Then a miracle happened.
Lord Daniel began to snore. Not gentle little rumbles. Not distant growls. Lord Daniels had a snore that was the equal of a tiger roaring in the jungle. She’d never actually heard the sound, but this was exactly what she thought it would sound like. A growling, snorting, thunder of a sound that carried easily into her bedroom.
It reassured her as nothing else. As long as she heard that sound, the man was asleep.
She began to relax. Her breath matched his rhythm. Her eyes drifted shut. She tuned herself to his steady, reverberating snores, and she slept.
Chapter Five
Daniel came awakeslowly. He could tell by the morning birdsong and the sunlight that it was well past his normal hour to rise. No surprise there. He was used to hard labor some days, but noteveryday as had been his lot this past week. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than to lie in his bed and think about the beautiful woman in the next bedchamber.
Damn it, he hadn’t known how gorgeous she was. In London, he’d seen her for a brief, confusing moment when she’d been running and he’d been admiring her art. Last night, the lantern light had hit her full, unveiled face, and the shock of her beauty had rooted him to the floor. The black silk of her hair framed a smooth face with enchanting dark eyes. Her lips had been soft, her expression wary, and yet he had stood amazed by the sweep of her cheek and curve of her chin. Her features were striking, her expression reserved. She should not have been so attractive to him, and yet lust had beat hard and hot in his body.
Only his honor had kept him from trying to touch her. Worse, he’d acted like a boor to cover up his desire. In the end, it had been an act of will to leave her at her bedroom door and return to his own.
He took a deep breath and tried to quiet his lust. He was generally a patient man—especially when trying to woo an artist to sell to him—but Miss Lina had already tested his resolve. Once he’d discovered her identity at the Lyon’s Den, he’d tried to call upon the Abacus Lady only to discover that she spoke to no one. His only recourse had been Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who had been a frustrating intermediary.
Will she sell me her paintings? No.
Will she meet me face to face? No.
Will she discuss anything about her art with anyone? No.
In the end, Mrs. Dove-Lyon suggested he hire her for her bookkeeping skills, and then coax her into painting for him. Then she’d added one piece of advice. “Make sure Li-Na feels safe, otherwise you’ll get nothing from her but a bowed head and silence.”
At the time he’d thought it was the easiest thing in the world. How hard would it be to make a woman feel safe? Hell, he’d planned to make her feel not only safe, but pampered. He created the excuse for her to come check his late-brother’s accounts. She would stay at the manor home a couple miles away and work only part of the day. He’d even bought all the necessary art supplies and filled her bedroom with them.
The rest would happen naturally as he coaxed her to trust him.
Then the problems began. He’d had to leave early for Cornwall, so he couldn’t escort her here from London. That damned idiot Bob Mellin had broken his leg, necessitating Daniel’s help to keep the family alive. And a section of the manor home caved in from a storm, obliterating not only the art supplies he’d bought, but the bedroom she was supposed to use as well. Worse, his sister-in-law, her children, and servants now filled the rooms at the local inn. Where was Miss Lina supposed to go? The only decent place left was the castle, and so here she was.
He’d thought it was an acceptable compromise until last night. Good God, the woman had been terrified. That was his only explanation for the way she’d stood with her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her. As if even lifting her head would earn her a beating. And the more he tried to make her comfortable, the worse it got.
He’d escorted her to her room. It was a castle, for God’s sake. Castles did not have hallways. The only way to her chamber wasthroughhis, and in his idiocy, he hadn’t realized how that would look to her. Especially since her one narrow window was blocked by debris and boarded up. She probably spent the night in terror of being ravaged by him.
But he didn’t know how to reassure her. And until the manor home was repaired, there was nowhere else to put her. The best he could offer her was solitude. He would instruct her in her bookkeeping duties, and then disappear. New art supplies were due in from London this morning. Mrs. Hocking would pick them up before she came to cook. In time, he hoped Miss Lina would learn to trust him.
Daniel grunted as he got out of bed, using the motion to stretch and adjust stiff muscles. His morning ablutions took extra time without benefit of his valet who was off visiting his mother in London. Daniel was counting the seconds until the man returned.
By the time he was dressed in the most minimal attire for a gentleman, his stomach was grumbling for food and his brain wanted strong, dark tea. He wondered what she wanted in the morning. Was she even awake yet?
He crossed through the workroom while making as much noise as possible. He cleared his throat, purposely kicked his wardrobe as he passed it, then bumped into his desk and muttered a curse when pain radiated up his hip. If she wasn’t awake from that racket, then she slept like the dead.
“Miss Lina? I apologize for disturbing you, but I find I’m no good without a strong cup of tea in the morning. Would you like some? I would welcome your company, but if you’re still resting from your journey, then I shall be on my way.” He paused, listening intently for some sound from the opposite side of the sturdy door. “Miss Lina?”
“I am over here,” came a soft voice from behind him.
He spun around, and damn it, he was too big a man to spin easily in such a small space. He managed to do it without knocking anything over, but he needed to be careful of the vases set on the table to the right of her doorway. He scanned the room, seeing her standing in the shadowy back corner of the room. She stood like a statue, and indeed, he’d thought her one given that he’d recently had a large piece stored there. But of course, he’d sold it a month ago and now she was there, her head dipped down and her hands folded in front of her. She wore a gown of dark gray on her slender body and her hair was pinned atop her head with such severity that he wondered if it gave her a headache. And yet he reminded her of a doll he’d seen of an elegant Chinese woman. Her hair was pinned up, her face blanched white, and there was an arch to her neck that spoke of refinement. Miss Yen wasn’t dressed as colorfully as that doll, but he saw her beauty nonetheless and had to clear his throat to keep the hunger from his voice.
“Good morning, Miss Lina. I didn’t see you back there.”
She dipped into an elegant curtsey. “I apologize, my lord. I woke early and thought to get to work.” She gestured with one finger toward the account book open beside her.
“You didn’t need to start so early. Good lord…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t imagine looking at accounts without tea. Strong tea that makes your eyes open and stops…” He cut off his words. He was about to finish it with a phrase he’d learned from an old army campaigner. But he doubtedstops your prick from running your brainwas a phrase she’d appreciate. “Um, stops me from making mistakes.”
She didn’t respond to that, merely stood there with her head bowed and her hands folded.
“Have you been beaten?” he blurted.