Page 50 of The Sound of Seduction
“It’s not about who you’re after but who may be after you. Or me. They attacked my sister twice already. And since he knows I am here, I pose a risk to you.”
He turned to her fully, his composure reasserted, yet the echoes of his fear still lingered behind his eyes.
For a moment, neither spoke.
He turned toward her, his protective instincts etched in every line of his body. And Wendy, caught in the pull between duty and longing, could no longer pretend not to feel it.
“You were afraid,” she found herself saying softly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
Stan’s lips parted—not in denial, but as though caught unprepared for her insight. Finally, he exhaled. “It’s late, Nurse Wendy. Go and see to your rest.”
“I shall gather the plans before Nick comes back to fetch us.” Pippa turned and left.
But far too much had passed unspoken to leave it there. Wendy hesitated, her heart warring with her sense. “No one meant harm. Truly.”
“It isn’t harm that you mean, that concerns me,” he said, quieter still, his expression unreadable once more. “Where is your brother?”
It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a dismissal, either. It was something heavier. Something that made her hesitate only long enough for the growing pull of everything yet to be understood.
“Wendy?” Stan’s voice was a low murmur, scarcely more than her name carried on a breath.
She blinked up at him, her pulse quickening as the space between them seemed to collapse. The air was thick now, charged with something unspoken yet unmistakable. Her hands trembled at her sides until, as if drawn by some unseen force, she reached out and brushed her fingertips against his.
He didn’t withdraw. Instead, his hand turned instinctively, his palm cradling hers with a tenderness that sent heat rushing to her cheeks. She felt the roughness of his skin, a silent testament to strength and grit, yet the way his fingers curled gently over hers spoke of care, of warmth.
The movement was slow, deliberate. Her breath caught as their fingers intertwined, slotting together as though they had done so countless times before—as though hours ago, in another fleeting moment, their hands hadn’t already whispered secrets of this connection.
His gaze held hers, unwavering, and in it she saw everything that words could not express. The moonlight filtering through the windows softened the angles of his face, casting shadows that only made his bright eyes seem more piercing.
Her heart swelled as his thumb brushed lightly across the back of her hand, a simple touch that made sparks dance beneath her skin. Neither of them moved closer, yet the unspoken pull between them was undeniable; every inch of space seemed to hum with the possibility of being closed.
“Stan…” she whispered, the name trailing off her lips like a prayer, her voice trembling with equal parts wonder and hesitation.
“I saw you through the window in the dark and was alarmed. If something happened to you… you and Thea—” He took a deep breath. “I need to know that you are safe.”
He leaned in slightly, his presence so near now that the faint warmth of his breath brushed against her skin. The world around them seemed to fade, and Wendy felt as though she stood on the precipice of something boundless and irrevocably beautiful.
Then—“Wendy?” The spell shattered as Nick’s voice called from the hall, clear and entirely banal against the fragile magic of their moment.
Wendy started, her hand slipping from Stan’s as though retreating from something forbidden. Her eyes darted toward the doorway where Nick’s shadow lengthened, heralding the intrusion of duty.
She turned back to Stan, and her heart clenched at the sight of him. He had stepped back, his posture composed and his expression carefully neutral once more. Yet there was a flicker of something in his eyes—reluctance, perhaps, or the faintest echo of what had just passed between them.
Her breath hitched as she reluctantly relinquished his hand, fingers uncurling one by one. “Over here!” she called, forcing brightness into her voice, though she felt the wistfulness tugging at her chest.
Nick appeared in the doorway, his easy smile in full force. “Oh, there you are,” he said, glancing between them pleasantly. “Good evening, Stan.”
“Good evening,” Stan replied, his voice as steady as ever, though Wendy thought she caught the faintest edge of restraint in his tone.
“Would you like to join us?” Nick asked, stepping further into the room. “Violet mentioned that we ought to reconvene for dinner, and it seems Pippa has agreed at the mention of a hot roast.”
Stan gave a brief nod, his hands falling to his sides.
“Wait!” Wendy said.
*
Stan’s lips pressedinto a thin line as Wendy spoke. “I ate when the patients did,” she said, her tone light and convincing enough to fool anyone who wasn’t paying close attention. But Stan wasn’t so easily deceived.
