Page 75 of The Quiet Witness

She recoiled, as if he’d slapped her cheek, only the red mark was missing,

His jaw tightened, he saw. “It doesn’t matter now, Kate.”

“Oh, it fucking matters! Death is waiting for me behind the corner!” She leaned her back against the wooden frame, legs like jelly.

“I just wish you had stayed put.” She barely even caught his whisper before he whirled around, striding into the kitchen like a man on a mission. She heard the tap open, water sloshing, before he came back. Green bucket in hand, foam glistening over the edge. She watched as small puddles formed behind him. He marched straight into the office. Not sparing her a second look.

But all she could think of was that it was too full. He’d let it slosh over the edge.

She dragged herself along the wall, disentangling herself before coming to rest against the entry of his study.

Lucien was on his hands and knees, scrubbing violently over the wooden flooring in front of Max’s chair. Foam covered the entire floorboard, sizzling over whatever he was dying to get clean. He kept rubbing the same spot, over and over again.

Her gut tightened. Whatever had been there, it was gone. Long gone.

“I think it’s clean.” He didn’t even seem to hear her.

The ire she’d felt mere minutes ago, it left as soon as it had come on. Leaving her deflated, cold, with nothing but a stone weighing on her stomach as company.

She stepped over the threshold. Glancing past the study, out toward the giant window that faced over the fields. Lucien and large windows, high ceilings. The stone in her turned. It should tell her something. But she didn’t understand its meaning.

Meanwhile the cleansing continued, he didn’t even look up as she dropped down next to him, gathering her legs below her. The foam had dissipated, leaving behind colorless water.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

She reached out, resting a lone finger on his bicep. He didn’t so much as glance her way.

Fear clenched her heart together.

Wrong. Something was very wrong.

It was staring her in the face, whispering in her ear. She shook it off, clasping her hand around his arm, shaking him lightly. “Lucien.” Sluggishly he turned toward her, eyes glazed over. “It’s clean.”

He looked at the sponge in his hand, turned back to her. “Right.”

She pulled him closer. “Are you okay?”

He stilled, frowning lightly while his eyes traversed her face, tracing over every single line. He halted at her jaw, and before she knew it, his finger came to rest against her cheek. Warm against her pale, cold skin. It made a tantalizing slow descent down to her chin. His fingers closed, clasping around her sharp jawline, holding her in place.

Her limbs relaxed, heavy under his caress. While her heart skipped, the rush of it all woke up her every sense, the room fading to a blur.

Their eyes met, his deep green ones dark in the sole light that shone from the desk, his pupils dilating. His breath slow against her rapid, hitching exhales.

One second they were frozen in time. The next, he shot backwards, sitting back to throw the sponge in the bucket. Gone was the warmth, cold air brushed over her face.

In one fluid movement, he got up, whiskey glasses clinking together in his grip.

He bent down to grab the bucket. Crossing past the armchair opposite her but one of the whiskey glasses plunked against the hard wooden armrest, shattering them both. Glass exploded in every direction, tinkling across the floor. Small diamonds spinning in and under the hardest to reach places.

Lucien sighed deeply, staring at the mess. Kate peeked at his empty hands. No blood to be seen. Unharmed.

She couldn’t help herself. “Whiskey tumblers aren’t safe in our presence.”

A rough chuckle escaped him. He swallowed once before answering. “Right as rain.”

“I’ll clean it up.” She pulled herself up by the chair. Still unsteady on her legs.

“No, no.” He raised a hand. “I’ll take care of it. Later.” He turned away from her, hands clasping behind his back to stare out over the fields. She could basically hear the wheels in his brain turning. She would give a lot to know where his mind strayed.