Too late now.
The attic was a large, airy room, with huge windows letting in swathes of light. The floorboards were bare, but old furniture was scattered everywhere, most of it covered in dust sheets. There were chairs, tables, a sofa, and even what appeared to be a daybed in the corner. A person could live up here.
A cold shiver skittered down her spine.
“You intend to keep me prisoner?” she sputtered. “Are you mad?”
He folded his arms tightly, standing between her and the door. As she watched, he lifted his heel and kicked the door shut. It closed with an ominous click.
Was there a lock on the outside? Yes, she believed there was.
“Mad? No. Furious? Yes,” he answered.
“If you want m-me to r-retrieve your watch, you w-will have t-to let me go home,” Amelia stammered. “I can get it from Marjory, just?—”
“Your thieving family will pay for what you did to me,” he spat, each word laced with venom.
Amelia blinked, taken aback. There was real rage in his eyes, and a vein throbbed in the side of his neck.
All this for a pocket watch? One that I promised to give back?
“Don’t talk about my family,” Amelia snapped, her voice tight. “You don’t know us. You don’t know what we’ve been through.”
“No, I don’t know you,” he responded tartly. “I should have known from the moment I read your sister’s name in that notebook. I thought it an odd coincidence, but I didn’t understand. I didn’tsee.”
Amelia paled, taking a step back.
No. Surely he cannot know. He cannot know our secret.
“I have no idea what you are speaking of,” she said, her voice trembling.
He smiled grimly. “Oh, no? I think perhaps you do.”
In the blink of an eye, he closed the space between them, leaning over her, close enough to fill her senses with heat and the heady scent of sandalwood andleather, of all things.
“Why don’t you tell me a thing or two about your family then?” he breathed. “Tell me. I want to know.”
She held his gaze, swallowing hard. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.
Yes, that was it. At any moment now, she would wake up, tangled in the sheets in her too-hot bedroom, probably with Nancy having crawled into bed with her sometime during the night. She would wake up as usual and go to work. An ordinary routine for an ordinary day.
She couldn’t be here, in this place, with this odd and confusing man who made her feel afraid one minute and… andnot afraidthe next.
The feeling did not seem to have a name just yet. Perhaps that was for the best.
“My family?” she repeated, her voice flat. “You know, don’t you? Or at least suspect.”
He held her gaze. “Holt is not a rare name, after all.”
Amelia abruptly turned away. She found herself drawn toward the large windows, like a moth to flame.
“My family is Marjory and Nancy, my sisters,” she stated. “There was Mama, too, but she died months ago. They are my family.”
“And the rest?” he prompted. “Your father?”
“I have told you who my family is. The rest do not matter. Needless to say, we have been shunned by them.”
“Who isthem?”
