Chapter 6

Theresia practically fled toward the bedchamber door, eager to put distance between her and the imposing captain. She had felt his incredible strength, sensed his quick mind, and been nearly overcome by the exposed portion of his chest decorated with scars and thick-corded muscle. Oh, why hadn't the man donned his waistcoat sooner? She had been alive with nerves and anticipation all night, certain her sheer determination would see her plan through. But not once had she foreseen the turn of events that had led her to being tackled to the ground and challenged by her once hero.

A man strong enough to overpower a thief.

A man kind enough to care for strangers.

And better yet, a man who had literally saved her life.

But since he did not seem to recognize her from that day, it was best that he think her a Roma, lower than a servant and far beneath his notice, as nearly every other Englishman of her acquaintance had, and forget all about her. She reached the door, eager to flee the oppressive room, and pulled it open. She gasped when she saw the back of a well-dressed middle-aged man, his dark hair streaked with gray. He was about to enter the bedchamber directly across the corridor from her, but there was no way he hadn't heard her startled reaction. Sure enough, the older man turned toward the sound. She willed herself to close the door but could not bring herself to move.

In a whirl of motion, the captain's strong arm pulled her to the side, effectively hiding her behind the door and putting himself in the open gap.

"Rolland? I noticed you had gone to bed prematurely," the strange voice said.

She was pressed between the door and the captain's side and could barely bring herself to breath. She could smell whatever salve had been placed on his injured arm and see the bandages peeking out of his unbuttoned shirt. but she could smell him too, soap and a faint musk radiating from his skin.

"Yes, Father. I exhausted myself."

Probably from knocking her off her feet.

"Did you need something, then?" his father asked from across the corridor.

The captain's breathing was as erratic as her own, but his voice remained steady and casual. "No. I heard you coming and only meant to say good night."

"Good night, then."

Captain—or Rolland—whomever he was—shut the door and released a sigh of relief. He looked down at her and she up at him. Theresia was certain this position—with his arm bracing her against the door—was only appropriate for married couples. Or, at least, that is what she would have instructed any girl at the seminary. But no one had ever taught lessons on how paralyzing such close proximity could be and how to gather the strength to pull away when not wed.

Fortunately, captains seemed prepared for every scenario, because Rolland blinked twice and stepped back. Her hand flew to her heart like the first time she had been in this man's arms, willing her pulse to slow.

"Since my parents are in the room directly across from me, I don't think the door the most appropriate exit at the moment either."

Theresia's shock dissipated, leaving her entirely flustered by the captain's implied alternative. "You cannot expect me to stay here with you."

Rolland scratched his chin. The dark stubble there matched the short, thick hair on his head and was only marginally darker than his deep, brown eyes. "Granger, I am afraid that after a full night of avoiding women, fate has trapped me with one."

"Seems so, Cap'n."

Rolland gave her a once-over. "Couldn't you have climbed through any other window?"

"Yours was the only one open."

"Of course it was. You can take my bed for a few hours, and Granger and I will sleep in the closet. When the house is quiet, if it ever is with such diverse company, I will have Granger sneak you out."

Theresia had already been pushed past her limit of scandals for one night by hiding her identity, sneaking into a duke's house, and being caught in a man's bedchamber. She wasn't about to willingly spend the night here. "I am afraid such an idea is beyond my sensibilities."

Rolland coughed on a laugh. "Forgive me, but our actions do have consequences. And I would much rather turn you in as an intruder than disappoint my mother by letting her think otherwise."

Theresia crossed her arms. "I do not care what your mother thinks. I cannot stay in this room. If you will not let me leave through the door, I must take my chances through the window."

Rolland stepped back. "By all means, sacrifice yourself."

She glared and marched by him. She even leaned the opposite direction to avoid feeling anything toward Rolland that would lessen her ire. Because if she knew anything about herself, it was that the more frustrated she was, the more determined she became. She might have leaned too much to the side, though, especially while wearing Johan's wife's dress. Apparently she was not bruised enough from being plowed to the floor mere minutes earlier, because she tripped over herself. She saw the ground coming fast toward her but, miraculously, never felt it—thanks to a man who was both injured and extremely capable.

Rolland caught her arm, and in a rush, she was pulled back into his arms.

She stared up at his grim expression. "Do you see why I cannot stay here?" Her voice came out breathless. "This is the third time in the short duration since we've met that you have thrown yourself at me."

He released her like a hot coal. "Usually when I save someone, they say thank you."

She ran her hands down her skirt, her heart pounding fiercely once more. "Dare I thank someone for forcing me to remain in a condemning situation? Forgive me. I will just be on my way." She took a step forward, and her ankle gave out. No hand came forward this time to stabilize her. Thankfully, she caught herself on the bed.

"Miss?" Granger stepped forward when Rolland did not move. It seemed she had effectively put the captain in his place.

"It's not broken," she said, putting weight on it once more. No, not broken, but it hurt enough to make balancing on her toes and scaling down a wall far scarier than it already was. She glanced out the window and then over at Rolland. "You will stay in the closet the entire time?"

In the short window she'd known the man, she'd witnessed a myriad of his emotions. This one she would guess to be exasperation. "You have my word."

"That will have to be good enough."

"I will go in search of a maid's uniform," Granger said. "And a coal bucket. If we are going to sneak you out of 'ere, we had best be thorough."

She was glad there was someone thinking clearer than she was. It was apparent now that she should have had a backup plan. Why, oh why, had she thrown out all the rules of propriety that had been drilled into her for years?

After Granger slipped from the room, Rolland took one of the candles and opened the closet door. She squinted into the narrow area. It might be long enough for Granger to sleep in, but she doubted Rolland would fit. And the two would have to lie like sardines to manage the width of it. "Perhaps I should take the closet. I am a great deal smaller."

He looked at her over his shoulder—his injured one, if she remembered correctly. "I plan to put up my hammock, which I prefer to a bed anyway. And I am not letting a woman who refuses to even tell me her name steal my place of rest, even if she is an accomplished musician and wall climber. I do have my limits."

Had he complimented her in the same breath as dismissing her? This was undoubtedly the most awkward situation she had ever been in. "The bed will suit me very well, thank you." But she knew already that she would not sleep at all. How could she even close her eyes knowing that she was in a strange man's bed? Especially since somewhere in the house could be her prized vase and only hope for the future?