The fire crackled, but its warmth couldn’t reach her. He crossed to the bed and pulled the heavy blanket from its foot.
“You’re cold.” He approached slowly, stopping just within arm’s reach, and held it out to her.
She yanked it around her shoulders before he could change his mind. The fabric engulfed her, thick and soft. Warm. She caught the scent of wood smoke and something masculine. Her teeth continued to chatter.
“You’re welcome to sit by the fire.”
She didn’t move. Here, in the corner, she was safest. She could see everything.
“Your body’s in shock. Adrenaline is making you shake more than the cold.”
“What’s your excuse?”
He glanced down at his dripping clothes. “I don’t know.”
She thought about the others out there, wondering how they were managing after the rain. Another chill raced up her spine, and she shivered, sucking in a sharp breath.
“A warm bath will settle your nerves.”
It was a cruel thing to say. If only she had such luxuries.
He walked away, leaving her huddled on the floor in a puff of crimson covered down. Her eyes followed his every move as he lifted a fire iron and prodded at the flaming logs. The butt of his gun showed at his back. They might be out of the rain and in a warm suite, but she was far from safe here.
He disappeared through a narrow alcove on the other side of the bed. Daisy stretched her neck, but whatever existed down that hall was hidden in shadows.
Light spilled from the doorway. Then came the rushing whisper of water, impossibly civilized within the chaos outside.
She remained frozen in her corner, the blanket clutched around her shoulders, her eyes roaming the suite in silence. The key still sat on the table, brass gleaming in the firelight. She could take it and escape, locking him inside.
But then what?
She would be back out there with the others.
What was he doing in there?
She studied the room through different eyes now. Not just exits and weapons, but details that confused her.
Books stacked on the nightstand, their spines cracked with use. A leather portfolio thick with papers. A half-empty tumbler of amber liquid abandoned beside an armchair.
The scent of jasmine wafted through the air on a current of warmth, cutting through the smoke and cedar. She breathed it in despite herself, her tense muscles loosening by fractions.
He emerged from the alcove, steam curling around him. The fine wool of his soaked waistcoat clung to his broad shoulders and chest, accentuating the tapered curve of his waist. Water dripped from his dark hair, sliding down his jaw to the hollow of his throat before disappearing beneath his collar.
He looked miserable. Frozen. And he hadn’t done a single thing to address his own discomfort.
“The bath is ready.” He stepped aside, gesturing toward the doorway with an open hand. When she didn’t move, he sighed. “If I have to pick you up, you won’t like it.”
Fear tightened like a knot in her chest.
“Daisy.”
Her breath stilled in her lungs.
He knew her name? How?
Rather than explain, he looked at her with fraying patience. “You’re injured, freezing, and filthy. I’m trying to help you.” When she still didn’t move, he looked away in frustration, then looked back at her with resolute determination in his stormy eyes.
It was enough to drive her to her feet.
