The Temptation of Your Touch by Teresa Medeiros Page B

some terrible illness? A brain fever or some exotic malady he picked up on one of his journeys perhaps?”
    Anne would have wagered Lord Dravenwood was suffering from a sickness of the heart, not the body. She knew its signs only too well, having nearly died from it herself once.
    “Whatever ails him, it’s none of our concern.” As the earl turned and began to make his way back toward the manor, she yanked the drapes shut. “IfI have anything to say about it, he’ll be gone soon enough, just like all the others.”
    Pippa hauled her bucket over to the hearth and dumped its contents on the pristine iron grate. A dark cloud of ash shot up into the air, forcing her to wave it away from her watering eyes. “If we succeed in driving him away, won’t they just send another pompous nobleman in his place?”
    “Perhaps,” Anne said firmly, hoping to hide her own doubts. “But thanks to our diligent efforts, the infamy of the White Lady of Cadgwyck is beginning to spread beyond the borders of Cornwall. If her legend continues to flourish, it’s going to grow ever more difficult for them to find a buyer or overseer for the property. With any luck, they’ll leave us to our own devices just long enough for us to find what we’ve been looking for.”
    “What if they should decide to close down the house altogether? Before we can find the treasure?”
    “I don’t believe they’ll do that as long as they have a household of loyal servants willing to remain in this cursed place. After all, we’re the only ones standing between the manor and utter ruin.” Anne wagged her eyebrows at Pippa. “At least that’s what we’re allowing them to believe.”
    Pippa set aside the bucket. “Just what manner of mischief are you proposing this time?”
    “Nothing too extreme. I suspect all his lordship really needs is a little nudge toward the door.”
    “A nudge or a shove?”
    Anne lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Whatever will serve us best.”
    “Promise me you’ll take care, won’t you?” Pippa urged, her dark eyes absent their usual teasing spark. “I fear he might be more dangerous than the others.”
    Anne wanted to dismiss the warning. But she knew far more about the dangers a man such as Dravenwood could present to a woman than Pippa did. Dangers lurking behind longing looks and stolen caresses and pretty promises never intended to be kept.
    Mustering up a reassuring smile, she marched past Pippa and to the fireplace. Kneeling on the hearth, she reached up into the chimney and fumbled blindly about until she located the grimy iron key that controlled the flue.
    She gave it a sharp twist, then rose, briskly dusting ash from her hands. “Try not to fret so much, my dear. Lord Dravenwood might be a threat to me, but I can assure you Angelica is more than his match.”
    “M RS. S PENCER!”
    To Anne’s credit, she didn’t even flinch when that thunderous shout came echoing through the hallsof Cadgwyck Manor later that night. The convivial conversation she and her staff had been enjoying around the long pine table in the kitchen ceased abruptly. Lisbeth seized Betsy’s hand in a white-knuckled grip while the other maids exchanged wide-eyed glances of alarm over their steaming bowls of bisque prepared with lobsters Dickon had trapped for them just that morning.
    Hodges lurched halfway to his feet, snatching up the wicked-looking knife they’d used to cut the bread. Dickon clapped a hand on the old man’s shoulder, easing Hodges back into his chair before gently removing the knife from his clenched fist and sliding it out of harm’s reach. Pippa buried her pert nose even deeper in the dog-eared copy of The Castle of Otranto she had filched from the manor’s library.
    In an ominous silence broken only by the cheery click of Nana’s knitting needles and Piddles’s snoring, Anne took one more sip of the succulent soup before laying down her spoon. She dabbed delicately at her lips with her napkin,