Forever His(11)

When he spoke, he sounded a bit more sober and serious. “Do I frighten you, petite?” he asked with genuine surprise. “Why?”

“Why?” she echoed incredulously. Despite the fact that he had backed off—for the moment—she was so terrified of this naked stranger who had invaded her room and her bed that her head swam dizzily and her tongue seemed incapable of forming anything more than that one stunned syllable.

“Chérie, was I ... rough with you last night?” The words were reluctant and edged with a sharpness aimed at himself. “I was well into my cups at the feast, but I cannot believe I would ... Saints’ breath, I apologize, demoiselle, if I was less than gentle.” He stood up again. “Allow me to—”

“No!” she squealed. To her surprise, he stilled again.

He didn’t sit back down, but he didn’t make another move toward her. “I only intend,” he said softly, “to make up for whatever drunken behavior last night left you so fearful of me that you would injure yourself trying to get away.”

He stayed where he was. Incredibly, he seemed to be allowing her the next move.

Celine couldn’t begin to figure out what was going on. Nothing in her life had prepared her for such a bizarre encounter. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t care! I’m ... I’m getting up and I’m getting out of here. I’m going out that door, and if you try to stop me, I’ll—”

“I would never do aught to force a woman, chérie,” he assured her quietly. “Leave, if that is what you wish.”

Her mouth dry and her heart in her throat, Celine managed to get to her feet, slowly, painfully. She couldn’t move much farther than that. She hobbled one step and stood there, swaying unsteadily, teeth chattering, unable to run if her life depended on it—which it just might.

After a moment, his voice sounded again from the darkness.

“Do you wish me to carry you out?” he offered lightly.

Celine realized just how ridiculous her predicament was. As he was so subtly pointing out, if he intended to hurt her, he could do it in a second and there was nothing she could do to stop him. “No,” she insisted stiffly. “I’ll be fine on my own.” She took only one limping step, and even that made her inhale sharply with pain.

“Mayhap I could hold the door for you?”

His teasing tone made her laugh. She couldn’t help it. He had had ample opportunity for rape, kidnapping, murder, or anything in between by now. Instead, he was keeping his hands to himself and tossing out one-liners.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I’m standing here laughing with a naked stranger in my room.”

“The room is mine, chérie. As is every other in the chateau.”

He must be much more drunk than he sounded, Celine thought; he was having delusions of grandeur. She tried to calm down and think. He hadn’t made any threatening moves toward her. Yet. Perhaps there was some rational explanation for all this. She limped two steps and reached for the lamp on her dresser.

The lamp wasn’t there.

Neither was the dresser.

Her fear returned in a rush. “What is going on?” she asked in a small voice.

“Alas, I am no more certain than you, chérie. I do not remember taking you to bed last night.” He yawned and stretched and sat back down on the mattress. “Though I cannot say I regret it. Noisy though you may be, you felt most pleasing curled beside me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that did an odd little dance down Celine’s back and made her suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the warm spot on her shoulder where he had kissed her.

“You did not take me to bed!” she corrected.

“Truly, ma petite? It was you who seduced me, then?”

“No! I—”

“Come seduce me again.” He fell back on the pillows.

“Absolutely not!” Celine groped her way along the wall, trying to feel her way to the door. “Look, whoever you are, it sounds like you had too much to drink at the party. Maybe there was a power failure or something and you wandered into the wrong room by mistake.”

A power failure. That made sense. It would explain why there wasn’t a speck of light. Or heat. The air was so cold, it gave her goose bumps and stung her throat every time she inhaled. The furnace must have gone out.

He sighed and yawned again. “As I told you before, demoiselle, the chamber is mine.”

It took Celine a moment to realize that the wall felt strange: her hand encountered nothing but cold, clammy, bare stone. The paintings and tapestries that had hung in her room were missing. She tried to find the light switch. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be, either.