Candlelight Wish Read Free

I assist you?” His voice sounded polite but aloof.
    There was nothing aloof about his actions though. Before Phoebe could respond, he reached out, caught her about her waist and lifted her easily from her perch. Her weight troubled him not at all—which was no wonder, as insignificantly tiny as she was. Still the strength of his hands and the reassuring solidity of the chest against which she found herself pressed sent an oddly pleasurable shiver through her.
    He set her on her feet and for a moment she experienced a sense of loss as he withdrew his support. Ridiculous of course but the sheer power of the man washed over her, making her vividly aware of his nearness.
    His brow lowered in a frown but before he could speak, Lucy broke in. “What are you doing here?” she wailed. “Oh if it isn’t just like you to appear just when—” She broke off.
    “Just when you were getting into a scrape?” He made the question sound innocent.
    “Oh I hate you!” the girl cried.
    “Of course you do,” he soothed. “But I do not believe this is the place to tell me so in detail, do you? I know this may seem an outlandish suggestion,” he added, turning back to Phoebe, “but you might find it much easier to enter if you simply apply the door knocker.”
    “No!” cried Lucy.
    Phoebe eyed him with speculation. “A kindhearted gentleman,” she suggested, “might help us to gain entry without announcing it to the household.”
    “But I am not a kindhearted gentleman. I am a brother—and a guardian.” And with that he mounted the steps and suited action to words.
    Lucy cowered and Phoebe glared at his back. A most disobliging brother , she fumed but already the maid Sarah opened the door to them and only one course presented itself to Phoebe. She swept up the stairs, pushing Lucy before her, then turned on the threshold and held out her hand to Lucy’s brother. “I must thank you again for escorting us home, sir. Come, Lucilla, it is time and past you were in your bed. Good night, sir,” she added over her shoulder.
    “But we have not yet finished our discussion.” Somehow he stood in the darkened entry hall just behind her, the door firmly closed to the street.
    “It is quite late,” she protested, inserting a note of authority into her voice.
    He ignored it. “I shall not keep you long. Is there an office we might use or would you rather remain here?”
    Here where every girl in the school who chose to peer over the banister might hear. She forced a smile to her lips. “The music room perhaps?”
    “Miss Caldicot,” whispered Lucy, her voice strained, her expression one of extreme anxiety.
    “Run along to bed, Lucilla. I feel certain your brother will call again tomorrow.”
    “You may depend upon that.” He regarded Lucy with a creased brow.
    The girl sniffed, cast one last appealing glance at Phoebe then made her way up the stairs. Phoebe knew a temptation to follow her but forced herself to light a taper from the single candle that burned in the hall then crossed to the room where she had spent many an unpleasant afternoon with her music classes.
    She lit the nearest candelabrum and heard the door close with a fatalistic thud. Well she was for it now, she supposed. Gathering her courage, she turned to face him and saw him clearly for the first time.
    He swept a shallow curly beaver from his head, revealing a riot of thickly curling hair that in the indifferent light might have been any dark shade. It gleamed with mahogany highlights. Wide-set eyes studied her from above a nose with a decidedly aquiline cast and a generous mouth curved upward in a cool assessing smile that nevertheless turned her knees to jelly. If she were of the same nature as her romantically inclined pupils, he might set her heart fluttering. As it was his effect on her bore a distinct resemblance to the time one of the younger girls had catapulted into her stomach.
    With an unusual measure of difficulty, she commanded her voice.