won’t speak to her of it again or tease her about it.”
He blinked. “Eloise, my dear, I can’t think why any of that should concern you.”
“It concerns me because I like her very much, and she’s not happy that you have her journal. And, really,” she said, drawing her slim form up stiffly in a way that made him want to smile, “I find it most uncomfortable that my brother has in his possession something private that belongs to a lady which he is not returning.”
He cocked his head. “Did she put you up to this? I wouldn’t have thought—”
“No! She wouldn’t be happy that I mentioned it to you. But she doesn’t know you like I do.” Her face softened and she reached for his hand. “I know you are good.”
No, I’m not . His sweet, indulgent sister would never acknowledge that in the copybook of life, his pages were well blotted. “El, you needn’t worry about Lily. This is a trifling matter.”
She frowned. “I’m not so sure. Why don’t you give it to me, and I’ll return it for you so there won’t be any awkwardness?”
And what would be the fun in that?
“I’ll think about it,” he said, intending nothing of the sort. “Good night.”
He kissed her cheek and went into his room before she could come up with any more thoughts to share. His sister had been six when both their parents died of illness, though since they’d been like distant planets to their children, he’d always supposed it hadn’t been so much of a loss for her. She’d grown up in the care of an indulgent governess who’d allowed her to do as she liked, but as Eloise was such a good-hearted young lady, it rarely mattered if she was also rather convinced of her own way of doing things.
He put the candle down on his desk and frowned. He was certain he’d left the journal there, and he’d felt easy about doing so because he’d locked the door to his room. With a staff and visitors, privacy was not assured, and now that the journal had come to light, he hadn’t wanted anyone poking around in his room.
He opened the desk drawer but wasn’t surprised not to find it there as he had left it on the desk. An astonishing suspicion was taking shape in his mind, and as he looked around the room, he noticed that the window was open wider than he’d left it. Taking his candle, he examined the area. A smudgy footprint now decorated the sill.
With a dark grunt, he realized that half a mile away, a blond woman was surely gloating. The minx had climbed the tree outside his window!
Extremely daring. And very, very intriguing. He wondered if she’d made the practical decision to wear pants while climbing, and entertained an image of her, fair chin set in determination as she worked carefully upward through the branches, her legs encased in fabric.
As the spotty moonlight shifted across his fields and lifted the shadows beyond that blanketed Thistlethwaite, he considered that her trip to his room tonight and the non-appearance of the Woods Fiend might be related. It was obvious that she was determined to thwart Hal’s efforts to catch him, and she’d likely warned the man not to come tonight.
Between her interference with his efforts to catch the Woods Fiend the night before and her trip to his room tonight, the gauntlet had been well and truly thrown down. She’d engaged him in battle, and there was no way he was going to let her win, no matter the game afoot.
He had advantages over her. For one thing, she’d obviously had a serious passion for him once—and he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling the crackle of attraction between them when they were together.
Oh, who was he kidding? He was a little smitten with her. There was something astringent and pure and unembellished about her that fascinated him, like the notes of a single violin cutting through the babble of conversation at a party.
Well. Once he’d made certain she felt that old magic for him and he’d gotten her to admit it, he’d have the upper