Page 17 of One Wicked Secret
“Things have gone missing from The Grange,” Elsa added. “The few books I brought from home disappeared. At first, I wondered if Mrs Tate had taken them, but?—”
“Books? I implied we were going on a honeymoon. What need would you have for books?” In an alternative version of reality, they would have hardly left their bed.
“Every need, it seems.”
He deserved that. “What books did you bring?”
She shrugged. “Gothic tales from my mother’s collection.”
“Were there any notes inscribed inside them? A personal message or dedication? Any words or passages underlined?”
“No, only the bookplate my mother pasted in all her volumes.”
Bookplate? Did that hold a vital clue?
“Do you recall the design?”
“An open tome with a quill.” Suspicion flashed in her eyes. “Why all the questions about a few old books? You’ve been lying to me for months. You tell me I was found naked in Mr Carver’s bed, yet still haven’t said why you think I killed him. Now all you care about is my mother’s ex-libris.”
She was right.
It must all sound rather confusing.
“I suggest you take a sip of port before I tell you.” As he watched her drink, he wondered if the books taken from The Grange contained the information the villain needed or if the blackguard was still hunting for Magnus.
Elsa straightened her spine and sought to confirm an important fact. “Wait.Youfound me naked?Yousaw me without my clothes and carried me home?”
“Yes.” His pulse quickened. He didn’t tell her he’d kissed her forehead when Magnus wasn’t watching. That he held her so close the heat of her body warmed him. That he had paused, however briefly, to thank God she was alive.
A crimson tide rose to her cheeks. “Then the air of mystique that should exist between us is gone, too. There’s nothing left to salvage.”
She was wrong.
He longed to know every part of her: every dream and desire. He yearned to taste her lips and feel the shiver of her body beneath his.
“The mystique is still there, Elsa,” he whispered.
Her teary eyes brightened with a faint flicker of hope.
He could make her desire him, even if she hated him.
“Carver was dead when we found you,” he said, returning to the secrets he’d kept from her. “You had his blood on your hands, more smeared on your thighs. The murder weapon was on the nightstand.”
A sob caught in Elsa’s throat. “No wonder you feared I had killed him. Why wasn’t I questioned by the magistrate? I remember nothing after walking in the woods.”
Daniel dragged a hand down his face. “If the coroner’s jury had inspected the scene, they would have arrested you or Magnus.”
“Is that why he fled to Geneva?”
“Not entirely.” The truth was a noose around his neck, tightening a little more each day. “We buried the body and hid the murder. I helped Magnus tidy the cottage and went alongwith the story that Carver was away on business before he resigned.”
Clara gasped. “No, Daniel.”
Elsa’s mouth fell open, her eyes growing wide with alarm. “But I’m innocent of a crime, and now you’re guilty of one. If they find the body and catch the real villain, they’ll still punish you.” She shook her head. “Magnus is a coward. He left you to deal with his problems.”
It certainly looked that way.
“There’s a reason you were used as a pawn,” he said, wishing Magnus had sought his help sooner. They might have lured the killer into a trap. “Magnus was being blackmailed.”
