Page 53 of The Lyon Whisperer
A soft knock sounded on the adjoining door. This time there was no doubt. Blood pounding in his ears, he strode for the door and swung it open.
Amelia stood, wraithlike, on the other side.
Her bedchamber was pitch black, but the golden light from his grate reached her.
She had tucked the bulk of her hair into a small, white lace cap, and wore a demure white lawn robe, belted at the waist, which covered her from her neck to her toe.
The scent of her perfume, something floral and fresh, wafted into his chamber. His free hand clenched at his side. It was all he could do not to scoop his arm around her waist and carry her to the bed.
She sent him an impish smile. “I thought I heard you moving about.”
“Would you liketo come in?” Chase gestured in a sweeping motion toward his bedchamber.
She hesitated, though she had been the one to knock. The space seemed so very masculine. So very Chase. Bold and intimidating, lush and inviting.
He’d parted his drapes in lieu of lighting a candle or oil lamp. Silvery moonlight combined with the golden glow of the grate to bathe the rich dark colors of the carpets and papered walls, and the massive four-poster bed with its ruby-brocade covering in a shimmering luminescence.
As for the man himself, dark hair slicked back from a recent dousing, wearing his thick silk robe—and likely nothing underneath—she could almost wish the chamber doused. The sight of him, so vital, the tantalizing glimpses of his tanned throat and upper chest, was playing havoc on her senses.
He arched a querulous brow, and she took the plunge, striding into the chamber like she did so every day.
Still. Nerves had her talking in a brisk manner that she feared belied her confidence. “I waited up as long as I could, hoping to talk with you. I finally fell asleep several hours ago, but something woke me.”
She turned when she reached the bed to face him.
“I apologize. I shall have to be more careful in future.” He’d closed the adjoining door and stood with his back to it like a gatekeeper barring exit.
In fairness to him, shehadknocked.
He, on the other hand, had paused at her door without knocking while she hovered on the other side, heart racing, palms sweating. She told herself she’d leapt out of bed at the least little noise in hopes he’d returned and might share details of how his investigation proceeded.
It had nothing to do with the way her mind kept straying to the magical way he’d made her feel on that bed in the inn. Nothing whatsoever.
She moistened her lips. “You did not wake me. I…sometimes do not sleep soundly.”
He started toward her, his gait relaxed yet somehow reminiscent of the lion whose moniker he bore.
She swallowed. “You must be tired. I should have considered. You did not sleep a wink last night—”
“On the contrary, I feel surprisingly alert, and I wanted to speak with you.”
“Oh?” She chided herself for the hopeful note in her voice and cleared her throat.
He nodded and indicated the armchair near the grate. “Sit. I’ll fill you in on the day’s events. Would you care for a nightcap? I could do with one.”
She wrinkled her nose recalling the amber liquid which had burned its way down to her stomach. “Perhaps a small one.”
His teeth flashed white in a brief, dazzling smile. He disappeared into his antechamber and returned moments later with two snifters in hand, one with a mere splash of liquid in it which he handed to her. He edged onto the side of his mattress, long legs extended and crossed at the ankles.
It occurred to her that either one of them could have suggested they move into the antechamber where, likely, they could both avail themselves of an armchair.
She took a tiny sip of the heady liquor and remained silent.
“I visited Dodd at his residence. Through the closed door, he informed me he was ill and wasn’t receiving callers. I insisted he would see me. He complied.” He paused to sip his brandy.
She couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but she thought his eyes did a slow sweep over her. Gooseflesh sprouted over her limbs.
“Mayhap you should come sit beside me, Amelia,” he said in a low voice. “I’d hate our conversation to wake the rest of the household.”
