“I came across the kiln. The openings—”
“Keyholes, they’re called.”
“Keyholes,” she repeated. “When I saw that they were bricked up, I started to go back, but then I noticed that one of the access ways had been left open. I had never seen the inside of a kiln. I was curious.”
“Madam, have you ever heard the adage,curiosity killed the cat?”
She envisioned herself in the small chamber again, trapped. Trapped, like before.
It shouldn’t have impacted her so. If she hadn’t reacted, if she’d thought it through, she’d have reasoned that someone would eventually come looking for her.
“Annabelle, I…”
She glanced at him, taken aback by the concern in his voice.
He stared at her, thick brows beetled. “I misjudged. You are not up to talking about this.”
She considered herself from his vantage point. Realized she’d begun scrubbing her palms over her skirts, displaying her nerves, again. She knew better. She’d had years of training.
Whimpering is unattractive in the extreme, and quite off-putting. No one wishes to be subject to another’s sniveling. Look at Gaston. Do you ever see him displaying such feebleness of character?
“I am perfectly fine,” she answered, fisting her hands at her sides. “Besides, I have questions of my own.”
He did not look entirely convinced, but he moved from the mantel to take up the adjacent armchair to hers. “Very well. When you were inside, did you notice anything? Hear anyone? What, precisely, do you recall?”
Her heart fluttered in her chest, remembering her passage through the shadowed, dusty interior. “I did have an odd sense of someone watching me.”
He leaned forward slightly. “And then?”
“And then, I reached the kiln pot chambers. I noted several piles of what I took to be rubbish, abandoned tools, and the like.” She drew a sharp breath as a memory surfaced. “I saw something shiny.”
He appeared nonplussed.
“On the ground, behind the kiln pot. Something glinted in the sunlight. I ducked inside to investigate.”
“And? What was it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Alas, no. Enlighten me.”
“It was a diamond.”
His brows shot upward. “You have this stone?”
“Well…no. I forgot about it the moment the walls started to topple. But now I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“A ring of jewel thieves has taken up residence on Holy Island and uses the kilns as their home base. They must’ve been there when I entered, and decided to teach me a lesson to dissuade me from disturbing their lair in future. Or perhaps they merely did not want me to be able to identify them.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “May I suggest you’ve been reading too many crime novels like the one that inspired you to make this foolish quest?”
As his words hit much too close to home, she scowled at him. “Fine. No earthquake, no jewel thieves. Meanwhile, I’ve yet to hear you come up with one viable reason for what happened to me.”
He inclined his head in reluctant acknowledgment. “While I’ve yet to determine the why of it, I have no intention of allowing a repeat of the event. Madam, you will stay away from the kilns for the remainder of your time here.”
She would venture back inside the kiln only under threat of death. Nevertheless, his heavy-handed approach grated. Oddly, it also steadied her, whereas glimpsing his tender side…didn’t.
