The Last Eligible Bachelor - Ashtyn Newbold Page 0,68
just placed in my mind. “Why must you take such pleasure in my discomfort?”
“It seems it is you who takes pleasure in my discomfort, wishing my shirt to be set on fire.” He laughed under his breath. “That would not be comfortable in the slightest.”
My smile escaped its confines before I could stop it, and I shook my head. “You are ridiculous. Do you not recognize the danger in what we are doing?”
He leaned closer, both eyebrows raised. “It was not dangerous until you threatened me.”
There was a different sort of danger that he seemed unaware of. The danger that was the flame that flickered in my chest, urging my heart to feel things it certainly was not allowed to feel. It was a different kind of fire—the sort that could not be stamped out or smothered or drowned. It was forbidden and disobedient, spreading and catching in my chest with each playful smile Mr. Hill cast in my direction.
“It has been dangerous all along.”
His eyes met mine with a question, but I refused to answer, pressing my lips together. What exactly had I meant by that? The words had slipped out, unbidden. In truth, I had been in danger since the moment I walked into Winslow House. But my heart had been more in danger than anything of late. I banished my thoughts. Acknowledging it did not make the matter any better.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, craning my neck toward the staircase. What had sounded like footfalls had been clear just a moment before. My heart thudded too loudly to hear it again.
Mr. Hill chuckled, adding to the excess noise.
Another sound came from down the hall, then another, each growing louder and more frequent, as if someone were walking toward us.
But Mr. Hill didn’t seem to hear any of it. “If you are going to start teasing me, be unique at the very least.”
Panic seized my limbs, and I reached for his arm, tugging him toward the drawing room door. My own strength surprised me, and he stumbled, his feet making a loud thud against the marble floor.
I pulled the door open and thankfully didn’t have to grab him again. He followed me inside, and I reached around him to close the door.
“What the devil—”
“Hush!” I held a finger to my lips, taking a step back when I realized how closely I stood to him. He finally obeyed, his eyes rounding slightly as he heard what I had—the footfalls coming even closer from outside the door.
“Drat,” I whispered under my breath. “Drat, drat, drat.” I searched the room for a place to hide, my mind racing. Whoever it was in the hallway seemed to be heading in our direction. Dread sank through my stomach, and my legs shook.
Mr. Hill sprung into action, taking me by the wrist and pulling me toward the red sofa, hardly recognizable in the darkness. He blew out his candle first, then mine, squatting down in the space between the window and the back of the sofa. I followed suit, the drapes brushing against my back as I settled on the ground beside Mr. Hill. He reached around me, taking hold of the drapes to stop the swaying I had caused. I pulled at my skirts, making sure they were not showing on the other side of the sofa, and to my dismay, he looped his arm around my waist, tucking me in closer against him.
I ignored the effect his touch had on me, directing my focus back to the anxiety I felt. I waited, holding my breath as the footsteps grew closer and the door unlatched. The hinges gave a slight creak, and I ducked, even though I knew my head wasn’t showing above the sofa. Mr. Hill did the same, his eyes just inches from my own. Was he smiling? I checked the curve of his lips, my suspicions confirmed. What on earth was he smiling about? His exhale rustled my hair, and I pretended not to notice the thrill it sent over my skin. There were far more pressing matters at hand, like the two quiet voices that carried through the room.
“I cannot sleep knowing it is still missing.” It was Mrs. Ollerton, the distressed tone less masked than it had been that evening. Her skirts rustled as she walked, the sound growing closer. “Look. It has been gone since I returned home this afternoon. Who do you suppose might have taken it?”