^^^Dedicated to LoveLessLullaby for your support and voting! :)^^^
***
Greyson followed Williams, all too aware of Charlie's thudding steps as she trailed behind them. Greyson wasn't surprised the scamp had followed. The lady had more courage and gumption than anyone he had ever met.
Hell, her scent of lilac had twined about his body like rope well before he had ever alighted himself of her. For the hundredth time in as many minutes, Greyson loathed that he had taken advantage of the lady. Entered her private bedchambers knowing in the pulsing of his blood and the throb in his loins that he wouldn't be able to resist her. Knew Charlie was missing the final piece in their game - that he knew of her gender. Her identity.
What kind of man did it make him that hadn't been able to care?
As soon as she had spread her arms to him, Greyson had been lost. His feet had moved over the hollow floorboards and he had been atop her. Kissing her.
Hell, she had been kissing him.
Greyson's skin itched, his senses heightened, as he tried to bury his awareness of her. But that damned lilac teased his nostrils - so soothing and so damned enticing all at once.
Just like the lady herself.
His attraction to her hadn't diminished in the least, Greyson realized. It had only grown with his brief taste of her.
He felt himself thicken remembering his actions only moments before. When had the she-devil shed her innocent and hesitant disguise and switched to the lioness damned answers of him. Demanding his response.
Greyson could have groaned. If only she had known.
Shaking off the plaguing thoughts, Greyson forced himself to look upon the destruction of his stables. It hadn't been an accident. Something Greyson had known in some recess of his thoughts as true.
It explained the nightmare of last evening.
The cloying fatalistic sense that everything he held dear was at risk. The fire licking at his heels. Charlie, dancing and always out of reach only to disappear into a black pit. Then the wolf.
Greyson shivered.
To what purpose did someone seek him harm? He wondered. Who was this adversary who had declared war upon his person?
Why him?
And devil take it, why the bloody hell now?
It seemed he would get no answers.
Part of Greyson stopped to wonder if he was even asking the right questions?
Charlie blasphemed behind him and Greyson glanced over his shoulder in time to see Charlie right herself. She glared at the plank she had tripped over, half hidden by fallen dirt and rock. "Blimey, but that was close," she grumbled.
He chuckled at her put-upon expression, realizing her boot's appeared rather too large for her feet. His amusement was met with a fierce glare, her eyes sparking like banked lightning.
"What did I tell ye?" Williams mumbled bringing Greyson's attention back before him. Williams words were soft, low enough that Charlie couldn't hear. "I bluidy told the lass to be careful. But does anyone listen? Nay. I get bluidy scolded for motherin'. It's insulting!"
Greyson snorted, unable to keep the smirk from his face.
Your man is mothering me.
Greyson had never heard something so absurd in his life, and yet, it was in the rigid lines of Williams' back as he had defended his actions in regards to Charlie nigh on five minutes ago. Concern had been evident in his tone. His cheekbones had the barest red tint as his stable master - the most dedicated man he knew with a backbone of iron and an ethic of ten men - had blushed.
Greyson shook his head, bemused.
A shock of brown hair fell into his eyes and he swiped it back, tugging on the collar of his shirt that had tumbled away from his collarbone.
What was it about Lady Charlotte that had not only him but his staff in total disarray?
Charlie brushed past him then, giving him an odd glance as she caught up to Williams. She stumbled again, her boots clumping on the ground, and Greyson broke into a deep laugh. It rumbled through his chest, shocking him.
God, but even with sabotage in his stables - a broken axle and an attempt at arson - Greyson found himself utterly enchanted.
And her disguise did nothing to detract from her beauty. Even the shorn hair was marvelous, highlighting the dimple in her chin and the heart-shaped delicacy of her fact. It made the tip of her nose stand out, curved upward slightly like a pixie. Her aquamarine eyes appeared large and wide in her face - equal parts innocent and mischievous. Like the caterpillar he had compared her to the first evening. A creature who would come out at a time of her choosing.
But what, Greyson wondered, had made her hide in her cocoon to begin with?
Unfortunately the shock of the view his stable master revealed to him sent ice through his veins, and his own tentative predicament came to the forefront.
Greyson halted, swallowing hard as the sun - high in the sky - highlighting the broken bits of his once magnificent stables. It resembled nothing more than a hulking skeleton, still wisping with bits of decayed life.
It looked even more grim. Greyson had already walked through the ruined area at the first streak of dawn creeping in knowing sleep was beyond him.
Mere hours. That was all it had taken to lay half his stables to rubble. Ash, layers and layers of it, scattered on the ground, covering wet and ruined hay. One half of the stables had collapsed, a showering of wood splinters and burnt embers that had caused a mini explosion, sending shards flying.
There was no method to the destruction - simply blackened embers and the rising smoke that made his lungs seize.
He coughed into his fist, his shoulders bunching from the force of it. He saw Charlie move towards him, as if she would touch him, but she froze. Her gaze filled with sorrow as she took in what was left.
Williams stared back at him, hands on his hips as he pointed to the far corner where one stable was still half-standing.
"I beg ye to look 'ere, in that corner. What do ye see?"
Greyson closed his eyes, a hand clasping the back of his neck and squeezed. Something told him he had no wish to look.
But his duty as lord - his legacy as his father's son, his grandfather's relation - demanded it.
He opened his eyes and jolted back when a vision of the fire, laughing maniacally and flickering demonishly flickered. He blinked and it was gone.
Greyson took a few steps forwards, his cravat tightening on his neck. He had left off his waistcoat, and yet, he could feel it tight about his ribs, restricting his breath.
Was that...?
As he sat upon his calves, the musk of dank straw fought with the stale scent of smoke.
Greyson drew back, his jaw dropping as he faced Williams.
"Please tell me that is not what I think it is."
Williams glanced away, but the offending object glinted brownish-gold, drawing Greyson in as it mocked him from the corner of his eyes. A charred linen rag was in shambles under it, and Greyson reached for it, bringing the object and the cloth it to his nose.
The sting of alcohol assaulted his nostrils.
"Aye, milord. It seems someone has it out for ye, 'e do. It was nothin' but intentional, if ye ask me."
"But you would need -"
Greyson glanced about the straw, digging his hands through the debris. He bit his lips, worried he would only prick himself with a loose nail.
It would be his luck, he thought, with a growl.
He gave another sweep of his hand to the left and that was when he felt it.
Drawing it from the pile, he used the ruined linen, sweeping the dust and ash from its surface. What he saw made red descend over his eyes.
"Son of a bitch!"
"What is it?"
Her scent hit him before her shadow stretched ominously next to him. Dropping down, Charlie leaned forward and took the flint from his fingers. She brought it up to the light, watching it shift from bronze to gold and back.
Greyson focused on the new object. What he knew was needed to strike against the flint to start the fire. What would have caused sparks to catch within the liquor soaked linen. What would have drew the fire about like a phoenix and started a conflagration.
The truth of it stared Greyson right in the eye. The steel object was familiar to him. A clip.
"What's this rock?"
Greyson laughed sharply. "It isn't a rock, Charlie. That's flint."
"Flint?"
"Yes, and combined with this," Greyson held up the linen, "and struck against this," he said, showing her the clip, "it began this fire."
Greyson's lips curled as he took in the full meaning of this. Charlie's fingers jolted Greyson, a zing of awareness, as she touched his fingers, her pointer finger drawing his eye to the cilp clutched in his white knuckled grip.
"You are rubbing it quite fiercely. What is etched on it?" She pushed Greyson's thumb from the clip, and he realized belatedly that his finger had been caressing the design unknowingly.
His smile was grim. "You don't recognize it?"
Williams' shadow fell over them both, and he took the piece from Charlie's fingers. He grunted. "The family crest."
Greyson nodded coming to stand. Charlie stumbled from her crouch beside him. She stepped in front of him, scattering the ashes at her feet.
"What does this mean?"
Greyson sighed, his shoulders falling as his head fell upon his chest. He pressed his fingers into the grooves of his hips.
What did it mean?
He was afraid he knew the answer to it.
And it resided within the clip.
**Author's note: I know, I know. Another two part chapter :) It would have been overly long otherwise, and this is a PERFECT place to stop. A note that this will also be my last A/N for a bit. So many things are going to come to light in the next few chapters, so hold on to your seats and enjoy!
And a thank you to all for voting/commenting! Keep them coming! YOU ARE THE BEST! :D
VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!
***