“Shall I...” she began, unable to endure their silent observation of his bed. “Shall I sleep on top of the coverlet? It’s not necessary to disturb the—”
“Get in. You’ll be chilled on top.”
“Thank you.” She gathered her courage and dragged the covers back. She took up a pillow and fluffed it.
“Use the light of the candles to get settled and I’ll snuff them,” he told her. “This will mean total darkness. When the last one goes out.”
“Total darkness?”
“Because the passageway has a bend,” he said. “Any light from the fireplace is cut off. It becomes as dark as... well, as dark as the inside of a hill.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said, although she had no idea if this was true. Her bedroom at Winscombe was never without the bright coals smoldering in the grate. If the fire burned out, there was always moonlight from the window.
Without looking at him, Ryan climbed gainfully into the bed, sweeping her legs quickly beneath the covers. The spring in the mattress surprised her, not to mention the cool, crisp sheets. He really was very comfortable inside this hill. She wanted to tell him that he’d be comfortable at Winscombe, too, whether he stayed one night or forever. Of course he’d not refused her for lack of comfort. Ryan, meanwhile, wasrather a purveyor of comfort. She loved fresh flowers in vases, and soft cushions in chairs, and raging fires on snowy days, with hot chocolate and currant buns.
When she was settled, Ryan watched him stalk about, snuffing the wall sconces. The room grew darker by degrees. With every new pool of shadow, Ryan’s heart beat faster. She pulled the covers to her chin.
“Would it be unsafe to leave a single candle lit?” she asked.
“I don’t know, I’ve never done it.” He snuffed the candle in the last sconce. Darkness dropped over the room like a black cloth. The only light was the candle inside the lamp in his hand. His face and chest were illuminated by a flickering glow. Her eyes followed it as he made his way around the bed.
“You’re exhausted,” he said. “It invites sleep, actually—the complete darkness.”
“Will you...” she began—but then she stopped. Her heart beat wildly. She squeezed the coverlet.
She tried again, “Before you go, may I see what it will be like? Will you stay a moment after you snuff the lamp? Could you find your way out with no flame?”
After a long beat, he said, “If you prefer.”
She glanced up, watching him in the tiny oval of light. He tipped his head down.
“Will you come closer?” Ryan whispered.
“Alright.” He walked four steps and loomed beside her. Could he see her nestled in his bed? How far did the halo of his candle extend? She didn’t know, but she could see him, and his gaze was half lidded. Heavy. He blinked slowly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m being ridiculous. I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”
“Shall I extinguish it?” he asked.
“You’ll not leave the chamber until I’m ready?” she asked. In her head, she thought,Please stay.
“I’ll not leave until you’re ready.”
“Right,” she said, releasing her grip on the covers. “Thank you. Alright, then. On with it.”
He lowered his mouth to the glass globe that protected the candle and blew. The bedchamber, which previously seemed very dark indeed, was plunged into total blackness.
“You’re alright,” Gabriel whispered.
“Yes?” she said, her voice like a squeak.
“Lady Ryan?”
“You did not misrepresent—it’s very dark indeed.”
“If you give yourself time, your eyes will adjust.”
“I can feel myself searching for some source of light—a tiny glimmer somewhere in the distance—but there is nothing.”
