“Is it only a bride you’re not?” She was close enough that his breath glanced off her skin when he laughed, his amusement spiking when she jumped away again. “Either way, the intent is still the same. To guard the virtue of innocent maidens from their wicked, rapacious husbands.”
She turned her back on him, her arms shifting as she did up her blouse. “That sounds like something out of the dark ages,” she griped.
“I told you we were old-fashioned.” He glanced at the vanity mirror, presently reflecting part of her torso and hands. “It’s been a while since I was in this room, though. Apart from the obvious lack of maidens, this house is so big you can go weeks without seeing parts of it—until something in one catches your interest, and reminds you why it’s worth coming inside.”
He was deliberate in his emphasis this time and was rewarded with another muffled exclamation of outrage from his prudish little sparrow.
“You’re such a—a jerk! Why did you even come in here?”
Because I’m willing to do what needs to be done to keep you safe.“You left the door open, little sparrow.” He spoke lightly. “Some might see that as an invitation.”
She looked over her shoulder. Her frown deepened. “I definitely closed it.”
“Are you sure? It was standing open earlier. I only happened to notice when I went by this morning—when you were putting on your little show.”
That put the scowl back on her face. She was standing straighter now, her body so stiff that it looked like she might just snap if pushed far enough. Backlit by the sun streaming in through the window, her brown locks were transformed into something rutilant and fiery.
A quiet girl full of hidden fires.
“You noticed,” she repeated.
“I notice a lot of things.” His fingers continued their slow trace of his mother’s embroidery. It was very fine work: roses, hellebore, and datura, vined with careful leafy stems. His mother had done it years ago, back when her hands were steadier, as part of her bridal trousseau. Her nerves made such tasks impossible now. “It’s why I’m so good at what I do.”
Nadine was watching his hands. When she spoke, her voice was cold and missish. “I hope you don’t also notice people while they’re sleeping.”
Cal took his hands away, surprised. Did she know? Had she been awake, after all?
“Nadine,” he said, “if you really don’t feel safe around me, perhaps you should lock your door—unless you enjoy putting yourself at my mercy.” He rose from the bed. “Now that you’re decent, why not come downstairs with me? And then I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“Are there gaslights on this tour?” she snapped. “Because you seem fond of those.”
She is amusing, he thought, as she went with him gamely enough despite her bluster.But jumpy. She stayed close beside him, her steps uncertain as they navigated through the halls of the house. Every time she trod on one of the loose boards, he had to fight the impulse to correct her, because of course, shewould want to know why and that would have been impossible to explain.
Most of the windows in Ravensgate faced away from the sun, making the house stingy with light, and the tall walls of evergreens at the edge of the property provided a perpetual curtain of shade. His great-grandfather had handpicked the wallpaper from China, as his mother was so fond of mentioning on the odd tour, but the dark colors showed none of that prized metallic glitter in the gloom and made the choked hallways feel as narrow as a gasping throat.
Can she feel it, too?he wondered, watching the breath leave her as they made it to the kitchen, her body relaxing for the first time since he’d happened upon her in her room.Does she know that she’s being hunted?
He had made arrangements with the kitchen to prepare her meals in advance, and the look of conflicted gratitude on her face when she received her breakfast made the effort well worth it. Satisfied, he leaned back against the counter to sip his coffee as he watched her eat.
It was far too easy to imagine her here, at his side. She would make a very pretty wife. Of course, if shewerehis wife, he’d serve her himself in their own rooms so he could enjoy her while she still looked freshly-fuckeden dishabille.
She glanced up suddenly, as if she had heard that thought. He set his coffee cup aside and smiled. “Ready to see the house?”
“No tricks?” she said.
“No promises,” was his gentle retort. “But I’ll try to behave. Since you’ve already seen most of this floor, we can start at the top and work our way down.”
She immediately tripped as they were going up the stairs and he caught her, looping an arm around her waist with onehand on the banister to stabilize them both. Nadine squirmed away, her eyes averted. “Careful,” Cal said, giving her shoulder a warning squeeze.
“There was something there,” Nadine blurted, looking at the runner. This time, she didn’t shrug him off. “But I don’t see anything.”
“There’s a lot of loose boards in this house. They tend to jump out at you.”
“Why don’t you fix them?”
“A lot of it’s dimensional lumber. Nonstandard. But also, it’s the way of these old houses to wear down and grow old. It’s considered tasteless to restore them unless absolutely necessary.”
Nadine scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her tempting mouth. “Who decides that? The old house police?”
