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Something about the stones stuck with her, though when she pivoted around in a circle there was nothing offensive anywhere. The paintings were lovely landscapes. The room was done in pale yellows and sweet blues. The walls were stone, yes, and so even though it was not cold outside, Delaney was grateful for the thick rug beneath her feet. She had the feeling it would be much colder in here without it. There were various chairs and fancy little couches and end tables scattered about, all of them loosely grouped in the direction of a big fireplace that looked far too clean to have ever been used.
Was she supposed to sit down? Was this a cell of some kind? Should she go over and test the door to see if she was locked in? Or perhaps gauge if she might need to climb out a window?
Not that she felt as moved toward her escape as she should. She pressed a hand against her heart, but she already knew it was still drumming along, telling her truths she would have much preferred to ignore.
She was still debating what she should do when the door flew open again. Another group of servants streamed in, this time bearing platters of food and a rolling trolley.
And behind them came Cayetano.
Suddenly, it was as if that fire between them was lit in the grate. The room was too hot. Too close. She worried she was suffocating.
Delaney was still where he’d left her, there in the center of the room. And she discovered, as his gaze punched into her, that she was unable to move. She watched, in a kind of panic, as the servants laid out all the dishes they’d brought with them on the largest of the small tables, and then, one by one, disappeared back out into the hall.
Leaving her alone with this man.
She knew her reaction didn’t make sense. She’d been alone with him now for hours and hours. She’d willingly gotten into that car in Kansas. She’d boarded that plane. She’d let him carry her off to this fortress and had walked into the stone enclosure on her own two feet. She’d assessed potential escape routes in theory, though she hadn’t tried any out.
Yet it only occurred to her now to question what on earth she wasdoing.
“You look like a terrified rabbit,” Cayetano informed her, standing some distance away.
Looking almost idle.
A kind of alarm began to beat in her then, for this man was many things, but she was certain thatidlewasn’t one of them.
“Thank you,” she squeaked out. She cleared her throat, furious with herself for betraying her internal struggle. “That’s not at all condescending.”
“It is an accurate description, nothing more.”
“What do you intend to do with me?” Delaney demanded, the way she should have before. Long before they landed. Maybe before she’d gotten in his car. “Is this supposed to be a cell? Am I to be locked up here until you wear me down and I agree to marry you just so I can get a glimpse of the sky?”
She got considerably more melodramatic as she spoke, which was shocking, given how little she’d ever given herself over to melodrama before. But all he did was lift one of his dark brows and she forgot to be embarrassed. This wasn’t the Midwest. And extraordinary circumstances required unusual responses.
“Surely you have seen the row of windows behind you.” She had, of course. She could feel the warm caress of the sunlight even now. Clearly she would have to work on her melodrama if she wanted it to be effective. Assumingeffectivenesswas ever the point of it. “You need only step out on your balcony and look up, Delaney. The sky is where it always is.”
“I think that qualifies as avoiding the question,” she said primly.
“Why didn’t I think of a cell?” he mused, as if to himself. “I believe the castle we stand in is possessed of a dungeon, now that you mention it. I’m sure something could be arranged.”
Delaney stood a little straighter. “So you do intend to lock me up until I do what you want?”
He thrust his hands into his pockets, which somehow made the suit he wore look better. Less perfect, yet more rampantly masculine. And it made him look more idle and more dangerous, all at once.
Surely that shouldn’t have been possible.
But she was more concerned with how nonchalant his expression was. “Allow me to assure you, little one, that it is unnecessary for me to lock anyone up.”
“Letmeassureyouthat whatever you think that means, it’s not exactly comforting on this end,” she shot back at him. “It’s also not ano.”
“Delaney. Please.” He did something with his chin that somehow swept over the small feast laid out on the long, low table between them. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Why would you think that?” she demanded, as if he’d mounted an attack.
“Because I am hungry.” His mouth stayed in that straight line, but still, she had the unshakable conviction that he was laughing. Just somewhere she couldn’t see. “A not uncommon occurrence after I travel.”
She swallowed, hard, not understanding why she felt so...fragile. Though that wasn’t quite the right word.
Upended, maybe. Caught out.
