open.
"Andrew!" she gasped. There was more light from his fireplace, allowing her to see the shadowed bed, and then a silhouette as he sat up.
"Michelle?" he wondered. Was this a dream? Wishful thinking?
In the next instant she was upon him, clinging to him, trembling violently.
"What is it? Did you have a nightmare?" He held her tightly, stroking her curls, rubbing her back through the thin fabric of her chemise. "I can feel your heart beating against my chest! Tell me what's wrong. You're safe now."
"C'est vrai, I know." It was true; she felt a hundred times better in the shelter of Sandhurst's strong embrace. She buried her face in the taut curve between his shoulder and neck, shivering in reaction. He continued to soothe her, kissing her brow and temple, speaking to her tenderly until Micheline relaxed enough to tell him what had happened.
"Someone put a tiny piece of paper in my sleeve while I was dancing with Thomas Wyatt. I barely noticed at the time; I'd forgotten all about it until I removed my gown and the note fell out. It said—it said—"
"You're all right," he reminded her. "You're with me now."
"It said that I must leave England, alone—or die!" Her voice dropped to a whisper on the last word.
"What?!" Sandhurst was incredulous. "Why didn't you bring it to me immediately?"
"I don't know. I thought you might be asleep, and it seemed so ludicrous and impossible. At first, I told myself that it was some sort of mistake... or bizarre joke... but I couldn't sleep, and then—just now, someone was scratching at my door!"
"Scratching!"
"To scare me, I suppose. It was a very tiny sound at first, but then it grew louder and louder till I was nearly terrified!"
"No doubt," Sandhurst said grimly. "Loose me a moment, fondling; I'll light a candle and have a look around."
Micheline nodded bravely and even managed a smile as he tucked the covers snugly around her. Her eyes followed him as he donned hose and a white shirt, then took a candle and went into her chamber. Barely a minute passed before hereappeared. After bolting the connecting door, he sat down beside her on the bed.
"Naturally whoever it was has gone." He held up a small square of parchment. "This is the note, I take it." He stared at it broodingly. "I can't make sense of this. Who would want to threaten you? And why?"
"I don't know!" Her voice broke on a sob. "There's only one person I can think of."
Andrew glanced over at her. "Iris? No, she's simply not capable of such a thing. Underneath her feline facade, she's really rather sweet and loving."
"I don't mean to cast aspersions on your former mistress," Micheline heard herself reply tartly, "but you don't know how it feels to be in love with you!"
His brows went up slightly. "Pardon?"
"I can appreciate Lady Dangerfield's agony, because I can imagine my own devastation if you were to suddenly tell me that you loved another woman and wanted to marry her instead. I might contemplate murder myself!"
"There's a tremendous difference between thought and deed, Michelle."
"Perhaps she hopes only to frighten me off."
"So you think Iris was scratching at your door tonight?" he countered in disbelief.
"Who else could it be?"
Sandhurst gave a harsh sigh. "I don't know."
Softly Micheline asked, "Will you let me stay here tonight? With you?"
"Of course you'll stay here. Tomorrow morning we leave for London, and until then I promise not to let you out of my sight—and this time I mean it! You can even hold my hand while I shave if you like."
He gave her a reassuring smile, but his eyes were on the menacing piece of paper he'd set on the table. Absently he drew his shirt over his head, then reached down to pull off his hose, unaware of the blush that was spreading across Micheline's cheeks.
Her gaze wandered helplessly down his long, tapering back and lingered on the hard curves of his buttocks. When Andrew stood to blow out the candle and place it on a chest, she caught a fleeting glimpse of his manhood in its nest of dark curls. At that instant he felt the heat of her gaze and forgot about the mysterious note.
When Sandhurst drew back the covers and climbed into bed beside her, Micheline was eager to put that frightening message out of her mind too. She snuggled against him, shivering, as if she couldn't get close enough.
"You're ice cold!" he exclaimed softly as her bare foot