He seemed to have cat’s eyes, seeing in the dark with no trouble where she would have stumbled and fallen. To her surprise, he didn’t take her to the front door, but instead headed toward the side door and the tangled garden, guiding her through it with barely disguised impatience.
And then they were out in the chilly night air. A wind had blown up, tossing her loose hair about her, and the bright moonlight had disappeared behind a bank of clouds, plunging the street into darkness. Still, he led her on, sure-footed and silent, and she could feel the disapproval coming off him in waves.
Guilt assailed her. “I’m sorry,” she offered in a small voice, but he said nothing, moving determinedly forward.
“Do you really think the man with the teeth will come to our house?” she tried again.
“His name is Stiles, and yes, I think so. You’re just damned lucky I decided to check the house before I went home.”
“Home? What do you mean? Isn’t Corinth Place your home?”
“Not by a mile. Now keep your head down and keep quiet. We don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.”
“You’re mad at me,” she said, ignoring his warning.
He stopped, so quickly she barreled into him, but he caught her before she could fall against his big, warm, safe body. “If you were anyone else, I would have left you in the deserted house. Now stop talking and keep up.”
She stopped talking.
They were in a better part of town. The street was well-lit, the buildings looked more prosperous, and there were carriages and well-dressed couples all around. He paid no attention to any of it, and she could do nothing more than try to keep up with him, his hand strong on her arm. She barely had time to observe the building they stopped at—it was tall, white granite, and fairly new if she had to guess. He dragged her to the front door, pulled it open, and ushered her inside.
They were greeted by a long, sweeping staircase and several closed doors, and he went to the first one, using another key, and opened it onto darked rooms. Yanking her inside, he closed the door behind them, locking it, sealing them in.
“Where are we?” she whispered as he moved her into through the foyer.
“What does it look like? Rooms for let.” A light flared, and he lit a candle, one small argument against the darkness.
She looked around her. It was in better shape than the house on Corinth Place, with good furniture, paintings, and expensive curtains that blotted out the moonlight. “Whose rooms are they?”
“None of your business.” He moved through the room, lighting candles. There was a fire banked in the hearth, and the room was pleasantly warm.
“Won’t we get caught being here?” she persisted.
“No.” He reached behind her and pulled his heavy coat off her shoulders, then stared at the woolen dress she was wearing. “Why are you wearing that rag—I thought I burned all your old dresses?”
“This was the warmest I had. I couldn’t start the fire and I was freezing.” She was suddenly aware that her hair was loose down her back, and she put a quick hand to it.
“Listen to me very carefully. I have to go out. You’re to stay here and go to bed.”
“No!” she protested, suddenly panicked. “I don’t want to be here all alone; what if the owner comes back?”
“He won’t. There’s a bedroom beyond the dining room—go there and get some sleep. I’ll be back by morning.” His voice was implacable.
“But...”
“No arguments. I’m angry enough to beat you right now, and it won’t take much more to put me over the edge.”
She was silenced only for a moment. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said confidently.
“Just don’t push me. If you aren’t here when I get back...”
“I will be,” she said. “I promise.” The very thought of going out alone into the night air was terrifying. She hesitated. She wasn’t used to him being angry with her. “Do you have to go out?”
“If you don’t want your house destroyed, I do,” he snapped. “Why in the world didn’t they take you with them?”
“I told them I was sick,” she confessed.
“For God’s sake, why?”
