icky, don’t you think? I’m pretty certain
it would be incest, given that she’s had an affair with his father. If not
that, then it’s far too close a relationship for comfort. I wouldn’t want to
seduce a woman that my father had made love to first. Certainly not one in her
sixties.”
“He was paying her a lot of attention tonight.”
“Probably pumping her for information about Cariastan.”
“Well, yes, he did ask her rather a lot about it. I
suppose it’s natural that he wants to know more about his father’s homeland.”
“Hmm, I’m sure he does.” He turned to Caroline and she remembered that she was alone with him, in
the cellar with only the small flicker of a candle to illuminate the darkness.
His eyes searched her face, before focussing on her lips. “Well, Sherlock,” he
said softly, “we’d be as well to leave our deliberations for tomorrow when it’s
light and I’m not so tempted to take advantage of this situation.”
“What? By bumping me off so I don’t talk about your
dastardly plans to assassinate the prince?”
“Actually I just planned to kiss you into submission.”
Caroline swallowed hard, thinking that the idea did not
sound so bad when put into words. Luckily she remembered her own rules. “I can
assure you, Mr Laurenson that I am not, and I never will be, that much of a
pushover.”
In the next instant, his hand caught her waist and he
pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. “Are you sure?” he said, when
he let her go.
Horrified by how easily she had given in, Caroline turned
and ran away from him, stumbling up the cellar steps in the darkness. She fled
to the safety of her room and locked the door behind her.
It was only when she was
lying in her bed, having left on all the lights, and had stopped her heart from
pounding that something niggled at her. Something she should have realised, but
which was just at the edge of her consciousness. She had almost dozed off when
her eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. The realisation hit her like a freight
train. Blake had not only known which drawer held the matches and candles in the
kitchen, but he had also known where the door to the cellar was, and exactly
where the gas taps were when they reached it. There had something else too.
Something that niggled at her, but which lay just beyond her reach. Something
someone had said. What was it? The more she tried to remember, the blanker her
mind became. If only she could fight the dreadful tiredness that assailed her.
She got out of bed and started pacing her room,
determined not to sleep. How had he known all that? And why had he suddenly
appeared she was talking to Stephens? She thought about him taking her down to
the cellar, and wondered if he had done it to ease her suspicions, thinking she
would not suspect him if he openly shared what he knew about the gas taps.
Unable to sleep, Caroline went to get her book off the
bedside table, thinking to sit in the chair and read for a while. She had left
the book open, facing downwards on the bedside table, but when she went to get
it, it was on the floor, closed. She supposed she might have knocked it off,
but when she bent down to pick it up, she noticed that her suitcase was
sticking out from under the bed. Normally neat and tidy, she felt certain she
had not left it like that. Pulling it out, she checked it and found that the
lock had been forced, and her clothes had been disturbed. She looked around the
room, trying to remember how everything had been when she last left it. One of
the drawers on the dresser was partly open, yet she had not bothered to unpack
because they were staying such a short time and she had enough to do to sort
out Mrs Oakengate’s
it would be incest, given that she’s had an affair with his father. If not
that, then it’s far too close a relationship for comfort. I wouldn’t want to
seduce a woman that my father had made love to first. Certainly not one in her
sixties.”
“He was paying her a lot of attention tonight.”
“Probably pumping her for information about Cariastan.”
“Well, yes, he did ask her rather a lot about it. I
suppose it’s natural that he wants to know more about his father’s homeland.”
“Hmm, I’m sure he does.” He turned to Caroline and she remembered that she was alone with him, in
the cellar with only the small flicker of a candle to illuminate the darkness.
His eyes searched her face, before focussing on her lips. “Well, Sherlock,” he
said softly, “we’d be as well to leave our deliberations for tomorrow when it’s
light and I’m not so tempted to take advantage of this situation.”
“What? By bumping me off so I don’t talk about your
dastardly plans to assassinate the prince?”
“Actually I just planned to kiss you into submission.”
Caroline swallowed hard, thinking that the idea did not
sound so bad when put into words. Luckily she remembered her own rules. “I can
assure you, Mr Laurenson that I am not, and I never will be, that much of a
pushover.”
In the next instant, his hand caught her waist and he
pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. “Are you sure?” he said, when
he let her go.
Horrified by how easily she had given in, Caroline turned
and ran away from him, stumbling up the cellar steps in the darkness. She fled
to the safety of her room and locked the door behind her.
It was only when she was
lying in her bed, having left on all the lights, and had stopped her heart from
pounding that something niggled at her. Something she should have realised, but
which was just at the edge of her consciousness. She had almost dozed off when
her eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. The realisation hit her like a freight
train. Blake had not only known which drawer held the matches and candles in the
kitchen, but he had also known where the door to the cellar was, and exactly
where the gas taps were when they reached it. There had something else too.
Something that niggled at her, but which lay just beyond her reach. Something
someone had said. What was it? The more she tried to remember, the blanker her
mind became. If only she could fight the dreadful tiredness that assailed her.
She got out of bed and started pacing her room,
determined not to sleep. How had he known all that? And why had he suddenly
appeared she was talking to Stephens? She thought about him taking her down to
the cellar, and wondered if he had done it to ease her suspicions, thinking she
would not suspect him if he openly shared what he knew about the gas taps.
Unable to sleep, Caroline went to get her book off the
bedside table, thinking to sit in the chair and read for a while. She had left
the book open, facing downwards on the bedside table, but when she went to get
it, it was on the floor, closed. She supposed she might have knocked it off,
but when she bent down to pick it up, she noticed that her suitcase was
sticking out from under the bed. Normally neat and tidy, she felt certain she
had not left it like that. Pulling it out, she checked it and found that the
lock had been forced, and her clothes had been disturbed. She looked around the
room, trying to remember how everything had been when she last left it. One of
the drawers on the dresser was partly open, yet she had not bothered to unpack
because they were staying such a short time and she had enough to do to sort
out Mrs Oakengate’s
Similar Books
