A Duke in the Night(91)

The air around him was redolent of scents he couldn’t immediately identify. Chalk, perhaps? And something pungent, almost acrid. He frowned into the darkness, slowly moving toward the hearth. There had always been candles and a small tinderbox on the mantel, and he suddenly needed to see his surroundings. His knee unexpectedly banged into a hard object, and something glanced off his arm before it fell to the floor with a muffled thud. He stopped, bending down on a knee, his hands outstretched. What the hell had he hit? What the hell was in his rooms?

It hadn’t shattered, whatever it had been. Perhaps it—

“Don’t move.”

Eli froze at the voice. He turned his head slightly, only to feel the tip of a knife prick the skin at his neck.

“I asked you not to move.”

Eli clenched his teeth. It was a feminine voice, he thought. Or perhaps that of a very young boy, though the authority it carried suggested the former. A maid, then. Perhaps she had been up, or perhaps he had woken her. He supposed that this was what he deserved for sneaking into a house unannounced and unexpected. It was, in truth, his house now, but nevertheless, the last thing he needed was for her to start shrieking for help and summon the entire household. He wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said clearly.

“Not on your knees with my knife at your neck, I agree.” The knife tip twisted, though it didn’t break the skin.

“There is a reasonable explanation.” He fought back frustration. Dammit, but he just wanted to be left alone.

“I’m sure. But the silverware is downstairs,” the voice almost sneered. “In case you missed it.”

“I’m not a thief.” He felt his brow crease slightly. Something about the voice from just above him was oddly familiar.

“Ah.” The response was measured, though there was a slight waver to it. “I’ll scream this bloody house down before I allow you to touch me or any of the girls.”

“I’m not touching anyone,” he snapped with far more force than was necessary, before he abruptly stopped. Any of the girls? What the hell did that mean?

The knife tip pressed down a little harder, and Eli winced. He could hear rapid breathing, and a new scent reached him, one unmistakably feminine. Soap, he realized, the fragrance exotic and rich. Something that one wouldn’t expect from a maid.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I might ask the same.”

“Criminals don’t have that privilege.”

Eli bit back another curse. This was ridiculous. His knees were getting sore, and he was chilled to the bone, exhausted from travel, and in his own damn house. If he had to endure England, it would not be like this. In a fluid motion he dropped flat against the floor and rolled immediately to the side, sweeping his arm up to knock that of his attacker’s. He heard her utter a strangled gasp as the knife fell to the floor and she stumbled forward, caught off balance.

Eli was on his knees instantly, his hands catching hers as they flailed at him. He pinned her wrists, twisting her body so she was now on her back on the floor, Eli hovering over her. He heard her suck in a deep breath, and he yanked a hand away to cover her mouth, stopping her scream before it ever escaped.

“Again,” he said between clenched teeth, “I am not going to hurt you.” Beneath his hand her head jerked from side to side. She had fine features, he realized. In fact, all of her felt tiny, from the bones in her wrists to the small frame struggling beneath him. It made him feel suddenly protective. As if he held something infinitely fragile that was his to care for.

Though a woman who brandished a knife in such a manner couldn’t be that fragile. He tightened his hold and cleared his throat. “If you recall, it was you who had me at a disadvantage with a knife at my neck. I will not make any apologies for removing myself from that position. Nor will I make any apologies for my presence at Avondale. I have every right to be here.”

Her struggles stilled.

Eli tried to make out her features in the darkness, but it was impossible. “If I take my hand away, will you scream?”

He felt her shake her head.

“Promise?”

She made a furious noise in the back of her throat in response.

Very slowly Eli removed his hand. She blew out a breath but kept her word and didn’t scream. He released her wrists and pushed himself back on his heels. He heard the rustle of fabric, and the air stirred as she pushed herself away. Her warm, exotic scent swirled around him before fading.

“You’re not a maid,” he said.

“What?” Her confusion was clear. “No.”

“Then who are you?” he demanded. “And why are you in my rooms?”

“Your rooms?” Now there was disbelief. “I don’t know who you think you are or where you think you are, but I can assure you that these are not your rooms.”

Eli swallowed, a sudden thought making his stomach sink unpleasantly. Had Avondale been sold? Had he broken into a house that, in truth, he no longer owned? It wasn’t impossible. It might even be probable. He had been away a long time.

“Is it my brother you are looking for? Is someone hurt?”

The question caught him off guard. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you need a doctor?”

Eli found himself scowling fiercely, completely at a loss. Nothing since he had pushed open that door had made any sort of sense. “Who owns Avondale?”