden thought struck her. If Nash was not with his sister, which he very well likely might not be, how would she manage to see him? She racked her brain to think of some excuse she could use, but she need not have for there at the bottom of one of the grandest staircases she’d ever seen stood Nash and Adaline, talking animatedly. They did not notice the butler, nor her, and Lilias took the opportunity to drink him in. The picture he presented stole her breath.

The kilt he wore instantly brought a smile to her lips. Did he still wear it to annoy his mother? Had he managed to get a reaction from her over the years? His calves had become even more titillating over time, if that were possible. They were the calves of a man who was not idle. Age had served him very, very well, the devil. The images that filled her head as she stared at his bare legs would have shocked the bawdiest of sailors. She forced herself to look upward and inched her gaze over his long, sinewy legs, up over his slim hips, and farther still to his chest, proportioned to make an artist weep. She finally stopped at his broad shoulders, which looked like the perfect place to rest her head and listen to his the rich timbre of his voice.

He waved a hand in the air as he spoke to his sister, and Lilias followed the motion, noting that his bottle-green coat was clearly the work of a master tailor. His cravat was untied and hung down his chest, as if he’d recently jerked on it in irritation. His hair, still just as gleaming, dark, and thick, made her want to thread her fingers through it as she had longed to do so many years before. He had a darker shadow of stubble on his beautiful face than she remembered, but it only lent him a more rugged appearance. He stopped talking suddenly as Lilias and the butler passed the window that put them midway to the staircase. Nash looked toward them, and for one breath, he appeared so exquisitely happy to see her that all the years of missing him, hating him, loving him, yearning for him did not matter. Nothing mattered but him.

“Lilias.” There was a faint tremor in his voice, as if some deep emotion had touched him. She felt it in her bones.

“Greybourne, how do you know Lady Lilias?” Lady Adaline asked, studying him rather intently.

The question did something to him, something that made Lilias come to a shuddering halt. His gray eyes, which had been clinging to her, became hooded. His face became impassive, but his stance was rigid. He glanced at his sister. “She is our neighbor in the Cotswolds. I met her when we first moved there.” He chucked his sister’s chin in a loving, protective gesture that made Lilias’s chest squeeze. “You never met her, Adaline, because Mother always had you in some sort of etiquette lessons.”

“Well, that explains that,” Lady Adaline murmured, looking as if she were thinking about something. “Lady Lilias, I’m so glad you have called!” She came toward Lilias, shiny black curls bouncing against her slender shoulders incased in expensive blue silk, and arms outstretched. She grasped both of Lilias’s hands, and Lilias had to force herself