Page 22 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“Come on, now. You won’t fall.”

“I know that,” she muttered. Was that a penknife in her hand?

“Then why are you still way up there, brandishing a knife of all things?”

“Because.” She tucked her nightdress around her knees and inched slowly down on her bum. “Get out of the way. In fact, get off the ladder.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t slip.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll do my best not to look up your skirts, but I’ve seen most of it already, you idiotic woman.”

“I am not idiotic,” she retorted. “I had a good reason for climbing onto the roof.” She took the penknife between her teeth and waved him away.

He went down a few steps. She turned her shapely arse in his direction, and he guided one of her bare feet onto a rung. Once she was safely on the ladder, he descended the rest of the way.

She reached the ground and removed the knife from between her teeth. “Thank you, Sir Julian.” She tried the kitchen door, which was locked. “If you would be so kind as to accompany me around to the front door, I would greatly appreciate it.”

I should have phrased that differently, thought Daisy. He might take it as an invitation. “Just until I can rouse Ned and let him know.” She picked her way slowly around the inn across refuse and uneven cobbles. Whoever he was, she didn’t think he would try to murder her while she was with Sir Julian. As fear dissipated, anger took its place. How dare someone try to kill her?

“Let him know what?” Sir Julian asked.

“That someone tried to get into my bedchamber.” She reached up to ring the bell, but Sir Julian forestalled her by opening the inn door.

“It shouldn’t be open. It’s kept locked at night!” she hissed.

The coffee room was lit only by a shaft of moonlight. Snores told her that a few smugglers had been left to sleep it off on the settles by the wall.

“Maybe one of the smugglers woke and left, and no one was awake to lock the door behind him,” Sir Julian said.

Yes, or maybe the intruder had given up on murdering her tonight and gone away.

“There was a light in your room when I first saw you on the roof,” Sir Julian said. “There still is. I happened to glance up before we reached the door.”

Her heart thumped. “Did you see movement?”

He shook his head. He took a candle from the mantelpiece and lit it at the banked fire.

“Then it may just be the lamp on my table.” She surely hoped so.

“We’ll go find out,” Sir Julian said. “No need to wake Ned yet.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need your help anymore.”

Sir Julian didn’t answer, merely going up the stairs without so much as a by-your-leave, and she didn’t argue. She didn’t want to be alone just yet. He turned down the corridor toward her bedchamber. The door to the linen room was ajar. He pushed it open and went in.

“Be careful!” she squeaked.

He made a dismissive noise. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The intruder, if there was one, is gone by now, unless it was one of last night’s drunkards. The one who was wearing a yellow cap, no doubt.”

“Walt Henson?” she scoffed. “No, he wouldn’t k—wouldn’t hurt a flea. He’s at home with his longsuffering wife.”

Julian turned from the linen room to hers and pushed the door open. The lamp on her bedside table still burned. With typical male insouciance, he raised the candle and checked the dark corners of the room. He even glanced under the bed. “There’s no one here.”

“Not any longer.” In spite of herself, Daisy shuddered. Whoever her intruder was, he had succeeded in picking the lock and raising the latch. “He must have left when he saw I wasn’t here.”

“You’re certain someone was trying to get in?” His skeptical lift of the brows infuriated her.

“In the first place, I’m not deaf. I heard him picking the lock. In the second place, the door was unlocked just now, which means he succeeded. In the third place— Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m absolutely sure.” She’d almost blurted it again, that someone was trying to kill her.

What was she going to do? Go home to Warren Hollow? She didn’t like it there anymore. The servants were respectful enough, but she didn’t belong.