Captive of Sin

She held her breath and listened.

Not a sound.

Gideon obviously hadn’t returned.

Curse him.

She should lie down. Rest her throbbing head. Still, she sat bristling with awareness, straining to discern the slightest sound through the enveloping darkness.

Very carefully, she edged off the bed.

Nothing stirred in the next room.

Icy fear trickled down her spine. What if Felix and Hubert lurked out there, ready to snatch her back to Holcombe Hall?

With shaking hands, she slid a large china jar from a chest of drawers. Its pale glimmer made it easy to locate. The jar wasn’t much of a weapon, but, armed, she felt less vulnerable.

Crunching her toes against the chill, she padded on bare feet across the floor until she reached the door. The parlor beyond was quiet, empty. The fire had burned down, but its low glow revealed that nobody was there.

Except…

“I know you’re here.” Relief mixed with a fortifying dose of irritation trickled down her spine. Her voice sounded scratchy and unused. Speech made her sore head ache.

No answer.

She stepped farther into the room. The floor was cold against her soles. She took another step, so at least she stood on the rug and could curl her toes into the wool.

The silence continued.

Her lips thinned with annoyance. “It’s no use pretending.”

More silence.

She bent and placed the heavy jar on the floor. Unless she lost her temper and smashed it over Gideon’s thick skull, she wouldn’t need it.

Would he continue this foolish game?

She heard a shuddering sigh from the corner of deepest shadow. “How did you know?”

“I always know when you’re near,” she said wearily, and felt her way across to the sideboard.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Perhaps it was the desolate feeling attendant upon the early-morning hours, but right now, she felt that nothing in the world mattered.

The air was so still, she could hear the even susurration of Gideon’s breath. His chair creaked as he shifted. The fire crackled in the background. The intimacy was intense, fraught, electric. At the same time Charis felt that a thousand miles of frozen sea separated her from Gideon.

Gooseflesh prickled her skin. She should have grabbed a blanket before leaving the bedroom. She picked up a candle, intending to light it in the coals.

His eyesight must be better than hers in this darkness because he spoke quickly. “Please don’t light it.”

She paused and faced him, leaning against the sideboard and shivering in the cold. “Why?”

He didn’t answer. Or not in words anyway. “Go back to bed, Charis.”

“Alone?”

“For God’s sake, yes.” His voice cracked. “We’ll talk in the morning.”