Keeping her eyes fixed on her destination, she willed herself to take that first step. And the next. One foot in front of the other until—
“Shit!”
Her toe smacked into the unyielding stone of a raised hearth, and the second or so it took for the pain to race from her abused digit to her brain gave that imagination of hers more than enough diversion.
She balanced her weight on one leg, her good foot pressing down onto her injured toe as if force alone could stop the pain.
The initial wave passed, leaving only irritation in its wake.
Stupid girl.
If she’d paid more attention to her surroundings rather than letting the panic of them consume her, she could have avoided that little mishap.
Lesson learned.
Shifting her weight back to both feet, she stepped up onto the hearth and stretched to retrieve the candle. Bending down, she held it close to the glowing embers until its wick sizzled and caught fire.
Not even the additional light helped her make sense of her surroundings.
She could see now that there were rugs scattered around, furry things that she’d swear were animal skins. The room itself, or at least what she could clearly see, seemed entirely made of stone. Except for the two doors, which appeared to be wood.
Thick, heavy-looking wood. Like something out of a history lesson.
And absolutely, positively like nothing she’d seen anywhere in Comfort, Wyoming.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered on a shaky breath as she stepped off the hearth toward the middle of the room.
Two doors.
If she wanted to find out where she was, her obvious choice seemed to be to go through one of them. But which one?
“And behind door number one,” she muttered, deciding as she spoke aloud that she would try the door closest to the fireplace.
It opened easily enough. That had to be a good sign. At least whoever had put her here hadn’t locked her in. She hesitated only a moment, gathering her courage, before stepping through into another, equally poorly lit, room.
The fireplace in here had burned down to a low ember, giving off even less light than in the first room, but she lifted her arm to hold the candle aloft and examined her surroundings.
This room was even larger than the one in which she had awoken. To her left, a small table with two chairs stood between her and another doorway, but it wasn’t that direction that held her attention.
By far the largest single item in the room was a massive bed, with enormous wooden posters and a top rail from which hung dark folds of heavy-looking draperies.
Ominously, the draperies were drawn shut, obscuring whatever might be in the bed.
Whoever.Not whatever.Whoevermight be in that bed.
Dani stilled, holding her breath, not even daring to blink, listening for any sound that might be coming from behind those draperies.
It took a bit to separate the pounding of blood in her ears from the silence in the room, but she concentrated, willing herself to hear, and at last found what she sought.
A shudder ran up her arms and down her spine as her ears picked up the slow, steadywhooshof someone breathing.
The internal debate was short but intense, with fear encouraging her to run toward the other door while curiosity pushed her to look behind the draperies.
Aunt Jean’s oft-used saying about what curiosity did to the cat rang through her thoughts even as she found herself tiptoeing toward the bed.
Mere inches from the bed, she stopped, one hand already on the curtains, fear and curiosity still locked in a vicious battle. Granted, whoever was behind those curtains should have the answers she needed. But what if they didn’t feel particularly like sharing?
Her candle didn’t make much of a weapon. Sure, she could set the bed on fire, but that wasn’t likely to stop anyone who might be less than happy to see her here. At least, it wouldn’t stop them in time to do her much good.
