“You could do that from our bedroom.”
I jerk in his clutches and say, “It becomes boring. What areyoudoing sneaking up on me?”
“Something told me there was a naughty little ballerina wandering the halls.”
Despite my tantrum-like fit, twisting and turning in his hold, the sound of his voice undoes me. Excitement thrums throughme and makes me think of how much I’ve missed my husband. He’s only looking out for me.
It’s true I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into wandering after Ms. Poitier.
I go still in his arms ’til he turns me around himself.
What was an abrupt struggle in the dark becomes a tender, relieved reunion. Caelian whisks me off my feet for a kiss on the lips. My arms hang loosely around his neck, reveling in how nice his warm lips feel against mine.
A sense of desperation coils inside me in reminder how quickly he can disappear from my life, then reappear.
It leaves me even more upset by his recent absence.
“I was worried about you,” I say. “You were so angry when you left. You’ve been gone all night.”
“What have I told you, Nevi? I’ll always come back to you.”
He strokes my hair and clenches me tight for so long I’m convinced we’re about to abandon our covert mission altogether and head upstairs. Setting me back down on my feet, he inclines his head toward the glass doors.
“Did she head out there?”
Reluctantly, I nod. “But, Cael, we still don’t know what could be?—”
“She’ll talk. No more waiting.”
Before I can really stop him, Caelian’s wrenching the doors open and striding across the terrace. When I made the decision to come downstairs and see for myself if Ms. Poitier was sneaking out at night, this wasn’t what I had in mind.
I follow Caelian anyway.
It happens in mere minutes. Tracking Ms. Poitier down proves to be easy. We come across her just as she’s emerging from the thicket of trees. Even in the dark I can spot the surprise bloom across her face. She backs away like she’s been burned by a hot flame.
Caelian lets her go nowhere—in a flurry of movement, she’s seized by the arm and escorted all the way back toward the large manor. I scramble to keep up. Caelian offers no words, no explanation, though Ms. Poitier sputters out her own version.
“I was out for a late-night walk… I couldn’t sleep… I was only getting some fresh air. Mr. C, slow down or you’ll wrench my arm out its socket!”
“Good,” Caelian grunts, then drags her along further.
I manage to stop him once we’re in the house and he’s hauling her off downstairs to the underground level of the estate.
“Cael,” I huff. “Please don’t do anything you’ll regret! We still don’t know what’s?—”
“I’ll do what’s necessary. Go up to bed.”
Ms. Poitier’s eyes widen, the worry frozen in them.
The allegations against her might be true, but even if there’s a crumb of doubt, I have to help her. I have to serve as that buffer between her and Caelian’s temper and thirst for revenge. She’s done the same enough times for me.
“We have to hear her side of the story!”
“I was out for a night stroll!” Ms. Poitier squeaks.
I’ve never heard her voice raise so high in pitch. I’ve never seen her so panicked and fidgety. A man as massive and muscular as Caelian apprehending you will do that to you.
We turn down the corridor lined with doors I’ve never been through.
