by Gaelen Foley
At that moment, the passage ended abruptly at one of those small doors cut into the interior wall. Looks like I’ve come to the end.
She leaned forward, putting her ear up against it. She heard nothing, but when she glanced around for a spyhole, there wasn’t one. Though she couldn’t confirm it visually, she felt confident the room was empty because it was so very quiet on the other side.
Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Quite ready to escape the cramped, lightless secret passage, she cautiously opened the door.
Only more darkness waited beyond.
Lifting her turnip lamp ahead of her, she climbed through the miniature doorway into what appeared to be a massive piece of wooden furniture—possibly a large cabinet or wardrobe.
It must’ve been set there against the wall to help conceal the tunnel’s entrance to this room. Once again, she listened for all she was worth, and, hearing nothing, decided to venture out.
Gathering her nerve, she slowly pushed the wardrobe door open.
The room beyond was pitch-dark, and as she climbed out, the first thing she noticed was the sharp, acrid smell of the room. Her eyes watered; she wrinkled her nose.
God, what on earth is that? It smelled like ammonia salts. Or Wesley’s litterbox, times ten.
Two large, arched windows on the exterior wall let in just enough moonlight to show her the outline of a few large plants. Gracious, they were potted palm trees that almost touched the ceiling. She shook her head.
This place just keeps getting stranger.
Holding up her lantern, she surveyed the room, befuddled. Where am I, some sort of guestroom, conservatory?
There was a bed, but no other furniture, save a large leather trunk pushed up against the wall near the door.
The feeble glow of her lantern barely picked it out. Hmm. The trunk instantly drew her. Maybe there were secrets of some sort hidden inside.
As she crossed the chamber toward the leather trunk, she saw but barely registered other odds and ends in the room: a rope hammock like a fisherman’s net hung up in the corner, a fat log standing in the middle of the room for no apparent reason, and what looked like large dog toys strewn about at random. A leather ball, a bulky twist of rawhide.
She had no idea what to make of it, but dismissed these details as irrelevant, eager to find the information she had come for. Reaching the trunk, she set her lantern down and eagerly lifted the lid.
She peered inside, only to be disappointed. The trunk held nothing but some folded blankets, what appeared to be a leash, a variety of brushes, and a few more…
Animal toys.
A gasp of belated understanding escaped her—and at that very moment, a low growl arose from somewhere behind her.
Behind her and above.
Oh, God. Serena froze, petrified by the menacing, throaty rumble at her back. She could sense something right behind her.
Something large.
But it didn’t sound like a guard dog. Not the least because it was up by the ceiling.
Pulse thumping, she turned around slowly and lifted her gaze to the rafters.
She gasped but bit back a shriek to find a jet-black leopard balancing on the open beams that crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling.
Utter shock gripped her. Pinned against the wall, she was paralyzed with fear. A leopard? He has a leopard?
Its eyes were golden-green, its fangs pearly white as it warned her with another monstrous hiss.
Serena shrank down in disbelief.
Why does he have a leopard?
She saw its big white claws gripping the beam, the annoyed whip of the tail thrashing behind it. Most of its shadowy shape was nigh invisible in the darkness, but it looked huge.
More than that, it looked hungry.
With a gulp, Serena began edging toward the door. “N-nice kitty…”
It dawned on her that the big cat must’ve been reclining on top of the wardrobe where she had come out, for she hadn’t even seen it.
Oh God, I hope he’s tame.
“There’s a g-good kitty,” she whispered weakly, not taking her eyes off the beast glaring down at her as she edged toward the door.
Her movements were ginger and agonizingly slow so as not to provoke the beautiful monster into attacking. And though outwardly she was silent, inwardly, Serena was screaming her bloody head off.
Why does he have a leopard?
Of course, she had seen his coat of arms in the library, but she was beyond rational thought.
She bit back a half-hysterical shriek when the beast pounced down from the ceiling to the floor, landing lightly before her.
Oh. My. God. It’s going to eat me.
The door was in reach now, but would she make it? She was all but hyperventilating. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek as she held the animal’s stare.
“Nice beastie…I’ll just be on my way…”
The leopard stood as tall as her hip, wiry and beautiful and deadly, an elegant creature made for stealth. Its long whiskers twitched as it leaned forward as though to sniff her.
Serena jerked away and the cat complained with a low yowl.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said as her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. “I’ll be going now.”
She kicked a nearby toy toward the big cat to distract it, then flung the door open and threw herself out, whirling into the hallway beyond and slamming the door with a shriek just as the cat leaped.
Big paws thumped against the other side of the door.
A whispered stream of terrified curses poured from Serena’s lips as she paused in the hallway, trying to collect herself. Her whole body shaking, she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming after the fact.
It was only then, as she stood there, knees knocking, that she noticed the sign on the door: Beware! Danger! DO NOT ENTER.
“Now you tell me,” she whispered, trying to bring herself under control. “I daresay.” Clutching her chest, she strove to will her heartbeat back to normal and, still quivering, glanced around, trying to get her bearings.
She found herself in an upper hallway. Thankfully, it was empty except for her.
That’ll teach you, her better sense chided. She swallowed hard and decided perhaps it was wise to abort her mission while she was still in one piece. I think I’ve had enough for tonight.
If the Duke of Rivenwood kept a wild animal locked up in his house, Lord only knew what other traps might still await the unsuspecting snooper.
Aye, she thought, blowing out a steadying breath, maybe there was a reason why he only had the one friend. Clearly, the man was not fit for human company.
Never mind him, she thought. The more important question was, How do I get out of here?
She certainly couldn’t go back the way she’d come. Her whole body still filled with the pins-and-needles aftermath of panic, she stood there clenching and unclenching her hands a few times, then winced as it dawned on her she’d left her turnip lantern in the cat’s room.
Perfect. Now she had left evidence of her trespass behind. Tiny as the flame was, enclosed inside a vegetable, she was not concerned about it burning the house down, even if the big cat investigated.
The creature might singe its whiskers, but one puff of breath would blow the flame out.
Finally regrouping, she focused on escaping Rivenwood House without further incident. Obviously, she’d have to find a staircase. She glanced in both directions down the hallway, trying to decide which way to go.
It looked like the top of a staircase to her right, so she headed toward it with a huff, still shaking her head—a pet leopard!
She had taken only a few steps down the hallway when she heard footsteps pounding up the same stairwell she’d intended to go down.
Oh, God, what now? Someone was coming. I can’t be seen up here. Hide!
She glanced around wildly, but the hallway itself offered no concealment. It had nothing but a carpet runner, a pier table under a mirror, and a fau
teuil beside it. Her only choice was to risk entering another one of these godforsaken chambers. But really, how many of them could contain wild beasts?
The footsteps were growing louder, nearing the top of the steps.
Hide! Panicking, Serena picked a room at random across the hall and a few doors down from the cat room. Opening it, she swept a darkened bedchamber with an anxious glance, trying to ascertain if it was beast-free.
“Rivenwood! Where on earth are you going?” a woman called from the direction of the stairwell.
Serena gasped. Not just anyone was coming. The duke!
“Bianca—please, as I said, I’ll be right with you. I have to check on something right away.”
Egads. He sounded slightly frantic, Serena thought, whisking into the bedchamber. Pulling the door shut silently behind her, she held her breath and listened through the door as the Duke of Rivenwood himself apparently came running into the hallway.
The footsteps stopped at, she believed, the cat room.
“Stay back, Bianca!” A door creaked open, then she heard him say, “Raja? Are you all right in here, boy?”
Serena stood motionless as the cat door clicked shut again. My God, he went in there with that thing?
“Rivenwood!” this Bianca complained. It sounded like the woman had come up into the hallway. She knocked on the cat room door. “What’s going on? What are you doing in there?”
“Stay out!” he barked, his voice muffled.
Serena heard the lady huff at his curt command.
“Rudesby!” Bianca muttered. “You invite me here and then ignore me? You’re worse than Netherford.”
Ohh. Serena’s eyebrows rose as she realized then who Bianca was—that scandalous theater woman.
Certain ladies of Moonlight Square kept everyone apprised of the latest gossip. Most knew by now that the reformed rakehell Netherford had been the diva’s keeper before the clever Felicity had brought her duke to heel.
After a moment, Serena heard the door open again, and Azrael apparently emerged from the beast’s quarters unscathed. “Sorry about that.”
“Rivenwood, what on earth?” Bianca demanded.
“Just checking on my cat, dear.”
“Oh, may I see him? I have a cat myself.”
“Er, not right now. He’s a bit riled up with all the people here.”
“Why does the door say Danger, Your Grace?”
“Uh, it’s a long story.”
“Well, never mind then. I think you know I didn’t come here to talk.”
There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door. Serena frowned, suspicious about what was going on out there.
The moment passed.
“What is it, Rivenwood? You still seem distracted.” Bianca sounded slightly breathless as the duke’s heavy footfalls moved past the door where Serena was hiding.
“It’s probably nothing,” he answered. “I could’ve sworn we had an intruder here tonight who’d somehow wandered up this way. Perhaps you should go back downstairs whilst I check more of these rooms.”
Oh no! Serena’s eyes widened. Realizing she wasn’t in the clear yet, she spun around silently and scanned the bedchamber for a hiding place.
At once, she stole off to the far end of the room even as she heard the duke begin opening and closing several doors out in the hallway.
But she was in luck. The bedchamber she had chosen at random had a balcony through a dainty pair of French doors. She hurried toward it, but it immediately occurred to her that if Rivenwood checked out there, she’d be caught red-handed. No. Too obvious. As was the wardrobe—and the adjoining dressing room, for that matter.
Hurry! At her wit’s end, she simply concealed herself by stepping behind the voluminous drapes that framed the balcony doorway. Oh, this is the most ridiculous situation.
How her two oversized little brothers would have laughed at her antics if they could see her right now.
At least her hiding spot concealed her well enough. So much fabric cascaded down the lintel and pooled on the floor that she easily disappeared behind it by flattening herself against the wall.
She had barely got out of sight when the door banged open across the dark chamber.
Serena held her breath, waiting, while a few stealthy footfalls prowled into the room.
“What do you mean, an intruder?” Bianca asked in alarm, following him in. “A burglar? Shall I fetch some footmen to assist you?”
“No need,” Azrael said quietly.
Serena heard the wardrobe doors open, then close. She listened on the razor’s edge of suspense, heart thumping, as he crossed to search the dressing room she had rejected as her hiding spot.
“It doesn’t look like anyone’s in here to me,” Bianca said.
“No,” he murmured. “It doesn’t look that way. And yet…I have a sense about such things.”
He sounded close.
“Well, I don’t see anyone.” Relief must’ve made the songbird bold. “Just you and me and this big, empty bed,” she added coyly.
The duke’s answer was a low, self-conscious laugh. “How terribly convenient.”
“I think you purposely made up this whole intruder story to lure me up here,” the woman teased. “You crafty fellow.”
It sounded as though she had slipped her arms around him, but he must have evaded her. “Let me go and check the balcony.”
Serena held her breath and prayed for invisibility, fearing he’d hear her pulse pounding; she glimpsed him when he stepped up to the French doors, lifted the latch, and stepped outside.
Across the room, she heard Bianca shut the bedroom door to the hallway. Her plans were clear enough.
Satisfied there was no one hiding on the balcony, Rivenwood returned. Serena caught a brief glimpse of his puzzled frown as he stepped past her again, returning to the chamber.
Holding her breath, Serena stayed stock-still.
“Happy now?” Bianca drawled.
“I suppose.”
“Good. Because I’ve just taken off my halo.”
Serena frowned, hearing a rustle of fabric as the woman sashayed up to him.
“And now that I have you alone, my dear duke, I should like to ask you a rather impertinent question.”
“Yes?” he asked drily.
“What exactly did Netherford tell you about me and my various fields of expertise?”
He laughed uncomfortably. “Nothing, Miss Burns. I’m sure he is far too much of a gentleman to repeat whatever he might have done with any lady.”
“Oh, please!” She laughed. “Netherford is anything but a gentleman. And I’m no lady—much to your delight. So why don’t you begin by telling me exactly what you like? Or better yet, show me.”
Scandalized, Serena stared at the swath of fabric hanging right in front of her nose while the duke hesitated. “What about my guests?”
“Oh, they won’t miss you, so long as your staff keeps them in liquor. Besides, this won’t take long. But I guarantee I’ll send you back to the party with a smile on your face.”
Serena nearly choked, hearing this. Oh, Lord, they’re not really going to do this now, are they?
She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified at the sound of a low, needy male groan.
“You’re a very determined woman,” the duke whispered hoarsely.
“Darling, you have no idea.”
More kissing sounds. Stuck behind the curtain, Serena shook her head and rolled her eyes. Unbelievable.
Heavy breathing now.
“Come, sit down and let me give you a small demonstration of all the ways that I can please you, Your Grace.”
“I’m not sure this is the best idea…”
“You think too much. You need to let go.”
Oh, leave him alone, Serena thought in annoyance. You only want his money, anyway.
“You really don’t have to do this,” he said, while Serena heard them move to a nearby piece of furniture.
“Hush, you ne
ed this so badly. I can tell.”
Serena did not hear any further argument from His Grace. She bit her lip, thinking. Perhaps if they grew absorbed enough in their activities, she could escape unnoticed—slip right out onto the balcony, somehow manage to climb down, and run home.
The French doors were only a foot away, and she had no desire to stand here as a silent witness to their tryst. When Azrael groaned with pleasure, she grew positively desperate to get out of there.
Ever so cautiously, she peeked out from behind the curtain to ascertain the couple’s whereabouts.
She was in luck. The wing chair where a very wicked angel knelt before him was angled away from Serena, facing the door.
Serena doubted they would notice her, absorbed as they were in their pleasures, the white-clad harlot with her head buried in the duke’s lap.
She did not even want to think about what that was all about.
What mattered was that if she was extremely discreet, she believed she could tiptoe out of the room without being noticed. Sliding out from behind the curtain, she reached for the latch on the French door, and lifted it silently, her heart thumping.
As she moved clear of the curtain, she hated herself for it, but she was not immune to the shocking feelings that stirred to life in her body in response to what was going on over there.
Well, she was only human—besides, she thought, the Duke of Rivenwood was a beautiful man and had long fascinated her.
Despite his initial reluctance before Miss Burns’ aggressive pursuit, he had obviously let himself be persuaded by her determined efforts to impress him. The woman had untied his cravat and parted the top of his white shirt. His hands rested atop her blond hair as she pleasured him with deep, open-mouthed kisses and stroking hands.
Wide-eyed, Serena shuddered and turned away, stepping out into the cool night air. Later she would worry about trying to scrub that indecent image out of her mind. For now, she closed the balcony door behind her again without a sound—not that they’d have heard.
At once, she stepped out of sight, past the frame of the glass-paned doors to lean against the stone wall, her knees shaking, her belly quivering with her unwanted awareness of the man in the other room.
What a harlot that woman was! She decided that the proper response was blistering disapproval.
