Chapter Nine
Alec stood just behind the screen, waiting for the lass.
He felt her trepidation, before she circled around.
Fear surged through her when she saw him.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, pressing his hand across her lips just in time to smother her scream.
He prepared his heart and mind for the onslaught of images and memories that would be revealed to him when he touched her ...
but he saw nothing, not even the old woman whom he had glimpsed when he had grabbed her arm earlier in the hallway.
Stunned, he dropped his hand. He could still feel her emotions — fear at the moment, and he could hear her pounding heart.
Still, he had touched her and saw nothing, no window into her soul.
But then the vision of her standing on the bridge, her wide dark eyes brimming with tears flashed in his mind, and once more he heard his name on her lips.
Whether she knew it or not, her soul was reaching out to him.
Why, he could not say. He had not even learned her name.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Joanie’s heart raced as she considered his question. His voice was not what she had expected. It was deep but flat, as emotionless as his eyes.
“No one,” she said, backing away from him and turning up the stairs. He followed behind, his long strides easily overtaking hers.
He stepped around her to stand in front of her, but to her relief he did not grab her again. He did, however, block her escape.
“What is your name?”
Joanie wanted to scream, why do you care?
She needed to get back to the room to change out of Diana’s clothing.
She did not want Geoffrey to see her in the room dressed as she was.
Eventually, he would know that she was the singer — but she thought being seen in Diana’s finery would only fuel his ire.
“What is your name?” he repeated in the same flat voice.
She fisted her hands at her side to keep herself from lashing out with her tongue in frustration. Whoever he was he exuded danger. “I am no one of consequence.”
“What is your name?”
“Margaret,” she answered, giving her grandmother’s name.
He stepped closer. “Do not lie to me.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Joanie,” she blurted, her heart pounding.
His expression was unreadable as were his dark eyes that, despite their emptiness, seemed to penetrate her very soul. He was effortlessly inescapable. “You are in danger,” he said, his voice still void of emotion despite his warning.
Who was he? And what did he want with her? “Let me pass,” she said, her heart racing harder.
He stepped closer but did not touch her. He had not raised his voice, and yet it felt as if he had surrounded her, bound her.
“Please,” she whispered, choking back on a sob. “Let me pass.”
“You need to calm yourself,” he said, soft and low. He reached out a hand toward her, but he stopped short of touching her. Instead, he raked his hand through his long hair. He closed his eyes. “Come away with me. Whatever it is you are afraid of, I can help. I will take you away from here.”
Alarms sounded in Joanie’s head. Did Geoffrey send him? Was this a test to prove her loyalty?
“Joanie,” he said, drawing her gaze. He was so tall, she had to crane her neck back to meet his gaze.
But a chill raked up her spine, forcing her gaze to drop.
It was then she noticed his hands fisted at his side, his one betrayal of the frustration she knew was building within him.
She could feel it, like heat pouring off him.
“Please,” she said, “if you really want to help me, then get out of my way. I must get back to the room before...” She did not know what else to say. But she could feel herself begin to panic. “Please,” she cried.
He did not move. He remained in front of her, an unbreachable wall of both fire and ice. Then at last he stepped out of the way. “Go,” he snapped.
She gasped. Then she lifted the hem of her tunic and shot forward down the hall as if she was fleeing from the Devil himself.
She glanced back to see if he gave chase.
He stood there, watching her, his long black hair glinting in the candlelight.
His black eyes stood out against his snowy white skin.
She tore her gaze from his and sped up, the candles streaking past in a blur of light, and she did not slow her pace until she reached Diana’s door.