“Don’t tell the master,” Sara said. “Nero hasn’t been himself since Mr. Mallory shot him. I’m sure that’s all it is. You’d be out of sorts if you were shot, too. I haven’t been able to get close enough to see if the bullet is still lodged in him. He is probably in much pain.”
“That may be, but I still think the master ought ta know.”
“You just leave Nero to me,” said Sara. “Whatever the master needs to know, I will tell him. Now, we’d best hurry. Do not dare run away and leave me again! The candles are nearly burned to the sockets; hasty motion will snuff them out altogether, and I do not relish the thought of groping through these passageways blind in the dark.”
Whimpering, Nell scurried along the dank corridor, despite Sara’s warning. Did the girl not hear a word she’d said? The candles began to flicker, their feeble flames drowning in the melted wax with the abigail’s haste. It splashed on Sara’s frock, and on the bare skin of her hand and forearm, as she tugged on Nell’s sleeve, slowing her pace. It was too late, one candle expired, and then another, spreading the acrid odor of smoke and burnt tallow. Only one candle remained lit, and Sara jerked the girl to a standstill.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she snapped, trying to steady the candle branch in Nell’s trembling hand. “No! Don’t tilt it! The tallow will extinguish the flame.”
“Oh, my lady, it’s goin’ out!” the abigail shrilled.
“Be still!” Sara seethed. “Give it here!” Snatching it from her, she held it upright, a close eye on the fading wick. The candle was disappearing into a pool of wax in the socket. There was precious little time left, and the passageway was unlit. “Why couldn’t you have chosen a branch with fresher candles?” she scolded.
“They was fresh when we set out, my lady,” the abigail defended.
“Never mind,” said Sara. “Where are we? Which of these panels did we come through? They all look the same to me.”
“This one, I think,” said Nell. “No . . . that one there on the left. Oh, I dunno, my lady. I’m all mixed up!”
“Well, you’d best un-mix yourself posthaste, my girl. Dawn will shed no ray of light here, and this last candle is spent in seconds!”
Nothing would quiet the abigail. She was clearly struck with terror, whining and trembling—rooted to the spot. Another sound bled into the noise, stopping Sara’s free hand in midair as she felt the damp wall for an exit from the passageway. A low, guttural growl behind them spun her around to face two shiny eyes glowing red-gold with reflected light from the candle before her motion snuffed it out. Nell screamed, and started to run. The last thing Sara saw was the flashing gleam of sharp fangs. The last thing she heard was the patter of the animal’s feet, its long nails clacking on the flat stones underfoot, before she darted after the hysterical abigail, seized her arm and drove her through the panel she’d been searching for. It opened to the safety of one of the inner chambers, and swung shut behind them. Above Nell’s shrieks, Sara could still hear the whines and growls on the other side, and the frantic scratching as if the animal were trying to dig its way through stone a foot thick.
She sagged against the wall. The candlestick lay somewhere on the other side, where she’d dropped it. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t help them now, with the candles all snuffed out.
“Will you stop that infernal caterwauling!” she snapped, giving Nell’s arm a shake. “This is serious here. I have no idea how to get through to the other side. You brought me into this secret chamber. You have to collect your wits and get us out of this!”
“I . . . I can’t see!” the girl wailed. “ ’Tis black as sin in here. I’m afeared o’ the dark, my lady.”
“That is unfortunate,” said Sara. “There is nothing in the dark to harm you, Nell. We’ve left the danger behind. And that’s another thing. Never run from a threatening animal. Never show your fear. That poor dog is in pain. This is evidently his domain, and we have intruded upon it. Dogs can be very territorial, but Nero would never harm me. You, however, do not seem to share that distinction, since you say he snapped at you once already. He probably tastes your fear. He knows I do not fear him, and I mean him no ill.”
“Then, why is he scratchin’ and growlin’ like that, my lady?” said Nell.
“I shan’t presume to get inside the mind of a pain-crazed dog,” Sara responded. “He is probably trying to get to me. I’m the only friend that poor animal has in this house. There isn’t time to puzzle it out. Stop that sniveling! We have to get out of this maze of smugglers hideaways, and back to the house proper before we’re missed.”
Sara took off her shoe and set it on the floor against the panel they’d just come through. “Start feeling your way along the wall,” she said. “Once we reach my slipper, we’ll know we’ve come full circle. That way at least we will know where one exit is.”
“That won’t matter a whit ta me, my lady,” snapped the abigail. “I ain’t never goin’ back inta that dog’s domain again!”
“Then help me find the way back into the outer chamber,” said Sara, nudging her along.
The room was sparsely furnished, though each time they bumped into a table, or settle, Nell’s whimpers became outcries. Sara had long since given over trying to silence the girl. It wasn’t until they reached the back of the armoire they’d come through earlier, and pushed through it into one of the legitimate chambers, that the abigail quieted. Light from the full moon flooded the room, and while Nell held the armoire panel open, Sara ran back for her shoe.
“Hurry, my lady!” Nell cried. “Just, please hurry.”
Sara needed no prompting. It had grown late. All she could think of was getting back to her suite before one of the servants, or Nicholas himself, caught her out. Once safely inside, Sara’s hand hesitated, hovering over the doorknob.
“You ain’t thinkin’ o’ leaven that open, are ya, my lady?” Nell breathed. “Not after all o’ this just now!”
“I am,” said Sara, “and it’s nothing to you, Nell.” She glanced down at her frock. It was splotched and streaked with mildew and dust. Her hands and arms were likewise decorated, and she could only imagine the state of her face, and her hair, which was hanging on one side where it had come loose from its combs. “I know it’s late, but I shall want a good soaking,” she said. “Have the hip bath filled, and then you may retire. I shan’t need you again tonight. I shall manage on my own. This frock will have to go straight into the dustbin. It’s beyond saving.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady,” said Nell, pulling herself up to her full height, “but I won’t be goin’ back inta them passages again, no matter what ya say I owe ya. I’ll give my notice first, or ya can sack me as ya like.”
“I shan’t need you to, now that I know my way,” Sara returned.
The girl gasped. “Ya can’t mean you’re goin’ back down there?” she cried.
“If needs must, but not tonight. The only place I intend to go now is into a nice hot bath, and then to bed.”
Rose oil never smelled so sweet, and silkened water, fragrant with the woodsy aroma of rosemary, never felt as delightful as it did that night. Sara nearly dozed in the bath. She hated to leave it, and she didn’t until the water began to grow cold around her. Nell had left a stack of towels on the chiffonier, and she dried herself, and towel-dried her hair, but when she turned to collect her nightdress and wrapper, it was to find that she had an audience. Nero was sitting in the doorway, his head cocked to the side, his long, pink tongue hanging down in a manner that almost made it seem as though he was smiling at her.
“Nero!” she gushed. Though she’d left the door ajar, this was the last thing she’d expected. He seemed docile now, but dared she trust that deceptive image? She took a cautious step closer. “Have you quieted down?” she crooned. “Yes, I see that you have.” She braved another step nearer and he rose, wagging his long, bushy tail as he pranced in place.
Sara discarded the towel wrapped around her, and wriggled into her nightdres
s—a gauzy shift of butter-colored lawn, so fine it was almost transparent—and squatted down, stroking Nero’s damp, shaggy coat.
“You’ve been outside, haven’t you?” she said. “The sea air seems to have calmed you. You took another route back into the house proper, too. You know them all, don’t you, boy?”
The animal whined and shook himself, nuzzling her hand, licking it with that soft, warm tongue.
She braved a look at his wound. Inching her fingers along his foreleg, she spread the fur and found it higher up.
“It is in your shoulder,” she marveled. “Why, it’s nearly healed. This doesn’t hurt you, does it? Then, what on earth was wrong with you before? Was it Nell? You don’t like her, do you, Nero? I wonder why? Maybe you sense that she isn’t all that fond of you.” She surged to her feet. “Well, that’s no excuse for being rude. You frightened her half out of her wits. You won’t do that again, will you, boy?”
If a dog could look nonplussed, this one did. His expression extracted the closest thing to a giggle that had passed her lips in days, and she ruffled the thick fur about his neck.
“All right, play dumb,” she said, “but I’d better not have a pitcher of water handy if you do it again. You need to learn some manners, boy—though I’m not surprised, considering the fine example your master sets for you.”
She nudged him aside, and walked into her bedchamber. Nero padded after her, gazing at her in the oddest way before loosing the most mournful howl she had ever heard. It sent the fingers of a crawling chill along her spine and puckered her scalp with gooseflesh. All at once, he bolted and streaked into the sitting room, and out through the open foyer door.
Sara had had quite enough roaming about for one day, but she poked her head out into the corridor just the same to follow his direction with her eyes. To her amazement, he didn’t head straight for the landing as he had in the past. Instead, he disappeared in the shadowy recesses of the green suite across the way.
Sara stared after him. What on earth was he doing in there? Should she investigate? It was only across the hall. She shifted from one bare foot to another, deliberating for several moments before throwing caution to the winds and venturing out into the deserted hallway. It was only a few short steps, and she entered the darkened chamber. She found herself in a well-appointed sitting room. Soft, diffuse light coming from the bedchamber beyond showed her that the room was empty, and she followed the shaft of moonglow, taking slow, measured steps.
“Nero?” she called. Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Suppose Mallory were hiding there? She almost turned back at the thought, but it was too late for that. Instead, she crossed the bedchamber threshold only to pull up short at sight of Nicholas standing in the middle of the Oriental carpet. He was naked and aroused.
Twenty-one
Sara gasped aloud. Nicholas stood rooted to the spot, his hypnotic obsidian stare riveted on her.
“N-Nero?” she stammered. “Where—”
“Gone,” said Nicholas. “I chased him off.”
“W-what are you doing here like . . . like that?” she said, stumbling over every word.
“Preparing for bed,” he snapped, grabbing his shirt off the floor in a vain attempt to cover his nakedness.
“Here?” she said. “Why here? Why aren’t you preparing for bed in your own suite?”
“Because I cannot keep an eye on you from my own suite,” he pronounced.
“Oh!” Sara seethed in exasperation, slapping at her nightdress with a balled-up fist. She spun, making a dash for the door, but he threw down the shirt, reached her in two strides, and spun her toward him.
“You don’t think you need watching?” he asked, close in her face. “Look at yourself! Wandering the halls half-naked in that nightdress. It’s as transparent as a cobweb. You may as well be naked. What if you’d come upon Mallory?”
“You’re a fine one to speak of going about naked, my lord!” she retorted, struggling in his arms. “You seem to be separated from your clothes again, yourself. And I wasn’t wandering the halls. I merely stepped across the corridor because I saw Nero enter here. He had just left me, if you must know, and I wondered what he was up to. He hasn’t been himself of late, and I’m concerned about him. It’s a good thing, too, because no one else seems to be. Everyone wants to be rid of him—you want to shoot him. Don’t dare deny it! I saw you, remember. Perhaps you’ve already disposed of the poor animal. Oh, my God, if you’ve harmed that dog—”
“What do you mean, he hasn’t been himself?” Nicholas interrupted.
Sara’s mouth dropped open. There he was, in the altogether, gripping her upper arms like a madman as though he hadn’t the slightest notion that he was stark naked, and what had gotten his attention? Nero’s peculiar behavior.
“Answer me, Sara!” he said, shaking her gently.
“Nicholas, please . . . ,” she murmured.
Steering her to a wing chair beside the unlit hearth, he sat her in it. “Don’t move,” he cautioned. Snatching his dressing gown from the bed, he shrugged it on with rough hands. It was too late. She’d already seen what lay beneath—the broad shoulders, the lightly furred chest, the narrow waist, and well-muscled thighs, the magnificence of his sex. His body was burned into her memory, just as his scent was. Every instinct urged her to vault out of that chair and run, but she could not—would not. Her body was on fire for him.
“How is Nero . . . different?” he persisted, standing over her, arms akimbo, his broad chest heaving.
“For the most part he’s been playful and loving,” she said. “There’s no question that he’s protective of me. It’s just since he was shot that there seems to be a change.”
“What kind of change?”
“Oh, it isn’t that he’s changed completely. It’s just that sometimes he frightens me now. He never did before.”
“Frightens you how? Come, come, Sara, I need to know.”
“Why?” she snapped. “Do you want me to give you more ammunition? Do you want me to load the gun that kills him? I think not, my lord.”
“Bloody hell!” Nicholas thundered. “Nero is mine. If he is out of sorts, Mrs. Bromley can concoct a remedy. Why do you insist that I mean to kill that animal?”
“Because I saw you try to!” Sara snapped. “Or was that during one of your ‘lapses’?”
Nicholas didn’t speak. His posture collapsed, and his hands fell limp at his sides. He looked so lost in that moment she was tempted to melt. After careful deliberation, she decided that she would tell him, but not because of that—because there might be help to be had for Nero if she did.
“It started with little things,” she said. “The way he tried to take over my suite, the way he’d curl his lips back in a silent snarl. He wouldn’t let me examine his wound, and then just now, he let me spread the fur—even let me touch it.”
He seemed to turn as pale as the moonlight filtering in through the leaded panes. Several times he opened his mouth as if to speak, but didn’t, and she couldn’t read his thoughts. His body tensed again. The veins in his neck were standing out in bold relief, and the muscles in his jaw began to pulsate in a steady rhythm.
“Once, I found him in my bed,” Sara went on. “He had pulled down some of my things from the armoire and dragged them about. When I scolded him and tried to nudge him off the bed, he sprang at me—”
“He didn’t bite you?” Nicholas cut in, taking a step toward her. For a moment she feared he was about to spring as Nero had.
“N-no,” she murmured, catching her breath. His sudden motion had disarmed her. “I . . . I doused him with water from the pitcher by my bed. His teeth banged against it, not me. And then, the next time I saw him he was just as he was tonight, like the old Nero, the one I would never fear. The one I love. I thought perhaps he might be in pain and that it had him out of sorts, but he didn’t seem so earlier at all.”
“When was the last time he seemed . . . out of sorts?” Nicholas murmured.
&
nbsp; Sara fell silent. If she were to answer that, she would have to tell him of her exploration of the secret chambers. That would implicate Nell, and that she would not do.
“I . . . I can’t recall,” she hedged, “but nothing of that nature ever occurred before Mr. Mallory shot him.”
He lifted her out of the chair and took her in his arms. She couldn’t see his face, but when he spoke, there were tears in his voice.
“Sara, I must ask you to trust me,” he said. “Please believe me when I say that I mean no ill to that animal. He is as much a part of me as these hands that hold you.”
“But you said I shouldn’t become attached to Nero, that he might be leaving, and then you . . . you—”
“I know what I said,” he interrupted. “And, yes, he may have to leave us, but not in the way that you accuse. You must keep the door to your suite locked whether you are in it or not, until Alex is found and Nero is . . . seen to. You should have told me all this long ago. You are in danger . . . more danger than I knew,” he added absently.
“How can I be in danger when you are standing guard over me so relentlessly?” she snapped.
“Sara, Nero is part wolf,” he said. “Wolves are . . . unpredictable. You must obey me. I will lock you in before I see you come to harm.”
“I thought from the beginning that he might be!” she cried. “I’ve never seen a wolf, of course, but I have seen pictures of them in books in my father’s library. Now I can really see Nero’s beauty. He cuts a poor figure as a dog, I will allow, but as a wolf he is splendid.”
“And he could be . . . dangerous. Promise me you will do as I ask.”
“Nicholas . . .”
Pulling her into his arms, he cupped her face in his massive hand, and gazed into her eyes. He seemed to be memorizing every inch of her face, every pore in her skin, which was on fire under his scrutiny. The throbbing had begun inside, pounding like a heartbeat, moistening her sex. Why was he looking at her like that, with those misty eyes dilated in the moonlight? When he spoke, it didn’t break the spell; it heightened it to a more intimate plane, stoking the fire that had ignited a passion she didn’t even know existed. There was the real danger—in getting too close to that fire, in letting it mark her, burn her, spoil her, forever shackled to a hopeless love. Nevertheless, she let the flames engulf her, let them gobble her up.
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