for the servants.
“The east wing,” she replied, her countenance strained. “Third on the left.”
The hallway was blessedly dim as Chapel strode down it; the only windows were at the far end. Thankfully Prudence seemed too distressed to realize that he was walking faster than he should, or that he carried her as though she weighed no more than a kitten.
Luckily, Rosecourt, while a large estate, was nowhere as monstrous as some aristocratic houses, and the trip to the east wing was blessedly short. Chapel kept as close to the wall as possible to avoid the daylight filtering from the hall. It wasn’t a bright day, but still he felt the heat on his face and hands that the clothed parts of him were spared.
The east wing was a copy of the west, and just as blessedly dim. Almost instantly his skin began to cool, stinging ever so slightly.
Why hadn’t he rung for help from his own room? Why was he playing the hero and risking discovery this way? He was asking for trouble.
“Thank you.” Pru’s eyes were thickly lashedslits as she gazed up at him. “It cannot be comfortable for you to be in the light.”
What? Chapel’s heart seized as though in a vise. How did she…? Oh, of course. Molyneux had told her their lie.
“It is nothing.” One more lie surely wouldn’t hurt at this point, especially when it spared her guilt.
He stopped at the third door on the left side of the corridor, balancing Pru’s weight with one arm as he reached for the handle.
Her eyes flew open. “Wait!”
Chapel froze. “What?”
Instead of pointing out that he was a freak of nature, she regarded him with a gaze that was equal parts fear and pain. “You cannot go in there.”
He managed a smile. “I assure you, your virtue is safe with me, Miss Ryland.”
Her lips curved slightly as he repeated her words from the night before. “That was not my concern, Mr. Chapel. My curtains are open. I would not have you suffer on my account.”
Him suffer? She was practically gasping with pain and she was worried about him? God save him from this woman whose goodness dug at him like a needle beneath the skin.
“Put me down,” Pru commanded softly. “I can make it to my bed on my own.”
He scowled at her, opening the door as he did so. “Do not be ridiculous.”
She struggled against him, a sparrow against a lion. “Chapel, please!”
It was the desperate way she said his name that stopped him. This wasn’t just about his safety, this was about her needing—for some reason only she knew—to go into that room by herself, to stand on her own feet and defy her pain.
Why? What was wrong with her? This was no mere fall. Something had brought this on, and whatever it was angered her.
Well, he could relate to that. Slowly, carefully, he lowered her to her feet, keeping his hands on her shoulders until he was certain she could support herself. She was hunched but steady when he let her go.
“Do you need me to send for someone?” As much as he wanted to ask what afflicted her, he couldn’t. It was none of his business, and probably not something she wanted to share.
And damn it, he didn’t want to know. He already was beginning to realize that this incident might be related to the search for the Grail. “Desperate”—that was how she had described her quest. He didn’t want to know what made her so desperate, because whatever it was, it was undoubtedly something he could not fix.
And he knew how desperation felt.
“I will be fine from here. Thank you.” Her gaze was vulnerable as it touched his.
He merely nodded, watching as she slowly, painfully turned her back on him and pushed the heavy oak door open. Heat struck him as the full blast of the day raged against his presence in its domain. He recoiled as though shoved, stumbling back into the shadows as Pru, oblivious to himnow that she was in her sanctuary, closed the door.
And then he was alone. Slowly, he straightened and began the journey back to his own room,
“The east wing,” she replied, her countenance strained. “Third on the left.”
The hallway was blessedly dim as Chapel strode down it; the only windows were at the far end. Thankfully Prudence seemed too distressed to realize that he was walking faster than he should, or that he carried her as though she weighed no more than a kitten.
Luckily, Rosecourt, while a large estate, was nowhere as monstrous as some aristocratic houses, and the trip to the east wing was blessedly short. Chapel kept as close to the wall as possible to avoid the daylight filtering from the hall. It wasn’t a bright day, but still he felt the heat on his face and hands that the clothed parts of him were spared.
The east wing was a copy of the west, and just as blessedly dim. Almost instantly his skin began to cool, stinging ever so slightly.
Why hadn’t he rung for help from his own room? Why was he playing the hero and risking discovery this way? He was asking for trouble.
“Thank you.” Pru’s eyes were thickly lashedslits as she gazed up at him. “It cannot be comfortable for you to be in the light.”
What? Chapel’s heart seized as though in a vise. How did she…? Oh, of course. Molyneux had told her their lie.
“It is nothing.” One more lie surely wouldn’t hurt at this point, especially when it spared her guilt.
He stopped at the third door on the left side of the corridor, balancing Pru’s weight with one arm as he reached for the handle.
Her eyes flew open. “Wait!”
Chapel froze. “What?”
Instead of pointing out that he was a freak of nature, she regarded him with a gaze that was equal parts fear and pain. “You cannot go in there.”
He managed a smile. “I assure you, your virtue is safe with me, Miss Ryland.”
Her lips curved slightly as he repeated her words from the night before. “That was not my concern, Mr. Chapel. My curtains are open. I would not have you suffer on my account.”
Him suffer? She was practically gasping with pain and she was worried about him? God save him from this woman whose goodness dug at him like a needle beneath the skin.
“Put me down,” Pru commanded softly. “I can make it to my bed on my own.”
He scowled at her, opening the door as he did so. “Do not be ridiculous.”
She struggled against him, a sparrow against a lion. “Chapel, please!”
It was the desperate way she said his name that stopped him. This wasn’t just about his safety, this was about her needing—for some reason only she knew—to go into that room by herself, to stand on her own feet and defy her pain.
Why? What was wrong with her? This was no mere fall. Something had brought this on, and whatever it was angered her.
Well, he could relate to that. Slowly, carefully, he lowered her to her feet, keeping his hands on her shoulders until he was certain she could support herself. She was hunched but steady when he let her go.
“Do you need me to send for someone?” As much as he wanted to ask what afflicted her, he couldn’t. It was none of his business, and probably not something she wanted to share.
And damn it, he didn’t want to know. He already was beginning to realize that this incident might be related to the search for the Grail. “Desperate”—that was how she had described her quest. He didn’t want to know what made her so desperate, because whatever it was, it was undoubtedly something he could not fix.
And he knew how desperation felt.
“I will be fine from here. Thank you.” Her gaze was vulnerable as it touched his.
He merely nodded, watching as she slowly, painfully turned her back on him and pushed the heavy oak door open. Heat struck him as the full blast of the day raged against his presence in its domain. He recoiled as though shoved, stumbling back into the shadows as Pru, oblivious to himnow that she was in her sanctuary, closed the door.
And then he was alone. Slowly, he straightened and began the journey back to his own room,
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