Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Beth had to act her chaperone the next morning as once again Blanche found herself on the receiving end of a violently thrown boot when she tried to rouse Nicola.

Today, Nathaniel didn't follow the normal route they had the previous two days through the woodlands, instead veering straight ahead across the estate, cutting quickly through the forest and emerging onto an expanse of a short, flat plain of grass. Blanche followed in his wake curiously, wondering at the change in regimen, while he led them to the other end where the ruins of an old stone wall remained, and drew to a halt to study the area.

He hadn't forced her to run today, he hadn't even acknowledged her when she emerged from the house dressed in the same breeches and overlarge shirt that she had rolled up to her elbows. Although the pace had been brisk, and her muscles were aching after the strain of the last two days, it appeared that today's program would be less demanding than the others.

Lest she thought too soon, she quelled the relief that surged through her and went to sit on one fallen stone from the fence, crossing her leg over the other as she observed him in silence, while Beth placed herself nearby on another stone. Even though she was used to seeing him dressed casually, Blanche couldn't help but stir at the sight of him.

It was yet dawn, only dim light streaking the horizon, and Nathaniel dropped to his haunches and flicked open the carved wooden box he had carried with him, placed on the naturally flat top of one fallen stone nearby, presumably to torment her with something later on. She watched him with open admiration as he worked with something from within the box, his legs long and strong before him, the ripples of the muscles in his forearms, the dark ribbons of hair that escaped the queue and fell against the side of his face... his honey-coloured eyes that were looking directly at her.

A spasm of need shot through her meeting that gaze, a flush slithering up her neck and scoured her cheeks. Then Nathaniel cocked his brow at her and his lips twitched to one side. "Come here, Blanche."

His voice licked over her skin as if he were beckoning her like a lover, and perhaps he was. He hadn't spoken to her except for a curt greeting earlier and the last time she had spoken to him had been when she had called his kiss pleasant. The worst lie she had ever told. That kiss had rendered her senseless, altered and changed the course of her reality until she wasn't sure which parts of her body were liquid fire or solid mass.

If Nathaniel Southill knew how much one of his kisses had destroyed Blanche Blackwood, he wouldn't want anything more to do with her.

And she wasn't done with him... not yet.

She rolled to her feet and padded lightly over to him with her arms behind her back, dropping her eyes to what he had concealed inside the box. From her vantage point above him, Nathaniel was eye-level with her stomach, but she was focused solely on the pistols within the case laid out before him to notice the intensity behind his gaze for too long.

"Are you calling me out?" she asked, studying the beautiful patterns engraved on the grips of the duplicate weapons.

"With Beth as your second?" he snorted, following her stare. "No, I'm going to teach you how to use one."

Pleasantly surprised by this, Blanche felt excitement course through her body at the notion. She had never been allowed to shoot a pistol before, though she had often seen the lavish cases and various hunting rifles her father had collected and locked away in his study. Jason had not followed in his father's footsteps in that regard and the weapons lay mostly dormant as the newest Marquis of Northwick showed little interest in hunting, but they were still displayed behind a locked glass cabinet. "Really?" she squeaked, and he frowned at the octave of her voice. "Sorry, I've just never been allowed to use one before."