Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,9
then fell into step behind them as they made their way through the dark woods to her home. When they got to the road that led to Owen’s home, he handed Nash’s things to her, and then Owen bade them an awkward farewell, as if he did not want to depart.
“Let’s meet tomorrow,” she told Owen. “We’ll work on your swimming again.”
“We can meet at the bridge,” Owen said, and to Lilias’s delight, Nash agreed, though he did sound a trifle reluctant.
Once Owen departed, Nash strode along toward her house for a moment, and Lilias racked her mind for a way to ask him about his family that was not too intrusive. She’d seen a family portrait on one of her visits, and there was a boy and young girl in the painting who had to be his siblings.
“Do I truly look heavy?” she asked, unable to think of a better way to start the conversation.
“No. You look perfect, and you’re light as a feather.” His compliment would have made her smile, except he sounded irritated, and he picked up his pace, as if he wanted to be rid of her. At this rate, they’d be at her house in no time.
Blast. She wanted to learn something about him.
“Then why did you tell Owen I looked heavy?”
He paused, glancing down at her. In the moonlight, she could just make out his face and see his eyebrows arch. “Sorry about that. I didn’t consider it might hurt your feelings. I was trying to ensure that Owen was not embarrassed if he couldn’t carry you.”
Her chest tightened at his words. “You’re quite nice.”
“No. No, I’m not, Lilias,” Nash replied and started walking once more. Silence stretched for a long time, and as her home came into view, Nash said, “But Owen seems to be truly nice. He reminds me of my brother.”
“You have a brother?” she asked, refusing to feel guilty about not mentioning the portrait she’d seen.
“Not anymore.” His clipped tone did not invite questions, so she bit her lip as he set her on her feet. He took his belongings from her, silence stretching and nearly killing her, and then he slowly put on his shoes. When he finally stood, she thought it likely he’d simply leave, but he said, “He died last year.”
His words stole her breath, and for a moment she recalled the image of the light-haired boy in the portrait. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. How did he die?”
“He drowned.”
The pain in Nash’s voice pierced Lilias’s heart. She inhaled a long, steadying breath as her own grief over the loss of her father rose to the surface. “Is that why you decided to help me teach Owen to swim?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “How will you get back into your house unnoticed?” he asked, changing the subject.
“The tree I used to get down.”
“With that injury?”
“I’ll manage.” Her ankle ached terribly, but she didn’t want to admit it—nor did she want him to leave yet. “It’s very selfless of you to help Owen.”
“No, it’s not. I’m hoping to get something out of it,” he said. “Where’s the tree?”
She pointed to her bedchamber, and he put an arm around her waist and helped her over. “What do you hope to get out of teaching Owen to swim?”
He slid his arm from her waist, but his fingers lingered on her arm, as if to ensure she was steady before releasing her. Nash Steele, the Marquess of Chastain, as she’d discovered from his butler, was a protector whether he knew it or not. His touch disappeared, and she felt the loss of it all the way to her toes. They stood in silence for several breaths, and she was beginning to think he was not going to answer her.
Finally, he said, “Redemption.”
The word was low and throbbing. It caused an ache in her gut. “For what?” she whispered.
Again, they stood in silence, this pause longer. An owl hooted from a tree above, and her dogs, who always slept in her bedchamber, began to bark in response. Lights started flickering in the window to the right of her bedchamber. Nora. The ninny. She was afraid of every little sound, and soon she would wake their mother.
“What do you wish redemption for?” she urged him, her heart pounding with the knowledge that she had to hurry and make her way up the tree to the safety of her bedchamber.
A sigh filled the space between them. “My brother’s death,” Nash finally said. “I killed him.”