Page 44 of Her Beast

He ground his teeth until his jaws ached.

Patience.

Malcolm squeezed his eye shut and struggled with the violence that was threatening to tear him apart. Slowly and methodically, he regained control of his fraying temper, breathing deeply for several moments, until the rage storm had passed.

Smith had given him one of the people who’d murdered his wife, but Malcolm strongly suspected there was more. The only way to find out the entire truth was to wait until he hadallthe puzzle pieces.

Only then would he put them together.

Until that time, he’d keep Julia Harlow, but he’d respect her privacy and leave her alone.

Allalone.

∞∞∞

Julia opened her eyes and then whimpered and quickly closed them again as the pounding in her skull intensified.

The brief, blurry glance was enough to tell her that she wasn’t in her own bedchamber.

Last night came back to her in jagged fragments: the wretched dinner, Sebastian’s disdain, the carriage… Yes, she’d been in the carriage when it had stopped and a large man had opened the door and…

And that was all she recalled.

Her stomach gurgled loudly and she realized she was starving. But then, when was she not?

Still, this hunger was different, sharper and painful; she actually felt hollow inside.

Julia opened her eyes, but slowly this time. Although her head didn’t stop pounding at least the light—which was quite muted—didn’t stab at her.

Gradually she could see clearly enough to take in the large, exquisitely furnished room around her. It was comprised of celestial blue and soothing shades of ivory, cream, and white.

Julia felt as if she were reclining on a cloud. Was she dreaming? Dead?

“Hello?” she called out, her raspy voice echoing eerily in the cavernous chamber. “Is anyone there?” she asked a bit louder, even though it made her head pound.

She pushed herself up onto her elbow, which is when she discovered that she was naked. Blood pounded in her temples and her face heated; somebodyhad undressed her! Julia pulled the blankets up to her chest and glanced around the room. A garment that looked to be a dressing gown was draped over a nearby chair.

She flung back the covers and stalked over to the robe, her eyes opening wide when she held the garment up in front of her.

Nadine might have starved Julia, tied her to a posture board, and dressed her in frilly gowns that she despised, but her stepmother had never stinted when it came to fine clothing because that would have reflected poorly onher.

But nothing Julia possessed was as gorgeous or expensive looking as the dressing gown.

It was yards and yards and yards of gossamer-thin blush-colored silk, the material so light and soft that it felt like she was wearing down when she slipped it on.

She gasped when she caught sight of herself in the enormous mirror that took up most of the wall opposite. Julia’s image briefly distracted her from her current predicament. Her hair, which was normally plaited before bed, had been unbound and hung in a riot of messy curls that fell to her waist. Anger had given her normally pale cheeks color and the robe clung to her overripe body like silken sin.

For once, she looked wild and sensual rather than blandly angelic.

A pair of pink slippers sat neatly by the leg of the chair and when she slid her feet into them, she discovered they fit perfectly.

Julia didn’t want to ponder how her mysterious captors knew her sizes. Instead, she tried the door, unsurprised to find it locked. So she yanked on the velvet servant cord, pulling it repeatedly before turning to investigate her prison.

There were four rooms: bed chamber, sitting room, bathing chamber, and dressing room. Both the décor and room size made her suite at her father’s house appear paltry by comparison. Everything was the finest of its sort—the furniture lovely, the fabrics exquisite, the art on the walls looked fit to grace a museum.

The door open and Julia spun around to find an older woman dressed in the sedate garb clothing of an upper servant.

“Good morning, Miss Harl—”

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