But she could stare in fascination as he struck flint to steel and coaxed a flame to life on a solitary candle that sat on a lone table with alone chair, the sudden glow carving his features in sharpness.
Her gaze lifted to the scar on his lips, stark and vicious in the flickering light. How would it feel to trace a finger along the edges? She quickly glanced away, cheeks threatening to heat, her gaze falling on the black leather gloves covering his hands instead.
“Do you not find those uncomfortable?” she asked before she could think better of it, nodding faintly toward his hands.
“I don’t take them off.”
“Ever?”
“Not in company.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why, but she swallowed the question back. What did he keep hidden from the world? Heaven help her, he made her want to peel them back finger by finger. Conflictingly, some part of her almost preferred the barrier. The gloves had become part of him—dark, forbidden, and somehow unspeakably alluring.
She rubbed her temples. “I think this was a mistake.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he agreed, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, gaze on her.
“Weren’t you the one who invited me over?” If his command could even be called an invitation. “Then I should just return tomyliving quarters.”
“I couldn’t disagree more.”
She crossed her arms, mirroring him. “You just agreed it’s a mistake.”
“I’ve made worse choices.”
Hah! She didn’t doubtthat. “I should still go back,” she insisted. “To my own space. My own bed.”
“And sleep with the door to your shop in splinters?”
“I’ll barricade it.”
“You’ll still be alone.”
She opened her mouth, then promptly pursed her lips. Yes. She’dbe alone. Which, she finally grasped, was why she had agreed to come with her landlord in the first place. She hadn’t wanted to spend the night questioning every sound the night welcomed. “Just so you know, Icantake care of myself.”
“Of course,” he said softly. “But tonight, you don’t have to.”
She pointed toward the small chamber beyond, where an open door showed that a single bed waited. “Where am I to sleep?”
He straightened from his lazy lean and stepped inside. “Bring the light.”
She hesitated, then lifted the candlestick and followed him in, the soft glow throwing their shadows across the walls. She swallowed. How could two shadows on the wall look so...intimate?
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Naturally, she didn’t argue. The situation was awkward enough without drawing more attention to the fact that she was alone with a man. Calliope ought to even have felt a slight pinch of wariness. Maybe even fear. But those things were curiously absent. And well, the man looked like no floor could bring him down. Like he’d slept in alleys and battlefields all his life. She shouldn’t admire that. She absolutely did.
Have you forgotten he’s a ruffian?
Of course not, but it was hard to remember when he looked like a dark knight existing only to protect her! Besides, hadn’t they mentioned Mr. Rollings earlier? The very alive Mr. Rollings? That counted for something, right?
“The sheets are clean.”
Oh! Lord. Had she been staring at the bed too long? “Thank you,” she mumbled, placing the candle on a small table and making haste in slipping between the covers, shrugging off her boots as she did so and tugging the blanket up to her chin before glancing over at him.
The man moved like a storm barely held at bay, meticulously shrugging off his coat, tossing the garment over the back of a chairbefore pulling a quilt from the closet and spreading it right beside her bed. They might as well have shared the coverlet. They were so close. Too close. Closer than she’d ever been to any man at night.
Stars. His presence was all consuming even when he wasn’t with her. Like this? The man was impossible to ignore. Impossible not to feel. He wrapped himself around the room. Around her. How was she meant to fall asleep with him so near? He was everywhere. No matter how tightly she closed her eyes, she wouldn’t be able to shut him out.
