Waiting For You Page 3

  "Good evening, Arysa."

  With some effort, she forced the words from her lips. "Good evening, Mr. Bayne."

  Zebual noticed the color rising in her cheeks and decided not to comment on her appearance. "Mrs. Reed has set dinner up in my room for us." He moved aside and waited for her to pass him. The energy from her seemed to radiate and fill the room, just as it seemed to mock him and his weakening being. What he wouldn't give to be able to inhale some of her strength for his own use, but it was a useless wish.

  A small table was set up in front of the hearth and a small cart was filled with several silver platters of food. It was beyond Arysa's understanding as to why Mrs. Reed fixed so much food, but who was she to questions the older woman's duties? It was Mr. Bayne's money that was paying for the waste and if he didn't care then why should she?

  Zebual put just a few items on his plate. He was finding it almost impossible to keep his eyes from her. Never had there been a more beautiful and desirable woman than Arysa ... not to him. Before her, he had seen and tasted many women, but none had captured his heart and soul so completely as did she. From the first he had been lost and now he was even more so.

  Arysa slowly sampled the food as she watched her companion. She noticed how he pushed his food about from one side to the other. Finally he took a bite and then pushed the plate away. No wonder he was so thin, he didn't eat enough to keep a bird alive.

  "You'll have to eat more than that if you want to get well."

  Zebual raised his eyes briefly and then lowered them. "My stomach cannot handle more than that."

  "What is it that ails you?"

  "Several things," Zebual replied with a shrug. "And only one."

  Arysa pushed her own plate back and leaned her elbows on the table. "I know my mind is not the best, but that didn't make the slightest bit of sense even to me."

  "I apologize," Zebual murmured, as he stood. He swayed slightly and then righted himself. "I wish I could explain further."

  She held her seat and her silence as he crossed the room and poured himself a small glass of amber liquid. "What's stopping you from explaining? I'm here and so are you."

  Zebual took a small sip of the brandy hoping it would soothe the upset of his stomach. "I have decided to leave the subject of you being my wife alone."

  Arysa leaned back in her chair. "How nice of you."

  "Don't get waspish on me, Arysa." Zebual turned to face her and then wished he hadn't. The expression on her face was one of suspicion. "From here on out you will be my caregiver."

  "Your caregiver?"

  "Or would you rather leave Syra?"

  "You would toss me out?" she asked as her back stiffened.

  "No. I would not toss you out," he sighed with a great deal of irritation as he turned his back to her again. "I thought that perhaps you might be interested in a position here, but if not I understand."

  Arysa mulled over his words carefully. He wasn't going to make her leave. That thought brought a great deal of relief to her. He was giving her the opportunity of either accepting or declining his offer. "And what exactly would I have to do?"

  "My sickness grows worse at times. When those times come, I would need you to take care of me. On the days that are good, you are to be my companion, talk with me, play a game of chess or just to be here in the same room as me."

  "That's it?"

  "No." Zebual refilled his glass. "You are to clean and take care of the third floor."

  The third floor ... the floor that was off limits to all. To say that she was surprised wasn't the right word for what she was feeling.

  "The third floor is my own bit of family history. The rooms have only had minor repairs. They are as they once were. Just think of it as my own personal family museum. You will clean them and then once a week you're to go up and give them a once over to make sure all is dust free and maintained."

  "I will accept the position," Arysa said, as she watched him. He was keeping his back to her so that she couldn't see his face. How often had he done this same thing in the past month? "When will I start these duties?"

  "You already have," Zebual answered. "From now on we will dine in my room. I find it too much of a task to climb the stairway for each meal. Perhaps in time, if I grow stronger, we can resume taking our meals in the dining hall."

  "What exactly is wrong with you, Mr. Bayne?" Arysa asked yet again. She thought it was a reasonable question, but from the way his back stiffened, she gathered he didn't.

  "I am not contagious, if that's what has you worried."

  "I didn't say that you were, sir. I was merely curious as to what ails you."

  Zebual turned to look at her and to have her look upon him. "That should be easy to see, Arysa. I'm dying."

  The emptiness of his tone reached out and stung her, making her realize just how much her question, though reasonable to her, had hurt him in some way. "Dying from what?" she asked and then held her breath.

  "My body is missing a very important substance."

  "And what is that substance?"

  Zebual waved her question away with a shaky hand. "It matters not. Given proper care I could recover and that's what I need from you at this time ... proper care. Are you up to the task, Arysa?"

  There was something in that statement that tugged at her senses, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. She studied the slumped shoulders of the man standing across the room and knew that she couldn't deny his request. He had, from the moment she had awakened in this strange world, been kind to her. Though there was an underlining anger that seemed to roll through him, he had never directed that anger at her. Instead he showed her patience and calm and now was offering to let her stay in his home though she declined to believe his tale about her being his wife.

  "What about Justin? Wouldn't I be taking his job?"

  "Justin has enough duties to see him through. Besides, he was not my caregiver. I have always been my own."

  Arysa nodded. "I'm up for it," she answered, coming to her feet. "And if my duties began this evening then you'll understand my need to see to you now." Crossing the room to stand at his side, she removed the glass from his hand. "Instead of standing here swaying back and forth you should be sitting down. I can tell by looking at you that you don't have much strength. Come and I'll help you over to the settee."

  Zebual looked at her offered hand. Part of him, the arrogant part, wanted to refuse her offer of help, showing her that he wasn't all that weak. But he held his silence and arrogance and placed his hand in hers. Once she had him settled on the couch she brought his glass to him and then began cleaning up the dishes from the table.

  "Just roll the cart out into the hallway," he murmured, as his eyes followed her. "Justin will take it down to Mrs. Reed."

  Arysa did as he instructed. She was at a loss as to what to do next. This was not going to be an easy job, she thought. "Would you like to play a game of chess, Mr. Bayne?"

  Zebual leaned his head back and closed his eyes, not wanting her to know that he had been watching her. "What I want is for you to stop calling me, Mr. Bayne. My name is Zebual and I expect you to use it."

  "All right, would you like to play a game of chess, Zebual?"

  "No." Zebual sighed. At least he had gotten her to use his name, he thought with an inward smile. He was still elated that she had taken his offer, but then he had known she would after her show of concern the night before. Without her knowing it, she had sealed her own fate by following him to his room last night.

  "Then what would you like to do?"

  "Let's talk. Shall we begin with the reason you were going through the books in my library today?"

  Arysa scowled at his bored tone of voice. "Has Justin or Mrs. Reed been tattling?" she countered.

  The corners of Zebual's mouth twitched. "Do something about this light, Arysa. It's too bright for my eyes. And to answer your question, nobody tattled."

  Arysa turned the light down low and moved over to the chai
r on his right. "Then how did you know?"

  "You didn't put some of the books back in their proper place."

  "You know exactly where each book goes?"

  He lifted his head slightly to look at her. "I know everything about this house."

  "Then can you tell me where the journal that supposedly belonged to my grandmother is?"

  For several seconds he stared at her, the silence chilling and deafening. "Who told you of the journal? Or did you by chance remember it?"

  Arysa shook her head, as she wrapped her arms around herself. "It's rather cold in here, don't you think?" she asked, looking over to where the fire in the hearth burned low and bright.

  "Did you remember?" he asked again.

  "No. Mrs. Reed told me about it."

  "And how would you know for certain whether it is your grandmother's journal and not someone else's?"

  "I would know," she murmured, softly. At least she hoped she would.

  "What is the importance of this book to you?"

  "I thought ... had hoped, that it would give me some insight as to who I am."

  Zebual studied her face. Such a delicate yet strong face with its bold features. "If you were to have this book would you read it to me?"

  Arysa swallowed and nodded her head. "Yes," she whispered.

  "No hesitation?" Zebual raised a dark brow and waited for her response.

  "If you are, as you say, my husband, then it's likely I have already shared the contents of the book with you."

  "Very good, Arysa."

  Her temper simmered at his condescending tone. "You can save your patronizing for another time. You asked a question and I in return answered you. It's no wonder I disbelieve your claim about a marriage between us. Surely, I wasn't some kind of nitwit that I would have picked a man so arrogant and devilish as you."

  Zebual gave a deep grunt and lowered his head to the settee again. "My arrogance and devilish character are only matched by your own."

  Arysa laughed. "Me? Arrogant and devilish? I've not seen any of these traits in myself ... only in you. I think I've been most pleasant and good-natured since awaking in yonder bed. Just think, I could have acted most reprehensibly."

  It seemed that his body absorbed the sound of her laughter with every pore. How long had it been since he had heard such a sweet sound? Too long, came the echoing reply of his soul. The hunger in him stirred to life. He pulled in on its reins hoping to control himself and it.

  "Once you get to know yourself again, you will realize how you just slandered your true character. I will tell you this, you are and have always been the most complex being I have ever met. Shy and yet forthright, protective and yet merciless, doubtful and yet arrogant, sweet-natured and yet ruthless, loving and yet vengeful."

  Arysa sat forward and glared at his profile. "A claim accompanied by a counterclaim, how brilliant."

  "Ahhh, and least I forget, soft spoken and yet sarcastic to the very core."

  "Do not mock me, sir."

  "And do not call me, sir." Zebual grounded out. "That's worse than having you call me, Mr. Bayne. For your information I wasn't mocking you, my dear ... to do so would be mocking myself. I did, after all, fall in love with you and make you my wife."

  For a moment Arysa stared at him in shock. Falling in love with her? She hadn't even thought of that possibility. Why? Because she was in truth not as intelligent as she thought. Why else would he marry? Noting his interest in her silence, she lifted her chin. "So you say. You have yet to show me any evidence that proclaims me Mrs. Zebual Bayne."

  Well hell, though he wished he could, he couldn't tell her the truth. The only thing he could hope for was that in time she would remember everything and with her memory would come all the joy and pain that was inevitable. Though he wished he could spare them both, it was beyond his powers to do so.

  "We were speaking of the book," Arysa sighed and sat back. "I don't know why you try to rile me with your words and tone, it makes no sense to me.

  "It makes no sense to me either, but we've always enjoyed a good verbal disagreement." Zebual slowly came to his feet. "I've had enough chatting for tonight. I'll make a deal with you, Arysa. If you show me a more tender side of yourself for one week, I'll give you the journal."

  She bit her lip to hold back her bitter words. How dare he use the book against her to get her to do his bidding?

  "Stop thinking such dreadful thought, my dear. It's not like I'm asking you to sacrifice your life for mine. All I asked for is one week in which you show me a more tender side ... nothing more and nothing less. Do we have a deal?"

  "Deal." Arysa came to her feet and moved to his side. "I'll help you to your room."

  "I suggest not ... not this evening." Zebual moved away from her and on shaky legs entered his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  Arysa stared at the closed portal. With a heavy sigh, she turned on heel and made her way to her room, closing the connecting door. She couldn't help but feel for him. He said that he was dying and that alone must be a terrible burden to live with. Obviously there was nothing he could do to stop the process or surely he would have done so by now.

  As she removed her clothing, she glanced at the door between them and then sighed again. Going to the tall chest of drawers, she searched and found several satiny nightgowns. Disgustedly, she pulled on a pale yellow one. For now she would forgo sleeping naked. After waking to find him in her room last night, she realized just how unwise it was to sleep naked with a man in such close proximity. Muttering beneath her breath, she turned off the lamp and climbed into bed. Chapter Three

  "Let yourself fly," came the deep whispering voice. "Feel the soft touch of the wind beneath you, carrying you up, higher and higher."

  She trembled at the warm breath against her ear. The deep reverberations of his voice made her insides quiver. A soft gasp sighed from between her parted lips as his hands moved over her body. Still he would not let her touch him. Her rising passion was laced with a good deal of frustration at his soft command to keep her hands away. He wanted her to lie there, her hands clutching at the sheets, while he played his magic on her.

  "Please," she whimpered, when his mouth caressed the undersides of her breast.

  "Patience," he murmured with a soft laugh.

  What did he want from her? She was only flesh and blood ... and at the moment something much more. She couldn't define the feelings that withered and churned within her. She wanted to touch and caress him as he was doing to her. It was a want that bordered on insanity.

  "Are you ready to take off? To feel the sky, the sunlight, the moon and the zephyr lift you, absorb you, inhale you and then come within you?"

  "Yes," she moaned. "Yes."

  Then she felt him ... Her head tossed back and forth as his very presence filled and caressed her.

  Her body rose to melt with the sky. Sunlight shot through her and cried from every pore of her flesh. Moonlight embraced her, welcoming her into its darkness, as the zephyr lifted her higher and higher. Then her world shattered into a billion bright stars that gently glided her down toward earth.

  Arysa shook the dream from her head as she finished taking care of her personal needs. Today she would clean the mysterious third floor. She had awakened to find a slip of paper on her dresser and an old key lying on top of it. Zebual had entered her room again as she slept, leaving the note. It was unsettling to know that he could enter her room at anytime and yet there was nothing she could do about it ... not if she wanted the journal.

  Searching through the closet, she found an older dress hanging in the back that would be perfect for cleaning. After brushing and braiding her hair, she left her room.

  Arysa entered the kitchen and murmured a soft, "good day" to Mrs. Reed as she picked up a warm morning roll. "I'm going up to the third floor. Mr. Bayne wants me to give it a thorough cleaning."

  Mrs. Reed turned, watching as Arysa smoothed some of the honey-butter on the roll she held. "He told you that?" sh
e asked softly. When Arysa's gaze met hers, Mrs. Reed lowered her eyes and wiped her hands on the apron tied at her waist.

  "Yes. He left me the key. Is there something wrong?"

  "No. You just surprised me. Mr. Bayne is rather particular when it comes to the third floor. He's taken every precaution to make sure that no one enters. He even went as far as to put bars on the windows. It's been some time since any of those rooms have been cleaned. It will likely take you more than one day to clean it." Mrs. Reed murmured thoughtfully. "You best go up and look around first. It's my guess it will take several buckets of water to do the kind of cleaning Zebual will want done. I'll have Reese and Edmond gather up the supplies and water for you."

  "Thank you. I would appreciate that."

  "Just toss down the tapestries, rugs, bed coverings and drapes and I'll see to the cleaning of them. Most are so old that if not cleaned properly and with special care they could fall apart. I'll also mix you up a container of my special herbs that can be sprinkled on the floors before placing the rugs back down. And I'll add some to the cleaning water. That should give it a nice clean smell after being closed up for so long."

  "Again, I thank you." Arysa smiled.

  "Don't be thanking me until you go up and take a look around," the older woman teased.

  "I promise not to faint upon seeing it."

  "See that you don't," Mrs. Reed laughed. "You'll need to take you up a lantern or two so that you can light your way. There's probably so much grime on the windows that you won't be able to see anything."

  Arysa made her way up to the third floor. The key felt heavy in her hand as she stared at the old scarred door that kept everyone from entering this area. The loud tumbling of the lock made her jump slightly. The door was heavy and it took her a moment to push it open. Darkness greeted her. Holding up the lantern she stepped into the forbidden area.

  Dust covered rugs lined the long hallway. The walls were colored with age and needed a good scrubbing. Cobwebs hung from the old wooden candleholders that protruded and lined the hallway. Her work was definitely cut out for her, she thought with a sigh. It would most likely take her several days to clean everything. Even the ceilings needed washing.