Read Online A Matter of Grave Concern by Brenda Novak - Free Book Online

before,” he said. “But I never realized you would actually be so foolhardy as to try to escape when your chances were so slim.” And he was used to being obeyed . . .
    While searching for a possible weapon, her eyes landed on the water pitcher that sat atop a marble-topped washstand. She dumped what remained of its contents into the bowl and clasped it to her bosom. But Wilder didn’t advance on her as expected. He leaned against the door, closed his eyes and breathed a sigh that sounded very much like relief.
    He stayed where he was until the house fell quiet. Then he seemed to remember she was in the room.
    “Shall we get some sleep?” he asked, removing his shirt. “I don’t think this has been a particularly good night for either of us.”
    Abigail didn’t move. If he was trying to take her off her guard, it wouldn’t work. She would defend herself, or she would die trying. “I won’t sleep with you. I won’t sleep anywhere near you.”
    Large drops of water splashed onto the table as Wilder buried his head in the bowl and washed his hair and naked torso. Without a fire or a lamp, she could see him only in outline. But his straight back and wide shoulders were impressive all the same. Abigail doubted she had ever met a man so comfortable in his own skin, so well made.
    Too bad his character wasn’t as flawless.
    “I’m not going to hurt you, Miss Hale—Abigail,” he said, toweling off. “At least not seriously.”
    Not seriously ? He didn’t consider forcing a woman to be a serious offense?
    “You won’t touch me,” she gritted out.
    “Actually, I have to touch you, but I will be as gentle as possible. Come here.” He beckoned to her as though he expected her to place the pitcher meekly on the table and accept his hand.
    “You are mad if you think I will do anything you say.”
    He planted his fists on his hips. “Either you will cooperate, or you will spend a long, miserable night on the floor. It’s that simple.”
    “And what of your promise to help me escape?”
    “You lost that promise when you crept downstairs and got yourself caught. So don’t blame me for your predicament.”
    “Don’t blame you? Maybe it was someone else who chased me down and hauled me back!”
    “Emmett had you dead to rights. You wouldn’t have gotten far.”
    She might have slipped past him.
    Changing tactics, Abigail permitted a note of desperation to leak into her voice. It was an approach that often worked well with her father. “Let me go.”
    As Wilder studied her, Abigail refused to let her gaze drift any lower than his chin. She found his bare chest rather . . . disconcerting .
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said with a frown.
    “Is there no speck of decency in your black heart?”
    “If there is, you wouldn’t be the first person unable to find it.” He shrugged. “I can’t let you go. You wouldn’t be home a day before your conscience got the better of you and you ran straight to the authorities. It’s amazing how one’s perspective changes when one is safe.”
    “If you won’t let me go, what do you plan to do with me . . . other than tonight, I mean?” After what he had said to Big Jack, she knew perfectly well what he had planned for tonight and certainly didn’t want to hear it reiterated.
    “I plan on keeping you with me until it’s safe to let you go. That’s all.”
    As simple as his answer was, it told her nothing. Safe? How could she believe that? He could have let her escape. That would have kept her safe. But he didn’t.
    Abigail’s eyes flicked to the door. She longed to run again—she had come so close—but the key to the lock was buried in Wilder’s trousers, her hopes of success buried with it.
    Unless the window afforded some small opportunity . . .
    While she tried to ascertain her options, her captor cleaned his teeth, rinsed with the water from a cup on the same table as the bowl, ransacked a trunk full of clothes and came up with a shirt