The Royal Conquest(19)
He kept his steps light and soundless, while she clambered up the stairs with enough noise to wake the dead. It took him a while to realize she was muttering beneath her breath.
He waited for her to realize he was a mere six steps above her.
“Oh!” She dropped the candelabrum, and darkness enclosed them. There was a flurry of sounds as she rapidly descended the stairs, running from him.
To her credit she had not screamed. But was she not afraid of tripping?
He grabbed the banister and followed. “My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.”
Her footsteps halted. “Mik…Mr. Konstantinovich?”
“I thought we had dispensed with formalities, Payton.”
A whisper of sound rode the air, and he could feel that she moved closer. Common sense insisted he retreat, but he stood rooted, waiting for her to re-climb the steps.
“You made me drop my light.” Her tone rang with accusation.
“I had not thought you would be so easily frightened.”
She snorted, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Had he ever heard a lady snort? Surely such a sound must be in his realm of experience. Yet the only ones he could remember were sweet giggles, simpers, and lustful moans.
“I thought you were…”
Her voice petered, and he frowned. Was she partaking in a tryst? As far as he knew no other guest resided in this section of the house.
His gut clenched in denial. “Who did you think I was?” His tone was too harsh. The quick emotions she roused were unsettling. He raked his fingers through his hair and inhaled. “Forgive my tone; I have no right to make demands.”
A light laugh came from her, and he thought he detected nervousness, or was it embarrassment? She muttered something too low for him to decipher.
“What?”
A heavy sigh. “I thought you could have been the ghost I was writing about earlier.”
A ghost? “I see.” Except he did not see. “Would you care to inform me why you were skulking around this side of the house?”
A low feminine growl of affront resounded. “Must I redirect the question so we can assess who was really skulking?”
He was beginning to realize she detested the word “skulk.” “My chamber is located at the fifth door on the landing.”
“Oh!”
Why had he given her the precise location?
“I thought this side of the manor was vacant.”
Her unique scent of berries wafted even closer, and he could just about make out the white of her robe. Her heat brushed against him, and he froze. Too close. Yet he did not step back.
“I am writing a story about a few children hunting a ghost in a place similar to Sherring Cross, so I waited until the house quieted before I decided to conduct some research in the wing I thought empty. I never expected to find you…skulking.”
There was no disguising the amusement in her tone, and he finally allowed himself a smile. “Research?” he prompted, beyond curious.
“Yes, I wanted a greater feel of the fright the children would experience. Seeing you standing on the stairs like Barnabas gave me a great appreciation.”
“Barnabas?”
“The ghost.” Laughter lurked in her tone.
Of course. He wanted to see her so badly it was an ache. Was her hair unbound? Pinned in a loose knot? Were her eyes glittering with awareness or apprehension? “Would you like to continue?”
“Touring the west wing?” Surprise tinged her voice.
“Yes.”
A sharp inhalation. “It would be shamelessly inappropriate for me to agree.”
He grunted.
Then silence.
Shuffling sounds crept into the still of the night. “What are you doing?”
“I am looking for the candelabrum. I would hate for you to trip over it and break your neck.”
He smiled. “Leave it; I will locate it in the morning. Do you wish to continue on the tour?”
Mikhail swore he could feel her thinking.
“It would take too much to return to my chamber for a wick,” she finally answered.
“I would be your guide. I am familiar with this wing…intimately.” What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he not pushing her away?
She sighed, and it caressed against his skin. Suddenly he wanted her to touch him, if only to see if he would feel revulsion. “Payton?”
“I…I am tempted, but I do not think it is wise.”
He was damn glad one of them was capable of sound reasoning.
“But I would appreciate your company on the return journey.”
Tension eased from his shoulders. “Then you shall have it.”
“Thank you.”
Then unexpectedly she reached out and grasped his arm. Dread rolled over him like a dark tide. The burn of it was so cold, his teeth almost chattered. Though he did not break out in a cold sweat, nor had nausea churned in his gut, Mikhail snatched his arm away, and she stumbled. He caught her at the hips, and her gasp traveled through him at their too-close embrace.