By the time she reached the first storey, she convinced herself she had conjured up ghosts out of thin air. All the same she slipped quickly past the doors to the main staircase, making as little noise as possible.
Light poured over the threshold of the door closest to the stairs. She tried to recall the house’s arrangement. That door led to a bedchamber, like most of the rooms up here, but it had not been a big one or very grand, as she remembered. It had been emptied of everything years ago.
All the same she attempted silence while she approached. She cautiously peered around the doorjamb.
Her memory had failed her. This was not a minor bedchamber. It was the entrance to a large dressing room. Worse, the owner of the house now occupied it.
And he was naked.
Gareth stood with his back to her, without a stitch of clothing on. He appeared to be preparing to dress. Garments waited on a chair nearby, and he worked at unfolding a shirt. Water pools glistened on the floor near the washstand.
Every inch of her body tensed and demanded she leave, fast, and make her escape. Her mind refused to listen. She just stared with breathless fascination.
She had seen her brother naked, of course. Even as an adult, since she had taken care of him. But by then he was wasted and thin and nothing like this. This man was in his prime, with tense, broad shoulders and tight skin and muscles and hard, round swells for his bottom. She found that part especially compelling, although she looked hard at his legs.
He set aside the shirt, and reached for trousers. Suddenly his hand froze a few inches above the garments. Awareness flexed through him like a ripple. His profile hardened into dangerous planes and his mouth into an uncompromising line. His other hand stretched toward the dressing table.
Alarmed, she turned and scurried back the way she had come, to the servant stairs. She prayed the garden door below would be unlocked.
***
Damnation. Gareth acknowledged the prickle in his blood for what it was. A warning. Someone else was in the house, and not far away.
He reached toward the dressing table. Upon arriving back, he had set his dagger there when he undressed. He never traveled without one, after being the victim of a highwayman when he was at university.
His hand closed on it, and he turned. He saw no one in the chamber, or at the door. Someone had been there, however. He had all but felt the thief’s breath.
He threw the dagger down, pulled on his trousers, grabbed the weapon again, and strode out of the dressing room. He’d be damned before he allowed trespassers to make free with thelodge, especially while he was inside it. One confrontation, one capture and strong warning, and word would spread that the situation had changed.
Faint sounds came to him, from the back of the house. Whoever had intruded now descended the servant stairs, and not even stealthily. He did not pursue in that direction. Rather he ran down the main stairs, outside, and around the house.
More sounds back here, in the basement kitchen. The low windows proved too dirty to peer through. He walked down the stairs to the submerged door, and positioned himself to its side. With luck the thief had not availed himself of a kitchen knife.
The thud of the door’s bar shoved aside. His thief pushed against a door whose hinges needed oil. On the third attempt the door flew open.
Gareth grabbed at the figure flying out, swung it around, and slammed it against the stone wall. Even as he did, he knew he had made a mistake.
CHAPTER7
Eva landed hard against the stones. A cry escaped her and her eyes clenched against the pain. When she opened them again, an astonished, furious Gareth held her shoulder against the wall. Her gaze locked on the dagger aimed at her chest. His own chest, still naked, framed the view.
“Eva! What in hell—” His gaze shifted from her to the dagger. He threw the weapon down and lessened his grip on her shoulder. He did not release her, however. “What are you doing here?”
She thought fast. “I went for a walk and thought I would see if Erasmus was here. I had a question for him.”
Gareth’s lids lowered. “Things are not so improved that they require a caretaker when I leave. If you have been to town even once during my absence, you would know he was not coming here while I was gone.”
Thinking fast had not helped her. Nor did thinking slowly. She could not drum up another good reason for being here.
“Did you come here to see whether I had returned?” His gaze darkened. Deepened.
“Of course not.” There was nothing else for it. “You said you would be gone at least a fortnight, and I thought perhaps while you were gone I could see the improvements you had made.”
“Do you often enter other homes when their owners are gone?”
Such an unfortunate question. “I am sorry. I should have never entered.”
“Do not apologize. I am glad you came.” His hand fell from her shoulder. Finally. “Come inside. I will show you the improvements.” A slow smile formed, but he looked no friendlier. “Several chambers still require new fabrics and such. You can advise me.”
