“Pretty bad.”
“I would be worried if they weren’t.”
“Murder.”
“Uninspired, but expected.”
“That you’re a harbinger of droughts and famine.”
“An old favorite.”
“You make everyone’s eggs rot and spoil.”
“Interesting, that’s a new one.”
“Pyromania—”
He blows out a puff of air. “Alwaysthe library with these people.”
“They say you burned it down.”
The warm hazel shifts to a dark moss in the dim hallway. But even his glare is bizarrely comforting. It’s still familiar, tangible. “Do you believe them, Ms. Frost?”
“Doyou?” Should I be worried he isn’t denying the accusations, or that he’s accepting blame for crimes he knows he didn’t commit? “If they’re hung up on the library, why not open yours to the public? Or donate some of the money you definitely have to building a new one.”
“You place entirely too much faith in people, Ms. Frost.” He moves to pass me on the other side but I cut him off again.
“And you place too little faith in them,sir.” I square my shoulders as best I can. This speech would be a lot more effective if I were clothed. “There’s a chance I might not find your cure. Not when half the house is off-limits. The books—”
“For good reason, which is why I’ve warned you not to wander—”
“You promised me resources!”
“So work with the resources I’ve given you, and do not ask about the books again,” he snaps, his harsh tone echoing. “Now move out of my way, Ms. Frost, and return to your room.”
The third time he moves around me, I jump directly into his path.
At his incensed look, a deliciously feral delight curls in my gut. “Do not,” he says through gritted teeth, “make me pick you up again.”
I ignore the threat as a new thought occurs to me. “Were you awake when I knocked on your door earlier?” He doesn’t reply, which is all the reply I need. This ridiculous man. “Why didn’t you answer?”
His dark brows pull together. “Because you came to my bedroom. At midnight. It would not have been appropriate for me to answer.”
I try not to blush but probably fail. “What in the world did you think I came for?”
“I—whydidyou come to my bedroom?”
“To ask about the books in the library!” Ridiculous,ridiculousman.
I force myself to take a breath, to really taste the anger on my tongue like I’m giving a sharp wine a second chance. His instinct is to ice me out, not burn down his obstacles. There’s no way he’s causing these illusions of heat by himself, not intentionally. This man’s a lot of things, but he’s not emotional.
The Manor, on the other hand… It feels like the house is losing control, more and more each day, as long as its Warlock remains sick. As his illness grows worse, so does the instability of his magic and anything connected to it.
The Warlock’s jaw unclenches. “We’ll finish this discussion at a more civilized hour. You’re naked.”
Good Lord. “Please, you’re too old to be bashful and too young to be this serious.”
A draft whips through the hall and I shiver. He leans forward and his immediate closeness, the ice in his eyes, is kindling for my gooseflesh.
