“I wish you had told me this before, but at least you’ve done so now.” He gave her a stern look. “Did the man board in London when you did? Or was it later?”
She frowned slightly. “I can’t say. I hadn’t really given him much thought until I walked into the bookshop and saw him behind the counter. Then I recalled the stranger with the book in his hand and realized that they were one and the same.” She paused. “Do you think it might be Hector?”
That had been his thought as well. “I’m not sure. Hector might have merely found a way to spell cast you in his presence, so that it might make it appear as though he was the one responsible. As I said, Hector has the ability to change his appearance. Subtle differences can make a big difference, especially since I haven’t laid eyes on him for so long.”
“How would you recognize him?” she asked curiously.
“A sensory perception. A talent that only witches and those tied to the otherworld can possess. I might not recognize him at first glance, but my ancestry will be able to pick him out of a crowded room.”
She crossed her arms. “And yet, you still won’t allow me to go with you.”
He clenched his jaw, and instead of replying directly, he said, “I shall inform you of anything I uncover.” His voice was flat, unfeeling, and he despised himself for it, but the thought of her anywhere near a man like Hector caused panic to swell within him. Without turning back around to face her, he offered a curt farewell. “Good night, Miss St. Clair.”
He had nearly made it to the door when she rushed past him and blocked his path. Her lovely face was wreathed in fury. “No! You don’t get to waltz out of here like that. And certainly not by calling me ‘Miss St. Clair.’” She snorted. “Did what we just shared mean so little that you can’t call me by my given name?”
“Very well.” He eyed her steadily. “If it will ease you mind for me to call you Marlene, then I shall, but my answer for tomorrow still stands. You will be safe as long as you stay within the manor.”
She lifted her chin in a mutinous fashion. “I’m to be a prisoner, then? I fear that’s not what I signed up for when I became your unwitting mistress for the night, Sir Gothry.”
He laid a palm against the door and leaned closer to her. “You berate me for using formalities, and yet, you do the same in an effort to wound me?”
She lifted her chin in a haughty manner. “You are still my employer.”
He leaned even closer, so much that their lips nearly touched. He could feel every soft exhale she took, could feel the hitch in her breathing as she anticipated the kiss that would never come. “Your employer,” he murmured. “If only it were that simple.”
He leaned back. “I’m having your things moved to the north wing tomorrow afternoon.” With that, he brushed past her and walked out the door.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Marlene was still fuming at being left behind while Alaric went into the village without her. After spending such a breathtaking evening together, he had to turn things sour by adopting such a high-handed manner, even if it was done in the guise of ensuring her safety.
Since he was gone, she decided that she would utilize this time, and her frustration, by removing the key from her lantern and heading for the north wing. Now that it was likely known that she would be moving into the mistress’ chamber, her presence wouldn’t be noted as odd or suspicious. Although she had been compelled to tell Alaric of her interlude at the bookstore in the village, she had kept the matter of the key to herself. Now, she was glad she had. At least, this way, she still felt as though she retained an upper hand of her own.
Besides, she told herself, it wasn’t the key itself that made a difference.
It was whatever it unlocked. If she discovered the secret first, then perhaps she might be able to put an end to whatever devious plan Hector had in mind before he had the chance to enact it.
She paused before Alaric’s chamber door and glanced up and down the hallway, before she entered.
She shut the door behind her and tapped the cold metal against her palm. She wasn’t sure why it had burned her that day in the village, unless it was a warning to keep it away from Alaric’s enemies. If Roxane, or one of his other ancestors, was guiding her, that would make sense. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the source of such heat, especially if Alaric’s theory was correct and she was being pursued by something much more dangerous— and evil—than Hector.
She withheld a shudder and straightened her spine. She wouldn’t accomplish anything with fear. But neither did she wish to get caught riffling through Alaric’s chamber, so she set to work, daring to search where it wouldn’t be obvious anything had been disturbed. Under the bed and through various drawers and shelves, she came up empty handed. All she accomplished was pausing now and again to breathe in the scent of one of his shirts in the wardrobe, where she was transported back to last night when he’d held her so tenderly in his arms. She yearned for his touch again. At times, she nearly forgot she was supposed to be upset with him.
With a sigh, she left his quarters and crossed into the adjoining sitting room. She didn’t have any more luck there with her search for a mysterious, locked item, so she made her way into the mistress’ chamber, where the servants would soon be bringing all of her things. That was another reason she’d decided to take the key with her, to ensure it remained out of sight.
She opened the door and gasped. It was just as large as the master’s chamber, and the colors were in brilliant shades of deep purple and turquoise, with accents of gold and deep mahogany furnishings. It was quite impressive and put Marlene in mind of a fashionable peacock. It was definitely the most colorful and ornate of all the rooms she’d been to in the manor, thus far.
Again, there was nothing of note to be found, so she ended her search without being any closer to the truth. Not only did she desire to know what this key opened, but she knew it would also lead her to the reasons she might be of use to a witch such as Hector.
She made her way back to the front of the manor, but rather than return to her old rooms, she ventured into the master’s study.
She recalled the first time she had entered this room that first, fateful evening when she’d arrived. Naïve and holding out hope that this place would be the answer to her prayers, Marlene hadn’t foreseen what was in store for her. Neither the visions that would return from her youth, nor the way her heart threatened to give itself over to the lord of the manor. If she had known, would she have come?
Her chest ached as she considered that she might have never met Alaric. Of course, she couldn’t mourn someone she didn’t know.
She walked over to the terrace doors and sighed. Her breath fogged on the windowpane and she lifted her hand to trace a rain drop that slid down from the other side, as if responding to her melancholy.
She was starting to feel as if these four walls were closing in around her and decided that a brisk walk would help to cure her sudden malaise.
