Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)
He stepped from the wardrobe and walked to the bed. Madeline returned to the room and stopped, her eyes showing the uncertainty he sensed in her.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
Her voice was soft and slightly husky, and as warm as a whiskey on a cold night. A sound any man could get used to. He wondered whether it was natural or caused by fear.
“Better,” he said. “Though I would like to know how I got into these … pants.”
Her gaze ran down his body, then danced away, and he had to stop himself from smiling when he saw the blush creep across her cheeks.
“Your clothes were soaked, and I didn’t want you running around naked.”
After the flight here last night, he wouldn’t have been able to run anywhere. And she still hadn’t explained why she’d dressed him in her clothes instead of his own. “So why didn’t you just get something out of my bags?”
The look she gave him was both wary and confused. “This is my room. Your clothes aren’t here.”
He glanced across at the painting. “This is the Captain’s Quarters, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She hesitated, and a flash of understanding ran through her eyes. “You were staying here, too—before someone took that potshot at you?”
Potshot. What a quaint way of putting the attempt on his life! “Yes. And it looks as though someone didn’t expect me back, either.”
She shifted from one foot to the other, then crossed her arms. He wondered if her uneasiness stemmed from the situation or his presence in her bedroom. “Someone obviously suspects you’re still alive, though,” she said softly.
The only thing obvious was that she was in serious danger. The night manager, or the man now masquerading as him, wouldn’t have been acting so suspiciously if he didn’t suspect her somehow. For her own safety, she had to leave.
But something told him that getting her to leave wasn’t going to be an easy task.
His thoughts stilled … were the things he’d hidden behind the bathroom vent still there? Christ, he hoped so! He’d hate to have to tell his old man that he’d lost the ring. It was a family heirloom and had survived five generations of Barnett males. He wanted to pass it on to his own son one day. Not that that looked likely, given his present job.
He resisted the urge to get up and check. If it was gone, there was nothing he could do about it now. It was more important to sort out what was going on and find the missing kid before the next new moon.
“You’re right. Someone does suspect I’m alive, which means you’ll have to leave, Madeline.”
“Please don’t call me that. I prefer Maddie.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but he caught her flash of pain anyway. Who had hurt her so badly that she now hated her given name? “Maddie, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. But I’m not leaving.”
“You have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything!”
He raised his eyebrows at the vehemence in her voice. Pain ran through the swirl of emotions coloring her aura, a river of tears she would never shed. Her gaze was determined when it met his, and anger stained her cheeks a pretty pink.
“My nephew disappeared two nights ago. I want you to help me find him.”
Damn! He ran a hand through his hair. Two teenagers this time, and only five days to the new moon. “I’ll find him, but you have to go back home. I can’t protect you twenty-four hours a day, and someone must suspect you’re somehow connected with me.” Why else would the stranger be so interested in the room?
She clenched her hands and glared at him. Even half-closed and full of anger, her almond-shaped eyes were lovely.
“I do
n’t expect you to protect me. I can look after myself, thank you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. These people have already tried to kill me. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I don’t want to be hurt, either, but I’m not going anywhere until I find Evan.”