he examined her.
With splayed fingers, she touched her cheek. ‘I’ve been ill.’
He choked out a laugh, lowering the lamp to the table. The side of his mouth curled. A smile that turned into a private chuckle before it reached his eyes. He looked away, seeming to discount her, and his own words. ‘Then I can hardly wait to see what you look like when you recover.’
‘Sir.’ She cleared her throat, because it hardly seemed to work. ‘I believe that is improper for you to say.’
‘Of all my choices, it was the most proper,’ he said. ‘But I do beg your pardon.’ A pause. ‘As I should.’ Words exactly perfect. Emotionless.
Now he stood so close the light flickered on his face. He had more ragged edges than smooth. She could not believe her father would invite this man into their home.
But this man would understand others defending themselves.
And if she were to go out without a true chaperon, she might need to take care.
Presently all she needed protecting from was her embroidery needle and that she might tumble out of the chair when she fell asleep stitching. But by Tuesday morning, that might change. She was ready to take her chances with the outside world. ‘So how does one hit someone effectively?’
A muscle in his jaw tightened. ‘Punch straight. Keep your elbow as close to the side as possible. Don’t swing out. Move like a lever. Not like a windmill. A windmill...’ he demonstrated, holding his arm straight from the shoulder and moving his fist forward ‘...is too easy to block.’
‘I will never be able to punch someone,’ she said, feeling helpless. She would never be able to go after her sister. ‘I’m always surrounded by chaperons,’ she said, concluding her thoughts out loud. ‘You would think I am gold, the way my parents guard me.’
True lightness touched his eyes. ‘Perhaps you are.’
Then darkness moved into his face. ‘You are standing alone in a room with a man you know nothing of. The world is full of evil and evil enjoys waiting for just the right moment.’ He stared at her. ‘Evil is patient. It only needs one moment of opportunity.’ His eyes narrowed and he leaned in. ‘One moment.’
‘You were invited by my father. He makes no decisions rashly.’
His slow intake of breath through his nose raised his body enough to show a muted dismissal of any disagreement she made to his statement.
‘I can scream.’
‘You would be surprised,’ his voice thundered, ‘how little noise can carry—even on the most silent night.’ He waited and cocked his head. Listening.
Then his voice took on an innocence. ‘Well, perhaps my words were not loud enough to summon help for you. Scream,’ he said. ‘See who comes running.’
‘It would be embarrassing for you.’
‘Just say I startled you in the shadows. You thought me an intruder. A ghost. A raging bear. You were sleepwalking. Whatever.’
‘I could say you accosted me. Do you not realise the danger in that for you?’
‘I’ll take that risk.’ The muscles at the side of his face moved. ‘I’ve taken many worse.’
He gave a twitch of his shoulders and blandness settled in his eyes. He took two steps to the door. When he touched the door, he moved with liquid stealth and turned back to her. ‘And how truly unsettling for me to be thought a rogue.’
Instead of leaving, he shut the door. He leaned against it, arms relaxed, hands behind his back, trapped by his body against the wood. ‘Now. Embarrass me. Scream. And not just once.’
Her stomach thudded, but she wasn’t truly afraid. He’d put his hands behind him and he had one of the I told you so looks in his eyes.
Silence engulfed them. ‘I’m not trying to scare you, nor am I jesting.’ He spoke in measured tones. ‘Your voice cannot carry through wood and stop dreams of dancing angels. By the time the first shout was out of your mouth, my hand could be over it and, if someone awakened, they would think it an imagination. They might lie awake for a moment to listen, then sleep would grab them again, telling them that they heard nothing.’
She rubbed her arms, trying to soothe away the chill. ‘If you’re trying to make me uncomfortable, you are succeeding.’
He opened the door and stood aside. ‘You can leave at any time you wish.’
He paused a second. ‘Did you hear my last words? Really hear them? You can leave any time you wish. Why would I even think it necessary to say such a thing to you? Is this not your house? Where you are safest in the entire world? I take it for granted that I am stronger than you and can control you because you are smaller.’
She couldn’t untangle his words. They just didn’t make sense to her.
‘Make a fist properly and use it properly.’ His chin lowered. ‘You can leave after punching me. Fair enough?’
‘Not fair at all.’ She stared at the beast in front of her.
‘A fist,’ he commanded.
She did.
‘Thumb out.’ He stepped forward.
She did.
‘Not like that. Your thumb is in a straight line.’
With two steps and keeping his body to the side so he did not block her exit, he moved closer. His eyes locked on hers for a moment, no threat, and a softer question behind them. ‘May I?’ He raised his hand level with her side as he spoke.
With one fingertip reaching out, he rested it at the base of her fist. Then with his other hand, he slid her thumb down until it rested against the outside space after the second knuckle of her hand, making sure her fingertips folded in, and her hand had a square shape to it.
This beast of a man touched her as lightly as if she were made of silk. His fingers, so tender against her hand, shot bolts of awareness into her. She couldn’t move her hand.
‘It might save your life some day.’ His voice rolled over her, reaching deeper into her than the touch had.
‘I doubt that.’ She took a step back, causing his hands to fall to his side. ‘I am careful. To have you in my house is an aberration.’
‘True.’ His eyes registered the jab and lightened. ‘But aberrations happen and sometimes more than once. You may still shout if you wish. As many times as you like.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps someone would come instantly to your rescue. Perhaps you would see how much longer it takes for someone to rescue you than you realise, or perhaps I would truly see how safe you are. Convince me of how well you are watched.’
‘What kind of game are you playing?’
‘I want you to see how much your survival could depend on you and how much fighting back is the best, or even only, friend you may have at hand.’
‘I
