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She was pulled from her exhaustive reverie when the knock came again, and she realized it was coming from her door. She pulled it open, however, and found that no one was there. A quick step into the hall revealed that no one was anywhere near her door.
The knocking came again, and she startled, shivers running down her neck. The knock had come from within her room. Easing her door closed, Giulia slid the bolt into place and waited, her heart slamming into her breastbone and her breath coming in short, quick spurts.
It came again and she followed the muffled knocking to the far wall, running her hand along the tapestry. Silence reigned, and Giulia held her breath, hoping the silence remained.
She was not the least bit surprised, however, when the knocking sounded one more time directly behind the tapestry.
Easing it away from the wall, she felt her hand along the cool stone and found the break that signified the possibility of a doorway. Her hand hovered over the potential doorway before hitting it in response. Silence engulfed her as she waited; she could only hope she was communicating with Nick.
She heard the clicking and knew that whoever was on the other side of the secret doorway was turning the mechanism that would unlatch the false wall and open it enough that they could slide it aside. Fear prickled the back of her neck when she considered the possibility of her covert visitor being Lily Cattaneo.
The click reverberated in the quiet room and Giulia held her breath. She wanted to move away but found herself paralyzed in place as she watched the wall slowly move aside. The candlelight coming from the secret passageway illuminated the hand that was pushing the door aside and she let out a breath of relief when she recognized it.
“Good heavens, Nick. You frightened me!”
His head popped through the space and he cocked an eyebrow. “Whatever did I do to frighten you?”
“You know,” she said as she pushed the tapestry aside and let him into her room. “All of this talk about attackers and staying within the castle walls, and then I receive a late-night visitor through a secret passageway.”
His mouth tilted into an amused smile, his eyes glittering from the firelight. In shirtsleeves and breeches, his hair tousled and the shadow of a beard grazing his jaw, he looked handsome and relaxed. “Your life sounds like a gothic novel.”
“Far too much like a gothic novel, to be sure.”
Nick leaned against the wall with one hand propped behind his back, the other holding a candle. A grin on his face was evidence of his amusement.
“May I ask what you are doing here?”
“I brought the journal.” He pulled it out from behind his back and reached forward to give it to her.
She stepped away instinctively. “I told you I would get it from you tomorrow.”
“Yes, you did say that.” He moved to set it on the writing desk and turned to face her again, compassion darkening his eyes. “And you were a little too anxious, I might add. What is causing you such distress, Jules?”
So she hadn’t fooled him after all. “What gives you reason to believe I am in distress?” she asked, her voice strained.
He gestured to the letters on the writing desk. “You are reading your mother’s letters? And now you want your father’s journal?” He looked from the desk to Giulia, his brows hitched together in confusion. “What are you not telling me?”
Giulia froze.
His eyes narrowed, piercing through her and pinning her against the wall. She tried to think of a way out but nothing believable presented itself. She scrambled for something to say but could see in his gaze that he sensed her struggle. She had never felt so vulnerable and exposed before, and her feelings conflicted with the desire to pour everything out and into Nick’s listening ears. She craved the release that would come from telling him everything, but no matter how much she wanted to, she could not get her mouth to open.
Giulia stared at the man, watching herself watch him as if she stood in the distance and could observe the scene play out before her. She recognized the change that came over his face when he realized she wasn’t going to speak. She yearned to run into his arms, to sob and explain exactly who was behind the gunshot that had frightened her horse. She pleaded with herself to open her mouth and speak, but nothing would come.
Nick shook his head and turned to go. She reached a hand out to his retreating back but said nothing, and he did not turn around to see her gesture. She felt so small, so defeated, and dropped her hand. Nick lifted the tapestry that hid the doorway into the secret passageway and paused. He turned his head slightly and spoke. “If you decide to trust me, you know where to find me.”
And then he was gone.
