She did not wait. She strode directly to the spot he had just vacated beside the bed. And began peeling off her left glove. Slowly, slowly, the delicate leather rolled down her arm and off her fingers, revealing pale skin covered in gooseflesh.
“Wait,” he said again.
The sight unsettled him, although he was unsure why. He glimpsed her bare fingers every time they gathered to eat, so his unease did not stem from the soft whiteness of her hands.
Perhaps his pulse skittered in fits and starts because of the still-visible gooseflesh rising on her skin and the trembling of her slender fingers, or because of the pained resignation lining her eyes as though she faced something even worse than the sightless eyes of a dead man.
“What’s wrong?” she said now, her palms paused a few inches above the earl’s gaping mouth. “Besides coming here to touch a dead man.”
“I—”Hell.Gavin stared at the back of Miss Pemberton’s head for a long moment, unable to move toward her and unable to retake his seat. Her hands shook. “I forgot to summon the maids,” he said at last, remembering why he had spoken. “I promised an army of servants, not none. Just allow me a moment to tug the bellpull, and we’ll have—”
“I prefer to be alone.”
Her words cut through the stillness, cut through his speech, cut through the thick air, cold and heavy with the scent of death.
“You…wish for me to leave?”
She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze for the first time since reaching the guest quarters. “No,” she said softly. “Stay.”
“All right.”
He stayed, but did not sit. For some reason, his muscles warned him to remain tense, alert, at the ready in case some unknown danger lurked nearby.
Miss Pemberton nodded slowly. Her eyes were large, dry, weary. She turned back toward the man on the bed and squared her shoulders. “I doubt anything will happen, but if it does…if it does, you are the only one who can bring me back without making it worse.”
Gavin frowned. He also doubted anything would happen, but…as before, something was off. Something in her tone, her manner, her words. She did not sound like a disciple about to commune with God. She sounded…nervous. Frightened.
But if not of being alone with him, the supposed murderer, then what?
“Back from where?” he asked, recalling her odd choice in words. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Here. I’ll be right here.”
Her answer was logical, but a strange tremor distorted the words. Gavin had the distinct impression she was lying, but that made no sense. Perhaps she, too, believed in a fickle, vengeful God. Perhaps she feared Hewouldspeak to her. Or that He would smite her for daring to summon him like a common beast, leaving her as cold and dead as the corpse before her.
Gavin was gripped by the sudden urge to stop Miss Pemberton from touching the earl’s dead flesh. To protect her. To tackle her to the floor if need be, anything,anything, to keep her from laying her trembling fingers atop Heatherbrook’s flaccid gray skin.
But the thought came too late.
Her palms flattened against the earl’s pale cheeks. A quick inhalation whistled through her teeth. And then she froze.
For several long moments, Gavin watched her, unnerved by how still she held herself, how statue-like she posed. Her body was as lifeless and beautiful as an ivory sarcophagus molded in her image.
She stood so quiet and unmoving he might well have been in a room with two dead bodies. The unwelcome sensation of watching a pair of corpses had his muscles twitching in trepidation.
Gavin shifted his weight, uncomfortable in his own skin, even less comfortable with the motionless woman a few feet before him. Her fingers no longer shook, so frozen did she stand. He could not hear her breathing, even in the unnatural silence of the dank chamber. Her breasts no longer rose and fell. Even the folds of her gown held no ripples, no motion, as if they too were carved of stone and impervious to both breeze and life.
Feeling more nervous than foolish, he edged closer until her profile was a mere foot from his face. If she breathed, she did so silently. He heard nothing, smelled nothing, felt nothing.Hisbreathing was erratic and overloud. She did not seem to notice. Her eyes were glassy and sightless. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink.
Gavin passed a hand before her face. She gazed right through it. At nothing. He tilted closer, until the scent of her soap clashed with the stench from the bed. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. He leaned in until the tip of his nose brushed the icy skin of her forehead. She jerked.
He jumped.
“Hhh. Hhh. Hhh.” Loud, frantic gasps choked from her throat. She sucked air into her lungs with shallow, wheezing breaths.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, then back open. The irises rolled back into her head. Palms still flush against Heatherbrook’s pallid face, her arms trembled once before her entire body erupted into violent shaking.
Whether or not she wanted him interrupting, Gavin had seen enough.
