He chose not to tell her about the footsteps along the hall. Being a man of sound rational mind, he knew he would find a logical explanation.
Isabella moved to lay her head on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re with me. I would rather join the nuns at St. Augustus than stay here on my own.”
Her whispered words breezed across the sensitive skin on his neck. A pleasurable shiver raced through him. Knowing that he had to place some distance between them for fear of losing his mind to the lustful pangs that wracked his body, he eased her arms from around his neck and forced her to straighten.
“I’ll not leave here until we have caught the culprit.”
She sucked in a whimper. “Do you promise?”
The desperation in her voice touched his heart. He cupped her face with both hands. “I promise.”
They stared at each other for the longest time. Her rich brown eyes searched his face. Many times he had lost himself in their dark, unfathomable depths. His gaze dropped to the luscious lips moving closer in mute invitation.
Just one brush would suffice. Just one sweet, chaste kiss.
The temptation proved too great.
He bent his head, eager to taste the only woman he had ever wanted. The erratic beat of his heart hammered in his ears. With his mouth hovering a mere inch above hers, he hesitated. They were so close their breath mingled in the space between them. When she pressed her open mouth to his, he closed his eyes, seared the sensation to memory.
The kiss was slow, tender, the pressure light. Still, the touch of her lips rocked him to his core. It was not a lustful claiming. It was more a soothing caress, a sensual massage for the soul.
She pulled away, just a fraction, yet he could feel her breath breeze across his lips. Disappointment became a sinking feeling of despair. But as his mind scrambled to decide what to do, her mouth recaptured his with a level of raw hunger that belied any outward calm.
Their hesitant tongues touched. The sound of her ragged breathing was music to his ears. He crushed her to his chest, drank deeply, their tongues thrusting wildly in a dance that made every part of him swell. Her frantic fingers found their way into his hair. He pulled her closer, desperate for the heat of her body to warm his cold, lonely heart.
Sweet Jesus. The tips of her nipples brushed against the fine lawn of his shirt, and he knew he would not be able to stop until he had sated five years’ worth of lust and longing.
The sudden tapping noise coming from his room across the hall caused them both to jump back. He forced his gaze away from Isabella’s swollen lips, torn between pulling her back into his arms and going to investigate the suspicious sound.
“Did you hear that?” Isabella clutched his arm. “There is someone in your room.”
He covered her hand with his own. “We would have heard him coming up the stairs,” he said in a bid to reassure her, although there was every possibility that the footsteps he’d heard earlier were made by the same person. “Wait here. I shall be back in a moment.”
“No. I’m coming too. You cannot leave me here alone.”
It was a reasonable request. “Very well.” He stood, shuffled uncomfortably in a bid to ease the throbbing ache filling his breeches, and held out his hand to her. “You must stay behind me but stay close.”
Her dainty palm settled against his. The pleasurable sensation that accompanied the intimate gesture served to bolster his courage. They crept out into the hall, entered his chamber with a level of extreme wariness.
Once again the room was empty, dark.
It did not make any sense. He had left the candle flickering in its metal holder. Glancing at the side table, he noticed an adequate enough stub to last for another hour, maybe more. Perhaps a sudden draft had blown it out.
With a firm grip of her hand, he moved over to the window and pulled back the drapes. “Perhaps a bird flew into the glass,” he said trying to think of any reason to account for the odd noise, other than the possibility that it was made by a ghost.
“As a man who is usually so logical, I know you don’t believe that.” Isabella screwed up her nose. “There are no birds about at this hour of the morning. Besides, it sounded like someone tapping on wood.”
Tristan turned back in an attempt to look for the source. He sucked in a breath, unprepared for the sight that greeted him.
Isabella gasped. “I told you,” she cried as they stared at the writing on the wall adjacent to the door. “Now will you believe me when I tell you there is no explanation for the strange things that go on here.”
Against the blue flock wallpaper the words get out were scrawled in some sort of luminous substance. In the dark, the command had the appearance of an ominous warning from beyond the grave.
Tristan stepped closer, keen to observe the markings. He came to an abrupt halt but a foot or so away. Isabella stood at his side as they stared at the words for a moment. The faint odour lingering in the air confirmed his suspicions.
“Don’t touch it,” he said, lightly tapping her outstretched fingers as one would do to a curious child. “If I am correct, it is white phosphorous and can cause severe burns if it comes into contact with the skin.”
She dropped her hand. “How did it get there?”