Sleeping Engagement

XVI. A Deal

She was surprised that he chose to stay in the same villa. It had not changed. It seemed that it was only yesterday that she had been here. Those were perhaps her happiest days—back when they were ignorant of the future.

"If you do not mind, I prefer to talk in your study," she said, walking straight up the stairs.

He sighed behind her but said not a word and followed. The days when she walked through the same corridors, their conversations and laughter echoing down its path, flew past with each step. Her eyes landed on his bedchamber door as she walked by and she wondered if it still looked the same.

His study was right next door. Stepping inside, she stopped and looked around while he walked past her and settled behind his large desk, face impassive.

Margaret realized she was barely breathing. The walls of the library seemed to be closing in on her, its memories milking her lungs of air.

"I see you did not bother to change anything," she forced out, walking toward the chair. As she sat, she realized how heavy she felt. How this felt so wrong.

The wall of books behind him reminded her of one particular night. It was fresh in her mind—the touch of his hands, his lips. The sound of the books falling on the floor, his breath that tingled her skin. The burning.

Her gaze flickered away from the memory and back to search his gaze. She didn't know which felt worse. The memories or the blank look in his eyes.

Clearing her throat, Margaret gathered her wits.

"What makes you believe your servant is a victim of a slave trade?" he asked, breaking the heavy silence.

"She told me she was held captive among other women in a manor. However, she couldn't say where."

"She escaped?"

She nodded. "To this day, I have not yet prodded for more information. She is very much in fear. My main concern is her safety."

"By providing her with the right papers."

"She wishes to change her name and I agree. A new identity shall offer security."

"Do you have reasons to believe she is being sought out?"

"If she is speaking the truth, yes." She hesitated for a moment. "Someone may have already found her."

His brow furrowed. "Found her?"

She nodded. "I've noticed someone following me." Anger was not the reaction she expected. His nostrils flared and his eyes pierced at her. "What?"

"You're being followed?"

"I think I am. I'm not certain."

"Since when?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I first saw him a few days ago outside the manor."

"And yet you go around without companion?" he gritted out.

She rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself, my lord."

"Don't be foolish, Margaret. You're in danger."

"I'm always in danger. Women always are," she snapped. "We walk the streets covered from head to toe and yet we are still being subjected to men's unsolicited attention. What would you rather I do? Lock myself and my new servant at home and wait for someone to rescue us?"

"You could take precautions."

"I do."

"Do not take this lightly," he said, growling through his teeth. "If this girl is indeed a victim of a slave trade, you are looking into powerful enemies."