That was Kendall’s first thought.
“It won’t open.” Lady Isolde’s words were breathless in the shadowy interior.
He hated the intimacy of her voice. How the sound conjured the velvety darkness of a bedchamber.
“Allow me.” He batted her hand aside. Surely the door was merely stuck, and Lady Isolde hadn’t the strength to open it.
The handle turned in his grasp, but the door remained firmly shut, refusing to give.
No! The door cannot be locked.
What the devil sort of place was this?
They could not be trapped in here alone. It was bad enough to be seen speaking with each other.
But if they were found together like this . . .
Kendall couldn’t even finish that thought. Such a catastrophe would upend every goal he had spent the last decade working toward.
Frowning, he crouched down to examine the lock.
Damn and blast!
“It’s a self-locking Chubb mechanism,” he growled, standing once more.
He could feel Lady Isolde behind him, radiating tension.
“What precisely does that mean, Your Grace?” she asked.
“Ah, have I found a topic that the all-wise Lady Isolde does not already know?”
“Please don’t be an ass and render this situation more difficult than it needs be.”
Just standing alone in a dark place with this woman was already more difficult than it needed to be. The scent of her filled his nostrils, and the faint rustling of her skirt sent lightning skittering across his skin.
“It means, my lady,” he bit out, “that the door can only be opened with a special key designed for this particular lock.”
A long moment of silence met his pronouncement.
“No!” she breathed in horror.
On this one thing, they were in agreement.
“No, no, no!” she whispered again, frantic terror in her voice.
She tugged on his elbow, the pressure of her fingers scalding.
“Mind your hand, woman!” Kendall flinched, shaking her touch free.
It was bad enough to be enclosed together in this oppressively small space. But to withstand the feel of her as well?
Impossible. A man could only endure so much before breaking entirely. And Kendall greatly feared what would tumble free if the reins of his control slipped where Lady Isolde Langston was concerned.
“I want to see this lock for myself!”
“Be my guest.” He stepped back and mockingly motioned for her to look her fill.
Lady Isolde bent to study the lock. Light filtered in through the door jamb, rimming her bonnet, the slope of her pert nose, and the bell of her bulky skirts.
