6. Chapter 6

Her stomach growling, Nemity flipped back the sheets on her bed, crawling out and reaching for her wrap.

She should have eaten during dinner—eaten her full meal—for now she was awake and unable to sleep for the angry pangs in her stomach.

She knotted her wrap loosely around her waist, yawning as she lit the candle next to her bed.

Picking up the candlestick, she looked to the center of her windows where she'd left the curtains open and had cracked the window for fresh air. The moon was shining bright tonight—she hadn't seen that in weeks for the constant cloud cover.

Not bothering with slippers, she moved to her door, opening it, and promptly tripped over a large mass directly outside her door.

A squeal erupted from her mouth as she went down, the flame of the candle going out as the candlestick flew from her hand. She landed hard on her side, the impact knocking all the air from her lungs.

"Bloody hell." A low growl. Movement in the dark hallway shadows.

The mass belonged to Callum.

She rolled herself up to sitting. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"Sleeping." He barked back. "What in the hell are you doing?"

Rubbing her upper arm that had taken the brunt of her fall, she glanced down the hallway. There was just enough light coming in from the window at the end of the corridor to see the outline of Callum as he sat up. "I was hungry so I was about to visit the kitchens."

He rubbed the back of his head, his voice sounding perplexed. "In the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I could."

She puffed out a sigh, moving to her knees to reach for the candlestick she'd lost grip on. "You do this often?"

"What? My job?" The growl hadn't lessened in his voice.

"Sleep on the floor outside a room."

"I do what is necessary."

"You do what a creeper would." There. Her fingertips touched the metal of the candlestick. She grabbed it and looked at him.

In the scant light, she saw the smallest smile lift his cheek.

"Truly, Callum. Why aren't you in your room? Was it not to your liking? You thought to lie out here so you could tell me first thing in the morning?"

"I told you, I'm doing my job." He got to his feet and held a hand down to her.

She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "Your job entails sleeping on a hard floor when there is a perfectly suitable, comfortable bed waiting for you? Thomas is really demanding a lot from you."

"He didn't demand anything. I demand it of myself." He didn't let her hand go and he started tugging her along the hallway. Without thought, she followed him, still trying to see the full of his face in the low light. "My job is to protect you, and it is damn hard to do so from the other side of this house. I'm at least five minutes away, even running through the corridors."

"You timed it?"

He shrugged. "I counted the steps."

"You what?"

"Counted the steps along each hallway from there to here. I know how fast I can run, and the corners would slow me down."

They started walking down the left steps of the split identical curved staircases that ran from the second level down into the grand foyer.

Her jaw dropped slightly at his statement. "Well, there is no need for that. No need to count steps or sleep in front of my door. No one would dare sneak into Springfell in the middle of the night."

"You are sure on that?"

"Well, yes." Her lips pursed, then she nodded. "Fairly sure. And even if someone did come in, they wouldn't know where to go to reach me."

"I imagine one could lurk about in the shadows in this place for quite some time." They turned down the corridor that led to the kitchens. "Not a single person on the staff saw me set up camp at your door, much less asked me about it. Lurk about, look in rooms—it would be easy enough to do at night. How many exterior doors are there here at Springfell?"

She counted in her head. "Six—no, seven."

"Not to mention the windows one could sneak through. I noticed open windows in the library, study, dining hall, billiards room, and the third drawing room you showed me, what was it called?"

"The Neptune Drawing Room."

"Yes. That one. Who closes all those windows at night?"

She stared up at his profile dipping in and out of the shadows as they walked. She didn't have a good answer for him. She imagined no one closed them at night.

Was she really living in that much delusion? Danger around every corner? Her life forfeit at any moment?

At her silence, he glanced down at her. "Why don't you want me here? Why such staunch resistance?"

They took a few steps before she answered him. "Many reasons."

"Tell me one."

She sighed. If she started telling him things, she didn't know if she could stop. And that couldn't happen.

Still, she could offer him something. "Here is the only place I am free. Not under Thomas's nose. Not under the wagging fingers of the ton. One would think after my many seasons, I would be a curiosity they had brushed aside, but I am not. Here I get to be me."

"It is an interesting concept, being oneself. I tend to think one is oneself no matter the circumstance or what airs are put on."

"Then you have never stood before the old biddies of the ton. Their pinched faces alone set a rod of straight iron into one's spine."

He chuckled. "You like to slouch?"

"I like to be able to slouch when the mood strikes."

They walked down the stairway to the kitchens and he led her to a roughhewn table in the middle of the wide space, pulling out a stool for her to sit on.

He unclasped his hand from the hold it had on hers, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized he'd held her hand the whole walk down to the kitchens.

Unthinkable.

She snatched her hand to her belly, her fingers curling inward.

How did she possibly let that happen?

She set the candlestick down and he took it, moving about in the near dark. A spark in the void and he lit a spill, then set spill to wick.

Light flickering in the space, he used the candle she'd brought to light five more candles set on the table.

Without a word, he went to the side larder and pulled free a loaf of bread, finding a knife on the counter next to it.

He set the bread on the table in front of her, cut two slices from it, then moved to the larger larder at the rear of the kitchen and pulled a block of cheese out, setting it on a plate. He grabbed a bottle of wine and a tin cup as he moved across the room back to her.

She watched him curiously as he set it all down on the table and grabbed the knife to cut the cheese.

He knew his way around a kitchen.

"Thank you. Though I could have made it down here and pulled all this out. You didn't need to come all the way here, as I'm sure you want to get back to sleep."

"It is not a problem." His head stayed down as he sliced thin strips of the cheese. "I'm awake now."

She opened the wine bottle and poured the cup full, pushed it toward him, then hopped from her stool to grab another cup and fill it. "But there isn't any danger down here in the kitchens."

"Call me thorough." He grabbed another stool and sat around the corner of the table from her, pointing at the food as she sat. "Eat. Unless you want me to dig around and see what else your cook has left about?"

"No, this is good. Thank you." She took a sip of wine and then picked up a cheese slice, layering it on the bread. Exactly what she would have pulled out for herself, though he didn't need to know that fact about her.

She took a bite, swallowing it as she watched him take a sip of the wine from the simple tin cup. "What is your job, exactly? I mean, I know what Thomas sent you here to do, but aside from this, are you usually a man without a care? A man of leisure like Charley, who just got into a spot of trouble at the gaming tables?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that I am a man of leisure like Charley, though I do spend a lot of time with him in London. Honestly, my only concern is what is in front of me—my task to protect you." He lifted his tin cup to her. "So, I will do that to the best of my ability until it is no longer necessary."

She nodded, taking another large bite of the bread and cheese.

"Hell, is that wax?" She reached out across the table to his cheek and flicked her thumb across his skin, dislodging hardened wax from where it had splattered onto his face. "From my candle—I am sorry. It must have happened when I tripped."

He stilled as her fingers touched him, looking at her oddly, then shook his head. "It is nothing."

She pulled away, flicking out the wax that had caught under her nail. "Yet it was hot wax. It must have stung."

He shrugged. "Pain and I have a unique relationship."

"Which is?"

"I ignore it."

A faint smile touched her lips, her eyebrows drawing together. She waited, but he didn't say anything else.

What an odd man. And abrupt when he didn't want to answer questions.

And sinfully attractive, though not in a classically handsome way. Something emanating from him that she couldn't quite pin down, but felt in the air.

Her friends would not be quick to call him handsome. He was far too gruff. Too big. Too…manly. But she. She would. Maybe it was something one had to feel when one was sitting on the floor next to him to understand, but there it was.

Attraction.

Attraction that made her mouth water and swallow hard.

Attraction that palpitated down to the crux of her, blood rushing to her folds.

That it was the middle of the night and she couldn't sleep didn't help.

What was she thinking?

Moreover, why was she thinking with parts of her body that shouldn't have any say, in any matter, ever?

She needed to get rid of him. Stop encouraging him to even talk to her.

Her fingers fumbling, she gathered her plate and set the cup of wine on it. "Maybe I'll just take this up to my room."

His shoulders were still stiff from her earlier touch and he nodded. "That would probably be wise." He stood, swallowing the full of his cup, then returned the bread and cheese to the spots he found them.

She blew out the extra candles and picked up her candlestick.

Silently, they walked back up to her room.

He pushed open her door, stepping inside before her, and looked around, presumably to check for the imaginary brute he was sure had slipped into the house.

He stepped back, motioning her inward.

Turning sideways to step past him in the doorway, she stopped as he grabbed the door handle.

She glanced down at the floor just outside her door where a rumpled blanket had been shoved to the side. "Are you still going to sleep out here, even though it's not necessary and I wish you wouldn't?"

He nodded, his voice gruff. "You guess correct."

She nodded. "Good sleep to you then."

He closed the door and she had to take a deep breath.

She knew what the man was doing, worming his way into her thoughts so that he could discover her secrets. Secrets she wasn't about to share with him.

Setting the food down on the small round table by the open window, she turned around, staring at the door for a long moment.

She didn't imagine sleep would be coming quickly for her.

But that didn't mean it wouldn't for him, even on that hard floor.

She looked to her bed and sighed. Defeated in this one small way, she went to her bed and pulled one of the extra pillows free.

Going to the door, she paused for a long breath, then cracked the door and thrust the pillow out into the hallway.

She held it in the air for an awkward moment before he grabbed it.

Another grunt from him.

Probably a thank you.

Blast. Sleep would escape her for some time, she imagined.

But that would give her time to imagine up ways to avoid him tomorrow, and every day after that.

Avoidance was key in this situation.