She was cut off by a familiar gurgle of laughter.
Legg. Footsteps. Rustling outside the door. Sabine froze.
Stoker swore and stepped in front of her, tucking her behind him. They were blocked from retreat by the large bed in the center of the room.
“No, not that way,” she whispered, “they cannot see your face!”
She spun him in the same moment the amorous couple crashed against the door, laughing and grappling for handfuls of fabric.
Sabine squeezed her eyes shut. Stoker widened his stance and broadened his shoulders, expanding to shield her. She tried to more thoroughly disappear behind him. She gathered up her distinctive red skirts, but the silk would not cooperate; every handful seemed to produce another flouncy swath. And the effort made too much noise. She began to silently panic.
In the doorway the laughter continued; they heard the rattle of an entwined couple rolling this way and that against the open door; fabric ripped, and there were smacking kisses and low moans.
Stoker swore softly, and Sabine glared at him.Quiet, she warned with one firm shake of her head.
“Oh, Phineas,” cooed the woman in the doorway, and Sabine squeezed her eyes shut again.
Sabine was just about to bury her face against Stoker’s chest when she felt him fasten his hand around her waist, lift her, and drop her on the big bed behind her. She hit the satin of the coverlet with a softpuff, her head bobbed on the pillow, and her skirts sprawled out like a fan. Her eyes flew open in time to see Stoker’s giant body, following her down.
Sabine made a small sound of surprise, and Stoker cleared his throat, covering the sound. They’d landed in a stack in the center on the bed, Stoker’s considerable weight pressing her into the mattress, his cheek against her cheek, his face against her neck.
“What’s that?” demanded Legg’s voice from the doorway. “Who’s there?”
They heard giggling, and the woman said, “There’s already someone in this room, Phin!”
Phineas Legg could be heard swearing; the woman laughed again. There was a small grunt, footsteps, and the loud slam of the door.
Silence prevailed. Stillness. A low fire jumped in the grate.
Stoker lay prone atop her; she felt his weight and heat everywhere. Their combined shallow breaths sawed in and out. Neither of them moved as they clung together in the dark.
