A Light For My Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

Now, come on. I’ll show you
your room.” She turned on her heel and marched back down the hall,
not bothering to see if he followed.
    She finally heard his tread behind her as she
led him through the butler's pantry to the back stairs. She was
very aware of him then, as though he generated heat and light, and
she strove to stay far ahead of him as they climbed the circular
staircase. She stopped a moment at the linen closet on the second
floor to collect bedding and towels. Then, never once looking at
Jake, she continued to the third story, where the attic and two
servants' rooms were located. Thin gray daylight from the small
windows revealed a couple of battered chairs, picture frames, a
birdcage, toys, and assorted boxes and trunks. She continued down a
narrow passageway, finally stopping at a pair of doors.
    She pushed open the door to one of the little
bedrooms and let Jake go in first. It was a wood-walled enclosure,
as plain as a monk's cell, painted white and sparsely furnished
with a bed, a washstand, a spindle-back chair, and a four-drawer
chest, all made of pine. An oil lamp was set on the chest. The
window had no curtain and not even a rag rug decorated the painted
floor. Being directly under the eaves, the ceiling angled down
sharply. The room had the smell of an old closet, long ignored.
    “This is what I have,” China said, waiting
for him to object. They stopped just inside the door, and she could
see this was the only place in the small room where he'd be able to
stand completely upright. "The other room is just like this, but it
doesn't have a window."
    He dropped his sea bag on the floor and
looked around the stark quarters, then at her. "China, does the
captain know you've had to turn this place into a
boardinghouse?"
    "I'm surprised Aunt Gert didn't tell you,"
she said coldly, struggling against rising humiliation. "Three
months after you left, I learned my father was washed overboard in
the North Atlantic. He'd made several bad investments and he died
without a dime." She gained a measure of satisfaction from his
stunned expression, and deliberately paused a beat before adding,
"We've done our best to get by, but of course, it would have helped
if my brother was here."
    He hunched his shoulders, jamming his hands
into his pockets as he glanced at the dark floor. With that single
mannerism, one that he'd had since childhood and one which had
always annoyed China, she felt propelled back in time.
    He looked up at her again. "I'm sorry to hear
about it." He started to reach for her elbow. "Can I help
with—"
    To cut off his question, and before he could
touch her, she pulled away. She didn't want his hand on her arm,
and she certainly didn't want his hypocritical sympathy. Taking a
step back, she recited the rules of the house. "Meals are at eight,
one, and six. If you're not on time for them, we won't wait and
you'll go without. You get clean bed linen and towels once a week."
She dumped the sheets and blankets into his arms. "You're
responsible for making your own bed, and you can use the bathroom
on the second floor. We have two other guests in the house—you'll
meet them at dinner."
    "Are you sure you want me in the house? Maybe
you'd rather give me a stall in the carriage house," he fired back,
his expression stony.
    The carriage house. China froze, a
flutter of caution rippling through her. "Do you want this room or
not? It doesn't make any difference to me. I can rent it to
anyone."
    After an uncomfortable moment he grumbled,
"Yeah, I'll take it."
    China quietly released the breath she held.
"Then you'll follow the rules. Here's a key to the back door, but
at ten thirty I latch the night locks. If you're out past that
time, you'll sleep somewhere else. All right?"
    "I suppose I can remember all that," he
snapped. He took the key she held out to him while trying to keep
his grip on the bedding.
    "Fine, then." She turned to leave, then
stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Keeping her back to him,