It looked like… Well, it looked a lot like the storage structure she’d just been locked inside, honestly. This room was twice the size of the largest parlor at home, and filled floor-to-ceiling with shelves and boxes and contraptions.
Her quarry, unfortunately, was nowhere in sight.
She sheathed her sword and carefully picked her way forward, testing each slat of the parquet before placing her full weight on it. A good thing, too, since one of the panels had a slight give to it, indicating it was either a trapdoor to a hidden dungeon, or a lever that would have filled the air with nettles and stinging wasps. Her darling anarchist was nothing if not consistent.
A few more steps, and—Ha! A trip wire! The thin strip of string a mere inch from the floor would have been invisible to anyone not specifically searching for just such devious methods. She stepped over it gingerly, taking even more care with her balance, lest the vibrations of her footfalls cause gears to turn and pulleys to raise, unleashing a trough of boiling oil on her head.
By her count, she dodged no fewer than fifteen more near disasters before reaching the door on the other side of the workroom. Thehandle was unlocked. Unlocked! Then again, perhaps she was being lured into another murder room.
She cast a suspicious eye at every surface as she crept through the silent house. It was surprisingly pretty. For a man repulsed by the notion of entertaining guests, Stephen had surrounded himself with plenty of beauty. There was a guest room that appeared untouched, and a study that seemed likewise unused. She imagined Stephen spent most of his time in his workroom, when he wasn’t… wherever he was at this moment. Was he even on the premises? Had she broken in too early?
But, no—the next door was ajar, and low voices spilled out from the interior. Elizabeth caught her breath and flattened against one wall of the corridor.
Only when she was convinced that whoever was on the other side had not heard her approach, did she peek through the crack between the hinges. A man and a woman were seated at a small table, engaged in a game of cards. Casino, if Elizabeth had to guess. She’d also guess that these were Stephen’s servants. He’d mentioned only having a single maid and a single manservant. Elizabeth would have to give them lessons in defending against Trojan horses, too.
She eased past the door and continued on down the hallway.
Contingency plan five, she mouthed to herself. That was the one where she shook a trail of rose petals to his bedchamber, and arranged herself naked atop the—
There he was! Beside the bed. Fully clothed, alas. On his side, facing away from her, engaged in a dizzying series of press-ups on the floor.
She didn’t move a muscle.
He sensed her anyway, his head jerking up from the floor. His eyes widened at the sight of her. “Elizabeth? But how—?”
“What did Itellyou about Trojan horses?” she scolded him before she remembered that wasn’t how she’d intended to start off at all. “Wait. Forget about the Trojan horse for the moment.”
He sprang to his feet. “I definitely want to know about the Trojan horse. You’re covered in sawdust. Did you come in an actual wooden horse? How did my servants not see that?”
“An important discussion we can have with them at another time. But I didn’t pay this call to upbraid anyone. I came to beg forgiveness.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her. “Forgiveness for what?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and leaned her hip against the wall for physical and emotional support. She was going to have to talk about herfeelings.
She should have brought Jacob as an interpreter. He was the poet of the family, not Elizabeth.
She gripped the handle of her sword one last time, then tossed it aside. It clattered noisily to the floor.
Stephen raised his brows.
Elizabeth tried to smile bravely. It probably came out like a grimace. She removed the daggers from her bodice and threw those to the ground as well.
Her dress, she’d chosen for a reason: She could remove it without assistance. Elizabeth untied the ribbon beneath her bodice. The back of her gown loosened enough to slip the cording free, which tugged the sleeves down over her shoulders.
Stephen sat up straight. “What are you doing?”
“Removing my armor.”
The dress fell to the floor. Elizabeth lifted her chain mail up and over her head, then added it to the growing pile at her feet. She was now wearing nothing more than silk stockings and a cotton shift. Her fingers itched for the comfort of her sword. She left it where it lay.Then remembered a hidden knife tucked into her garter, and added that to the pile as well.
“I stand before you, defenseless.” Elizabeth straightened and clutched her hands together. “I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I’ve neverbeenmore vulnerable. But it’s not the lack of armor and weaponry that makes me this way. It’s how I feel about you.”
He started to rise from the bed. She held up a palm to stop him. If she didn’t get through this now, she never would. And he deserved all the words in her heart.
“I’m sorry I walked away. I wanted to stay with you forever from the very beginning. I never frighten, but my feelings for you terrify me. So I chose safety. The familiarity of the known instead of the adventure of a lifetime.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you away.”
