Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners)(25)

And Dante.

Bella had no real wish to go out into the dark of night or walk the two miles to the village. But the need she felt to escape Dante and his hurtful accusations far outweighed any trepidation she might feel in regard to the darkness outside.

She kept very quiet as she left the bedchamber, carefully placing one foot in front of the other to test the floorboards for creaks so as not to alert Dante as she crept down the hallway and stairs. They would have taken far less time to navigate if she had taken note and remembered any floorboards that had creaked when she came upstairs earlier, but her thoughts had been elsewhere at the time.

Or nonexistent outside of the pain she felt at Dante’s lack of trust in her.

No, she would not think about that again now. Plenty of time, when she was far away from here, to wallow in the mixture of emotions inside her, of the misery and anger she still felt at Dante’s betrayal. He was—

The guttering candlelight downstairs revealed him as lying fast asleep on one of the couches in the comfortable seating area.

Bella froze on the bottom step of the stairs, terrified she might have woken him, and so making escape impossible.

Dante remained motionless. He was still fully dressed in the clothes he had been wearing earlier, although his boots had been removed. His head was at one end of the couch, dark hair disheveled. One stockinged foot rested on the opposite end of that piece of furniture, the other on the floor. His arms were folded on his chest.

He was snoring gently.

Bella gave an inner derisive snort as she thought of his denial the previous night of ever snoring. Not an unpleasant or stentorian snore, to be sure, but it was certainly louder than heavy breathing. There was also a strong odor of brandy, and an empty glass on the floor beside the couch, which perhaps accounted for Dante sleeping so heavily.

None of which was of the least importance when Bella’s only goal was to escape from here and him.

Dante might have drunk enough brandy to send him into a deep sleep, but even so, she dared not risk the noise of making a cup of tea or preparing food. She would ask for both once she reached the inn. At the moment, Bella’s only priority was to leave the house as quickly and stealthily as possible.

Her cloak and bonnet were where she had left them in the hallway, but she hesitated about leaving by the front door, seeming to remember it had squeaked slightly when first opened on their arrival. The back door, then. Although there was no guarantee that would not also make a noise if she attempted to open it. Perhaps the front door might be best after all—

“Going somewhere?”

Bella closed her eyes and counted to ten as she fought back the disappointment at having been found out before she had even had chance to step outside.

She breathed in deeply before turning to face Dante. He was now sitting up on the couch, his face appearing haggard in the candlelight. There were dark shadows under his eyes, deep grooves in his cheeks and beside his eyes, his mouth was unsmiling, and the stubble darker than ever on his jaw.

Her chin rose. “I came downstairs for a cup of tea and something to eat.”

He raised skeptical brows. “If that’s the case, you were facing in the wrong direction.”

She knew that, damn him. “I was merely collecting my bonnet and cloak in preparation for taking them with me when I go back upstairs.”

Dante did not for one moment believe Bella’s claim. But neither did he wish to argue with her again tonight. Better to let the subject go for now. They had far more important things to turn their attention to. “I would welcome a cup of tea.” His mouth felt as if it were filled with those small balls of cotton he had once seen a drawing of in the newspaper, which grew in the south of the Americas. His head felt as if someone were banging a drum inside it, and his stomach had roiled at the mere mention of food.

A glance at the brandy bottle across the room revealed that it was now only half-full, explaining why he felt all those things.

“I am sure you know where the makings for the tea are better than I,” Bella answered him tartly.

His brow lowered in a wince. “Do you have to talk so loudly?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” If anything, Bella raised her voice a little.

“I advise you to save your anger for when I feel capable of dealing with it.”

Her smile was scathing. “And when do you expect that to be?”

“I have no fucking idea.” Dante sat up to swing both legs to the floor. The fire was still alight, just, and keeping the room warm, but the candle looked as it if was about to go out. “Nothing else to say?” he challenged as he rose slowly to his feet to deal with the fire and light a fresh candle. “No warnings of the evils of the demon drink? No crowing over the fact I am obviously suffering from an excess of brandy?”

“I doubt there is any need for me to point out the obvious,” she spat out.

“No, there is absolutely no need for you to do that.” He moved down on his haunches to throw several logs on the fire, watching the flames roar to life before straightening to take a taper, setting it alight in those flames before lighting a fresh candle. “But most women would not hesitate to do so,” he added once warmth and light had been restored to the room.

“As I said, I see no reason to point out the obvious.” Her mouth was thinned with disapproval. “I can only hope the discomfort you are currently suffering is at least a fraction of the hurt you have caused me.”