Page 42 of The Secret of the Three Fates
I slipped inside, closing it behind me, and prepared to launch in to Ruan on proper etiquette for answering one’s door in a timely manner. However, the room was empty.
Impossible.I’d heard someone rustling around in here only seconds before. Not to mention there was still an indentation on the bed where he’d been, with an ancient Cornish grimoire lying open exactly as I’d expected. Mercifully the pages inthatbook had not been dog-eared like his medical text.
On the bedside table a cup of tea sat abandoned, steam curling up in the chilly autumn morning.Where was he?
I was about to question my doubt in the existence of ghosts, when a large hand clamped itself over my mouth and I was yanked into the darkness. The great wardrobe door shut behind me with a soft click. I squirmed against my assailant, fully prepared to bite the hand that held me until I caught a familiar verdant scent.
Ruan.
My body instantly slacked against him. Strange that even in the darkness I could be certain it was he, but it wasn’t the first time I’d been in such close proximity to the infuriating man. His breath was hot on my neck as his fingers loosened against my lips. Before I could gather my senses, another sound came from his room. Someone else was there too. For several heartbeats I remained, nestled against Ruan’s chest. His one arm clamped tight around my stomach, his left palm gently over my mouth. I willed away the inconvenient sensations this closeness brought. This was not the time, nor the place to have said sensations.
“Mr. Kivell… Mr. Kivell, are you here? It is important.”
What was Lady Amelia doing here? I had scarcely seen her after she lured me to the orangery. Since then she’d obediently made herself scarce as instructed. If the girl had a lick of sense she’d continue to do so until the killer was caught. Then again, who at sixteen has any sense? I certainly didn’t—having fallen in love with the first honey-tongued would-be bigamist who crossed my path.
At least I’d been marginally wiser the second time around.
Ruan’s chest quaked again in amusement.
Stop eavesdropping.
I squirmed against Ruan’s grasp, but he tightened his hold on me.
Lady Amelia said something softly to herself, before turning and leaving. The door closing behind her. The muscles in Ruan’spalm flinched against my skin in warning to stay silent. He must be making certain she stayed gone. I breathed in against his palm, inadvertently flooding my senses with him. It was entirely unfair how good he smelled.
Several more seconds passed in silence before Ruan released me and I scrambled out of the closet into the glaringly bright morning light of his room. We’d been tucked away with his clothes for probably a half hour. Long enough for my legs to grow stiff. I stretched, smoothing my irreparably wrinkled skirt as he pried himself out of the tight spot.
It was an entertaining sight to behold, with his fingers wrapped around the wooden opening, one leg out and the other still inside. “The great Pellar of Lothlel Green hiding from debutantes in a cupboard.”
Ruan, for his part, was unamused by the situation. He raked a hand through his dark hair, placing much-needed space between the two of us. “I was not hiding. I was…” He prowled to the window, angrily thrusting his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers.
“Just lurking in your wardrobe waiting on me to come by for tea?” The echo of his fingers remained warm on my skin.
“Ruby, I am not amused by any of this,” he snapped, turning to face me. “A woman was killed here three days ago, you’re suspected of killing her, and every time I leave my room I’m being tracked down by every woman between sixteen and sixty like some kind of bloody badger. Do you not have the sense of a hoverfly?”
I sniffed indignantly. “You could lock the door. It keeps them out.”
“Why bother whenyou’llpick the lock?”
His words stung more than they should. Surely, he didn’t want to keepmeaway. “It’s because you’re different. Intriguing. How can you blame them? The parties and scheming of well-bred menout for one’s inheritance or frankly just to get under one’s skirt. It’s all tiresome. I wouldn’t pay them any mind, they’re out for a lark. You’re an adventure for them. That’s all.”
He took a step closer, looking down at me, his eyes bright. “Is that what I am to you? Alark.” The bitterness dripped from the final word. I had struck a nerve.
“Of course not—you’re… I’m simply saying that I understand what they want from you—”
“Do you…?”
I swallowed hard. I ought to take a step back. I really ought to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Believe me, I know whattheywant too. Gods know I’ve caught my share of their fanciful imaginings since I’ve been here. But that one…” He pointed toward the door, his nostrils flaring slightly. “The girl dresses like a strawberry scone but her mother ought to know the things going on her in her head.”
Bravo Lady Amelia. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her. She had exquisite taste if she was admiring my Pellar. “Ruan… women are allowed to have carnal thoughts too. It’s perfectly normal. Natural even for girls of that age to want to… explore.”
“I don’t mind them having the thoughts, but I’d rather they not have them about me where I can hear them.”
Well, that would be a problem. “Ah. Yes, I could see how that would be uncomfortable.”
He raised his brows to underscore the point. Suddenly he recalled something, slapping his hand on his thigh before moving to his grimoire. He flipped to the cover and pulled out a telegram, handing it to me. “You were right about your solicitor.”
