Even in his sturdiest boots he could walk nearly soundlessly, a habit learned from hunting in the woods. He made his way in the dark, at first. He’d learned which stairs creaked and which patches of floor tended to groan when weight was applied.He passed Gordon the Cat on the prowl for mice and rats and probably just for the sheer pleasure of sniffing about his kingdom, and nodded to him.
Gordon raised his tail in salute and gave a soft chirp.
Another floor down and he grinned when he heard Delacorte snoring like a tree being ravaged by a rusty saw. Delacorte could vibrate paintings from the walls.
And then went down through the quiet kitchen and into the breezeway connecting the inn to the Annex. In there all the Vaughns slept.
He imagined Lillias’s head on a pillow, her coppery brown hair a sweaty tangle thanks to lovemaking.
“Christ,” he whispered.
Only then did he pause to light the lantern as he made his way toward the ballroom.
He’d taken the ladder down from the wall, but someone had pushed it upright again.
He froze, heart in his throat.
And a pale blur had just vanished up it, headed for the roof.
He wasn’t certain if he was afraid of ghosts or even believed in them. He guessed he was about to find out.
Up the ladder he went.
And there, in a night rail, a shawl pinned closely about her and a braid down her back, about to settle on the edge of the roof, was Lillias. She didn’t look as though she was about to jump. She looked, in fact, like a colt who’d just been released from a winter stall to find it was suddenly spring.
She whirled.
“Don’t scream, for God’s sake!” he said. He kept his voice just above a hoarse whisper. “And don’t move or I might scream. Perhaps you should step back from the edge.”
“Good evening, Mr. Cassidy.”
“Goodmorning, more accurately. The watch just cried half past one.”
Itwaspossible he was dreaming. He looked down swiftly to verify that he was clothed.
“Are screams even noticed much around here?” she wondered dryly. “I’ve heard a couple tonight. I think only a few of them were animals.”
“The heat brings out the best and worst in everyone. And everything. I can only assume the latter is why you’re on the bloody roof.”
She smiled at that. “Oh, now we hear your true colors, Mr. Cassidy, when the epithet jar isn’t standing watch.”
“I think this is an exceptional circumstance. A vote would vindicate me.”
She snorted. “Are those dark creatures moving about rats?” She was peering avidly below.
He perversely liked thatshewasn’t screaming. She sounded more curious than anything.
“Gordon takes care of the rats in the boarding house.” He answered her question before she could ask it. “What are you doing on the roof?”
“I’ve noticed he’s rather fat. Gordon.”
“Draw your own conclusions.”
She gave a soft laugh at that.
And like everything about her, that laugh charmed and infuriated and inflamed him.
“I wish I could have a cat. They make Claire sneeze.”
