“I doubt that. You have this air of anxious wonder that makes me suspect I could shock you all night long.”
What, she nearly said, until she realized that would only be proving his point. That she had, in fact, proven his point many, many times by constantly reacting to his taunts with mute outrage.
“You seem speechless, Nadine,” he said. “Are you?”
She turned on him. “You don’t need to keep saying my name every two seconds.”
“True,” he said. “You could be saying mine. And on that note, this is my bedroom.” He swung open the door next to hers, while she stared at his broad back, scandalized and infuriated. His room was the one next to hers? This whole time? Also, howdarehe.
Nadine drew in a deep, calming breath before peering inside, wondering if she’d see the promised depravity that everyone in Argentum claimed he possessed in spades. Like all the other rooms she had seen so far, his was beautiful, but it had been decorated to masculine tastes. It had the same heavy mahogany furniture as Ben’s room, but the colors were darker and more sedate: lots of rich, dark, midnight blue. There were more paintings in here too, which made her wonder if he had chosen them, and a glass dome under which a little Fox sparrow was eternally preserved.
Count the sparrows.
Warily, she took a few steps deeper, glancing at Cal to make sure he was a safe distance away. She headed first for the sparrow, which yielded nothing, except a sort of sadness for this small creature that had given its life to become some rich man’s bauble.
Aware of Cal’s eyes, she folded her arms, turning to study the rest of the room. Apart from his laptop, the books were the most modern things in here. The bottom two shelves were filled with law texts and everything else was an eclectic blend of classic literature, poetry, and horror. The top one had his little raven pin that he’d been wearing on his lapel at the wedding.
“Does your room have a name, too?”
“The raven room,” he said. “Because of the blue-black wallpaper and counterpane.”
She pointedly did not look at the rumpled bed as she spun to examine the tapestry hanging on his wall, about where hers would be. This one had no unicorns or maidens, though; instead, it depicted a hunting party, richly embroidered into the costly fabric, surrounded by a border of trees.
“This looks old,” she murmured, leaning closer to study the gleaming threads.
“It’s medieval,” he said, still watching her.
“What?” Nadine leaped back from it, hands covering her mouth as if her very breath could cause it to crumble. “Really?”
“We’re a very old family. See, you can see the family crest woven in here.” He pointed at the top, where a black-winged bird clutched an escutcheon in its talons. Beneath that, in wavering letters, Nadine saw that it said CULLEHRAVEN. “It’s been preserved. Don’t ask me how—my mother would know. This is wool, though. And these shining threads here are wrapped in gilt. Very expensive, especially back then.”
She felt his chest brush against her back and suddenly he was reaching around her, pulling the fabric aside. Her protest spiked into an exclamation as he revealed a door behind the musty draping.A secret door!She glanced at him and he nodded.
Wary now, she twisted it open to reveal a three-foot long hallway and another door. Cobwebs fluttered at the ceiling as the draft kicked up the sweet old scent of ancient wood.
“Where’s that one lead?”
“Try it and see.”
Nadine stepped into the little corridor, wondering if he was going to lock her in. Wouldn’t that be a fine joke, trapping her in the secret passage and then walking away?
She checked back over her shoulder and saw him smile at her, like he was reading her mind. A man like that had no business looking at her that way and telling her she wasprettywhile showing her secret doors, she thought. It felt like a game, but not like any sort of game she had ever played before, nor one she had any hope of winning.
She opened the door with a defiant scoff and found herself looking at her own bed.
Her bedroom led right into his.
Nadine took a step back and collided with Cal, who had followed her into the cramped hallway. His arms wrapped around her and she felt her knees begin to give out when he pulled her flush against him.
“W-was this always here?” she asked, in a slightly shrill voice.
“Caledon Cullraven had this hallway built so he could come to his wife in the night.” He kicked at a patch of floor that was lighter than the rest. The movement pushed his hips into her and made her breathing come up short, nearly eclipsing her horror at the revelation that she was staying in the room where his great-grandmother had had her secret trysts with her husband. “There used to be a little bench right here where she would wait. He liked making her wait.”
His hand drifted over her hip and stayed there, thumbing her waistband, before his hands abruptly tightened and he spun her around. There was a focused intensity to his features now, as if they had been hewn by some beautifully sharpened blade that could chisel a person right down to the very essence of who they really were.
“What are you thinking right now?” he whispered. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m wondering if that door locks,” she blurted.
