"Coombe."
The single word fell like the sound of doom. A vengeful, threatening doom.
Silas started. He uttered a sound like a shriek, released her, and leaped to his feet-almost landing against Lucifer. Silas whirled, clutching his chest, ruining his floppy bow. "Oh, my! My word. You-you startled me."
Lucifer said nothing at all.
Silas looked into his face and started to back down the path. "Just having a friendly word with Miss Tallent. No harm in it-none at all… you'll have to excuse me." With that, he whirled around and clattered down the path as fast as his high heels would allow.
Still seated on the slab, Phyllida watched him go. "Good Lord."
She knew when Lucifer's gaze left Silas's retreating figure and fixed on her. "Are you all right?"
The words sounded like they'd been said through clenched teeth. She regarded him calmly and stood. "Of course I'm all right."
"I assume the impression Coombe was laboring under was mistaken?"
She shot him a frosty look, straightened her skirts, lifted her head, pointedly stepped past him, and headed up the path. "Silas knows something-something about one of Horatio's books."
He fell in beside her, a large, hard, darkly masculine presence pacing by her shoulder. "Perhaps I should pay him a visit. I'm sure I could persuade him to reveal his precious secret."
There was a wealth of menace in his tone; Phyllida was grateful Silas wasn't there to hear it-he'd have fainted on the spot. "Whatever it is may have nothing to do with Horatio's murder. We know Silas is unlikely to be the murderer, and he certainly isn't the man who attacked me-he's too short." She paused before the vestry door and glanced at Lucifer. "You can't go around intimidating everyone into doing as you wish."
His midnight-blue eyes met hers. The message in them was simple: You think not?
Raising her chin, she stepped into the vestry-and stopped dead. He walked into her-she would have fallen but for the arm that wrapped around her, effortlessly lifted her, then put her down two feet farther into the room.
She caught her breath and swung around. "I left the water jar outside."
He raised one hand-it held the water jar.
"Thank you." She took it-her fingers brushed his. She blocked the sensation, wiped her reaction from her mind. Turning to the vase, she filled it.
The sense of menace behind her didn't abate.
"Don't do that again."
"Don't do what?"
"Slip away where I can't see you."
Amazed, she turned. "Where you can't… Who appointed you my keeper?"
His face hardened. "Your father and I-"
"You discussed this with Papa?"
"Of course. He's worried. I'm worried. You can no longer"-he gestured sweepingly-"waltz around the village as if you don't have someone trying to kill you."
"You have absolutely no right to-to dictate to me!" She whirled, snatched up the vase, and headed into the nave. "I'm my own person and have been for years. I'm astonished Papa-" She broke off; she couldn't think of words to express the jumble of her feelings. Not precisely betrayal, but certainly a sense of having been handed over…
She plonked the vase down on the shelf beside the pulpit, breathed in, then rearranged the disturbed blooms.
She didn't need to think to know where Lucifer was-she could feel him right behind her. After a moment, he stepped around to her side. She felt his gaze on her face, sensed him trying to glimpse her eyes. She refused to look at him.
Finishing the flowers, she brushed her hands, then tensed to step away-
Hard fingers slid beneath her chin; he turned her face to his.