SOPHIA

"No, thank you," I said.

Juice ran down my chin. Nathan took out a handkerchief and dotted my face with it. Then he handed it to me. I used it to scrub under my neck where more juice lingered.

"Nathan do you think the reason I’ve never really fit in with the Pagemoores is that I’m not their child? It explains why they’re so perfunctory about me. Not to mention cold-hearted. I don’t think my brothers even like me."

"I like you, Miss Sophia," said Hune.

"No, you do not," snapped Nathan.

"Oh, but I do. She’s such a caring soul. A fine lady."

Nathan gritted his teeth so hard I could hear his molars grinding against each other. How did I not notice how jealous he was? I mean it was Hune, for heaven’s sake. My goodness. What would happen if another man paid attention to me for more than 30 seconds?

’You look uncomfortable, Hune. I have an extra pillow," I said, glancing to see my husband’s reaction.

Nathan looked like he was going to squeeze Hune’s neck until his head popped off. Well, that wasn’t good.

"You are such a caring soul," said Hune, beaming. "It’s my honor to serve you. I think I will take---"

"The hell you will," interrupted Nathan. He glared at Hune. "Do you use take my wife’s pillow?"

"She offered." Hune’s expression was almost petulant. "It’s not like I was going to snatch it from her."

"Everything is for my wife," said Nathan. "You’re lucky you get to sit on that seat because my wife owns it, too. In fact, I should make you sit next to the driver for the rest of the trip."

"You can be quite cruel," sniffed Hune.

"It’s a pillow not a chest of gold," I said in a low voice to Nathan.

"I don’t want Hune’s big, fat, stupid head laying on a pillow that my wife uses," he whispered. "If he does, I will throw the pillow and him out of this carriage."

I plucked the orange from his hand and put a slice between his lips. "Have a snack," I said. "Then you should rest. We’ll figure things out slowly one by one, okay?"

"I will listen to you," said Nathan.

He ate the rest of the orange. Then he leaned against the side of the carriage and closed his eyes. I looked out the window, watching as we galloped by trees and fields and farms.

Were there really bodies in Amaranth Manor’s basement? If so, why were they there? Who put them there?

Perhaps Tilda was wrong. Maybe in the light of day with others there to sus out the truth, we would find a different explanation for whatever lay in the basement.

***|***|***

SOPHIA

I had somehow fallen asleep the last hour of the journey. Nathan carried me from the conveyance to our second-floor room at the inn. Apparently, there were only two rooms left, and Hune needed one for himself.

"He could always sleep in the barn," muttered Nathan as we entered the small, clean room. Simple furnishings: bed, small dresser, table with two chairs, one window and a floor that creaked under Nathan’s boots.

"Are you still thinking about the pillow incident?" I asked sleepily. I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

"I’m thinking about how to kill Hune if he continues to flirt with my wife."

"Who’s your wife?" I said. "Put me down."

Nathan tossed me lightly on to the bed. To call it a mattress would be kind. It was more of a hay-filled blanket that crackled under me as I sought to adjust myself.

"Do you think bugs live in the hay?" I asked Nathan as I watched him shed his jacket and unbutton the top of his shirt.

"Definitely," said Nathan.

I looked at him with brows raised. "Oh, really? You want me sleep on this scratchy, uncomfortable so-called mattress infested with bugs?"

"I will protect you," he said. He crouched down and took off my shoes. Then he massaged my feet.

"Oh, that’s heaven," I murmured. If I was a cat, I would be purring right now. He moved his hands to my ankles, rubbing the ache from them.

His fingers slid up my calves, massaging lightly. My heart started to pound and I felt a sharp excited feeling jab me.

"Is it hot in here?" I patted my chest as if doing so might alleviate the heat pouring through me. Not to mention all the tingling.

Nathan’s hands slid to my thighs and I felt all the breath leave my body.

I shot up, leaning on my elbows. "Nathan. What are you doing?"

"Massaging your thighs."

He kneaded the tense muscles, but I don’t think it helped. In fact, I think all those places he was rubbing was make me more tense.

"You are so lovely," said Nathan, his voice hoarse.

I felt his fingers slid up my inner thighs. I yelped and clamped my legs shut. Nathan’s hands got caught between them. He looked at him, amused. "Don’t worry," he said. "I told you, I won’t take your body until you’re mine. But damn, my love. You are temptation personified." He wiggled his hands. "Will you please let go?"

I parted my thighs, and Nathan pulled his hands away. Then he stood up, drawing my dress down to cover my trembling legs.

Actually, all of me was trembling.

"Are you cold?" he asked. "Unfortunately, there’s no fireplace."

I moved so that I was on the side of the bed near the wall. I felt so nervous. More nervous than I had ever felt in my life. It’s not like Nathan and I hadn’t been cuddling every night.

Nathan took off his boots and then settled next to me on the bed. He rolled onto his side and pulled me into his arms.

My face was pressed his against his chest, his arms tightly clamped around me.

"I can’t breathe," I complained.

"Sorry." He loosened his grip. "I forgot to blow out the candle," he said, groaning.

"I’ll do it." Nathan had no choice but to let me go. I crawled over him to get out of bed, and then blew out all the candles in the room. As I was headed back toward the bed, my foot caught on a raised floorboard.

Then I was propelled forward.

Landing right on top of Nathan.