Holding the candle aloft, she examined the room again, this time with a purpose.
Two small bowls and a large vase sat on the table. That would have to do. Turning her back to the bed, she hurried over and set her candle on the table to pick up the vase. One sniff told her this was more decanter than flower holder. Scotch, she’d guess from the smell.
No matter. It was made of some sort of pottery and heavy enough that it should serve just fine as her new weapon.
She reached out to retrieve her candle and her hand froze as an impression of movement caught her eye. There, on the wall directly ahead of her, a misshapen blob flickered and danced. Fascinated, she stared for an instant, before her brain registered the form of shadow, a figure caught between her and the glow of the fireplace.
Arm raised, she stepped backward from the table and directly into a wall of hard flesh.
A wall with arms of steel that banded around her, one hand at her throat and the other covering her mouth before her first squeak had a chance to meet the night.
Panic speared through her chest and she swung the decanter up and over her head, wildly hoping to make contact with something. Faster than she could have imagined possible, the hand left her throat. The decanter flew from her fingers and shattered on the stone floor as her attacker deflected the blow by grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm up behind her.
“Stop it right now,” a male voice ordered. “Behave yerself.”
“Me, behave?” She sputtered from behind his hand even as he pulled his fingers away from her mouth. “I’m not the one who’s attacking some innocent woman.”
“Innocent women do not skulk about strange men’s bedchambers. Which, by the way, would be better accomplished under cover of darkness, no by announcing yer presence with yer candle held high.”
He had let go of her arm as he’d spoken and she whirled to face him, her fear quickly taking a backseat to a building anger.
“I wasn’t . . .”
Though he no longer touched her, he hadn’t backed away. A rather disconcerting fact she hadn’t considered until she faced a wide expanse of naked chest.
“Um . . . skulking.” She fumbled for what it was she’d intended to say. Probably best her mouth had gone dry before she could get herself really wound up for a tongue-lashing. A guy built like that could easily do some real damage if that was what he intended. “I wasn’t skulking.”
Since he didn’t seem inclined to move away, she took a single backward step, forcing her eyes up to meet his as she did so. Recognition hit her hard, tightening her chest and sending an unpleasant flutter to her stomach. She stared into the face from her dreams, the face of the man who’d held her in his arms.
“In that case, my lady, I can only assume you had another reason for entering my bedchamber. It’s only fair to warn you that had I wanted you in my bed, I would have placed you there myself rather than depositing you in yer own chamber.”
“Had you wanted me in . . .” Any lingering shock fled in the face of his egotistical implication and once again she found herself reduced to a sputter. What a total arrogant prick! “Whatever you’re thinking I’m doing in here, you better just think again. I was simply trying to find out where the hell I am and how I got here.”
“You are at Castle MacGahan. As to how you got here, we found you in the woods and brought you here.”
“In the woods. Of course you did.” That made absolutely no sense. “There are no woods anywhere around Comfort.” There weren’t any castles either.
Though there had certainly been woods in the dream.
An unwelcome doubt crept under her bravado, rapidly replacing her anger. That was bad. Very bad. Anger kept the fear at bay. Doubt invited it in like an honored guest.
Putting distance between herself and this man suddenly seemed an excellent idea. She turned her back on him, taking a step toward the table, slowly, hoping she radiated an air of casual confidence. She kept going, one foot after the other, her eyes fixed on the opposite side of the table, wondering at what instant he might reach out to stop her.
“Perhaps you should consider returning to your own chamber now, my lady.”
Perhaps not. Perhaps now she’d get the answers she wanted. With a good six feet and a strong table separating them, she turned to face him again, instantly wishing she hadn’t.
It wasn’t just a naked chest facing her this time. It was the whole of him.
She jerked her head down, fastening her gaze on the tabletop. “You should probably be putting some clothes on.”
Whoever he was, he definitely didn’t have any modesty issues. Not that he had anything to be modest about.Damn.
“What I should be, my lady, is in bed. Asleep. No standing about in the middle of the night, haggling with some mystery woman who has no name.”
The uncomfortable heat that had started in her cheeks spread over her entire face and radiated down her neck.
“I have a name. It’s Dani.” She kept her eyes focused on the table, memorizing the pattern of the grain in the wood. “Danielle Dearmon. Not that you’ve exactly been all anxious to tell me who you are, either.”
