stair. It was only just wide enough for one person and she was obliged to hold up her skirts as she climbed the steep steps. A series of tiny windows sent shafts of dazzling sunlight across her path, making it difficult to see the next step.
When they reached the top he threw open the door and the light flooded in.
‘Do you not keep it locked?’
‘No need. My servants never come up here.’ He turned and reached down for her. ‘Give me your hand. There is no handrail and these last few stairs are uneven.’
His fingers curled around her hand, warm and secure as he guided her up the final steps to the roof. She found herself on a flat roof, paved over with stone slabs and surrounded by a crenellated parapet.
‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I feel I am on top of the world.’
She became aware that the major was still holding her hand and looked up at him warily. Immediately he released her. She gazed out across the hills, her hands clutched against her breastbone.
‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ He stood beside her, the rough wool of his jacket rubbing against her bare arm. ‘Do not go too near the edge and do not lean against the battlements,’ he warned her. ‘The stonework is in poor condition.’
‘But you will repair it, won’t you, Major? I cannot bear to think that this view would be lost.’ She swung round and peeped up at him, trying and failing to suppress a smile. ‘Even though you are adamant you will not be having any guests here.’
The answering gleam in his eyes made her own smile grow and she gazed up at him quite unselfconsciously, thinking how much better he looked when he was not scowling at everyone and everything. In fact, she did not even notice his scarred face when he looked at her in just that way.
The playful breeze tugged a lock of hair free from her sensible topknot and whipped it across her face. She was going to sweep it away, but Dominic’s hand came up first and his fingers caught the errant curl.
Zelah held her breath. Their eyes were still locked, and instead of removing his hand after tucking the curl behind her ear, he allowed it to slip to her neck while he ran his thumb lightly along her jaw. Her heart began to pound against her ribs and she kept her hands clenched across her breast as if to prevent it breaking free. Her mouth dried. There was an almost forgotten ache curling inside her. Anxiety? Excitement?
With his hand on her neck he held her as surely as if she was in chains. She could not move. Indeed, she did not want to move, she wanted him to lower his head and kiss her. She wanted to feel his hands undressing her, exploring her body.
Oh dear heaven, where had such wanton ideas come from?
Something of her thoughts flickered in her eyes and immediately he released her. Zelah switched her gaze to the view, trying to recall what they were saying. Ah, yes. She had been teasing him. Well, that was clearly a very dangerous thing to do.
The major cleared his throat. ‘If you have seen enough, perhaps we should go back downstairs.’
‘Yes.’ She was anxious to get away from his disturbing presence. ‘Yes, of course.’
She went carefully down the steep spiral, one hand on the wall. Her legs were shaking and she was very conscious of Major Coale following her down. When they reached the landing she hurried on to the wooden stairs, halting only when she heard the major’s voice behind her.
‘I have to collect my hat and whip. Feel free to make use of the room if you wish, Miss Pentewan. I have no objection.’
‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out and glanced back at him. He was standing once again in the doorway, blocking the light and enveloping her in his shadow. Binding her to him by some force beyond her comprehension.
Zelah gave herself a mental shake. Fanciful nonsense. She must not give in to it. She nodded, trying to sound businesslike. ‘If there is nothing else, sir, I shall go home now.’
‘No, nothing.’
Dominic watched her hasten away. Her hand looked unsteady on the banister, but she descended the stairs without mishap and disappeared from sight.
He exhaled, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. He had not meant to frighten her, but when they were up on the roof and she stood before him, her eyes shining with excitement, he had felt the desire slam through him. He should have known better. He could have moved away, turned his back on her, but the craving to touch her was so strong that he had given in to it. Even now he could feel her skin beneath his thumb, soft as a flower petal. And she had not moved away. Petrified, he thought sourly, for an instant later he had seen the horror in her face.
What if he had frightened her so much that she did not return tomorrow? Perhaps that would be for the best. She unsettled him, with her teasing and her challenging questions. He squared his shoulders. He was a soldier. He would not be beaten by this slip of a girl! They had an agreement and he would not be the one to break it. Let her come to Rooks Tower and organise his library. But perhaps it would be wise if he kept out of her way.
The walk back to West Barton did much to calm Zelah’s disordered nerves. She had allowed herself to relax in Major Coale’s company. After all, one did not tease a gentleman, unless he was a relative, or a very close friend. Certainly one did not tease an employer. She must be more careful. No one knew better than she the consequences of becoming too familiar with a gentleman!
Each evening at dinner Maria and Reginald asked Zelah about her day at Rooks Tower. They were naturally interested in her progress, but even more concerned about the behaviour of her employer. Each time Zelah was able to reply with complete sincerity that she had not seen Major Coale. For the first few days after the incident on the tower roof she was relieved that they did not meet, but gradually his elusiveness began to frustrate her. She had many questions to ask him and was obliged to leave notes, asking where he wanted certain books and how he would like them arranged. His answer, via the butler or Mrs Graddon, was always the same, ‘The master says to do as you think best and he will discuss it with you later.’
It was nearly two weeks before she saw Major Coale again. By that time she had removed all the books from their crates and was working on making a record of every title, bringing small piles of books to the large mahogany desk to list in one of the ledgers provided.
It was a particularly sunny day and the room was uncomfortably warm, so Zelah had removed the fine muslin scarf from her shoulders and tossed it aside while she worked. She heard footsteps approaching and looked up, expecting to see Graddon or one of the footmen bringing refreshments, and she was taken by surprise when Major Coale strode in. He looked as if he had come direct from the stables; his hat was tucked under his arm and in one hand he carried his gloves and riding crop. His riding jacket hung open, displaying an embroidered waistcoat that fitted across his broad chest as snugly as the tight buckskins that covered his thighs. There was only the slightest drag on his right leg and his step was firm, brisk. He exuded energy.
Nonplussed, Zelah reached for her scarf and quickly knotted it across her shoulders as she rose and came around the desk to greet him.
His brows twitched together, the slight movement accentuating the ragged scar and deepening the unsmiling look into something resembling a scowl as they approached each other. Zelah tried not to feel intimidated.
‘Have you come to see how I progress?’ She summoned up a smile. ‘The rooms looks much better without all the boxes, I think.’ She waved her hand towards the bookshelves. ‘Of course, they are not yet in any great order, but this way it is easier to see just what books we have.’ She became more natural as she warmed to her theme. ‘I need you to tell me how you want them arranged. Are you happy to have sermons and music ranked alongside books on ratcatching, shoeing horses and draining bogs?’
She observed a definite glint of humour in his eyes, albeit reluctant.
‘I doubt if that is how you would place them. I think the last three should be grouped with estate management.’
‘And your novels,