“There’s no one in the other rooms. I wasn’t asleep. I was reading in my bedroom and didn’t hear anything.” Her tone sounded high-pitched.
“Madam, I must make sure the thief isn’t here.”
“Police Constable Davis, I appreciate your concern, but I think the whole robbery thing was a practical joke. No one is here. If a thief had broken into my house, I would have noticed it.”
Davis loitered, gazing around.
“And I’m alone with you. Honestly.” She held the front door open. “I must ask you to leave, constable, before my mother returns.”
“Very well, madam.” Davis touched his hat and finally dragged his sorry arse out of the house.
Bugger. Royston exhaled, closing his eyes.
Angeline locked the door and, shedding the cloak on the bannister, hurried to the parlour. “I don’t understand. What’s happening tonight? You come here and then a police constable shows up.”
“The warning about a robbery is a set up. I mean, I’m sure what Davis said is true. Someone went to the police to report a robbery. But no one saw me. I didn’t use the front window. No thief worth his salt would ever use the front window under the street lamps.”
“This lesson in thievery is fascinating, but I’m afraid I’m more interested in understanding what you’re doing here.” She pointed to the other side of the corridor. “To the kitchen. I’ll clean your wound, and you’ll give me answers.”
“Fine,” he croaked out.
“And don’t stain the floor with blood, please. The floorboards get stained easily. Cleaning them is a chore. Be careful on the carpet as well.”
“I’ll do my best to bleed only where it’s appropriate.”
She stopped. “I don’t particularly like your attitude.”
“I don’t particularly like being shot.”
“You broke into my house and gave me a fright. I’ve been generous to you. I could have told the constable you were here. I could have shot you again.”
He worked his jaw. “Shall we carry on? I’m bleeding. You keep forgetting that.”
“By all means.” She lit a few lamps in the small kitchen, which smelled of garlic and spices, and offered him a chair.
He sat down on it, wincing as the wound burned.
The cut might need stitches. The bloody arrow had cut through his jacket and shirt and opened a wide gash on his biceps. Even closing his fist hurt.
He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt as she rummaged through the cabinets, which contained a ridiculous amount of labelled jars and pots. Shelves loaded with more glass jars took up an entire corner. It looked like a dispensary.
He groaned when he shrugged off his jacket.
“What are you doing?” Her high-pitched tone startled him.
“Undressing myself.”
“But…” She clenched a pot for dear life.
“How can you clean my wound if you can’t see it?” He removed his bloodstained shirt by grabbing it from his back and pulling it over his head.
Even in the dim light, her fierce blush was evident. “It’s just that… oh, fine.”
She dragged a chair next to him and focused on the wound, pressing a clean cloth to it.
Her sweet rose scent teased his senses. The soft glow from the lamps suited her. The golden light kissed her cheek and profile, making the tips of her long eyelashes glitter and enhancing her plush lips. Lips he’d kissed. Lips he wanted to kiss again.
She caught him staring and blushed again. “Is that it? All this fuss for a shallow cut?”
