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My foot slips. The ledger falls. And before I can hit the floor, two enormous hands catch me around the waist.

Silas.

I have absolutely no idea where he came from. One second I am falling toward what would undoubtedly be a very unpleasant meeting with a hardwood floor, and the next I am pressed against a navy waistcoat with two arms locked around me.

His eyes are gold. Not amber with gold flecks. Gold.

“Are you injured?”

“No. I’m—”

“Nina.”

The way he says my name makes me stop talking.

“Are. You. Injured?”

“No, Silas. You caught me.”

His hands tighten. Something vibrates in his chest. Low. Deep. Almost a growl. He looks at the fallen ledger. The overturned ladder. Then back at me. “You could have been hurt.”

“I could have been. But I wasn’t.”

His jaw clenches. “This ladder will be removed.”

“It’s a perfectly good ladder.”

“It is clearly not.”

“Silas—”

“You will not climb anything in this house again.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

He closes his eyes. Takes one very deliberate breath.

When he opens them, the gold has receded, but his hands are still around my waist. “I apologize. That was unreasonable.”

“A little.”

He releases me. “If you require something from a high shelf, ask me.”

“I am twenty-seven, not seven.”

“I am aware, Miss Lake.”

He sounds like he is trying to convince himself. He walks out before I can say anything else.

Well. That was weird.

I look down at the scattered records. Ancient signatures. Possibly immortal employer. Who apparently moves faster than the laws of physics dictate.

We are going to have a conversation.

I go downstairs in the early afternoon. The lodge smells like cedar and old books and, underneath everything, him.

I stop outside his study door and knock.