Page 32 of The Sinner's Bargain

The rough pad of his thumb swept across the shredded skin of my palm thoughtfully. “If you were trying to escape. The doors are the other way.”

My gaze lifted to the open hallway over his shoulder before his words registered. I met his watchful eyes.

“I wasn’t escaping. I was following the windows.”

An eyebrow lifted. “Windows?”

I wet my lips and peeked over my shoulder in the direction I’d gone. “The ones overlooking the lake.” I met his gaze again to find him watching me. Searching. Maybe he didn’t believe me. “I’m sorry I left the room. I shouldn’t have. It was just so beautiful. I won’t do it again.”

His lids lowered to study the gentle sweep of his thumb over my tender skin. “I told you to wait for me because this place is dangerous if you don’t know where you’re going. Most of it hasn’t been repaired in years.” His eyes were on me once more, steady, and watchful. “You can go anywhere you like, except the gardens.”

Allured by the husky baritone of his cadence and the coaxing lull of his eyes, I didn’t think before I asked, “Because of the roses?”

The question had his scrutiny sharpening. The rhythmic strokes of his thumb ceased. I realized my mistake too late.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I won’t go in the gardens.”

He was silent for too long before I felt him shift. His clothes rustled and his knees popped as he rose to his feet. Carefully, he took me with him. His hold tightened when I put my weight down and winced at the sharp pain in my hip.

Without a word, he bent at the waist and hoisted me up. My startled gasp was ignored as he held me much closer than anyone had ever held me. The heat of his arms, the strength of his chest sent a flood of heat prickling through me I wasn’t prepared for.

He carried me into the bathroom.

“I love this room,” I blurted, head tipping back to peer up at the glass ceiling.

“The bathroom?”

I nodded. “This whole house. It’s like something I read about in a book. I never want to...” I stopped before I truly humiliated myself by admitting I never wanted to leave.

My chin jerked down to find him watching me in that odd way again, only his face was so much closer. His eyes were bright and dark at the same time and his mouth was so...

A knock sounded somewhere behind us and the spell shattered. I dropped my gaze. My cheeks hot.

He sat me down gingerly next to the tub. “I’ll leave you fresh clothes on the bed. I’ll send Cyrus to bring you down.”

Without another word, he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

After the last several hours, it was nice washing it off. Between my filthy run through the gardens and scrambling on a dirty floor, the first blast of water ran down the drain brown. The bottoms of my feet were black, and a healthy smear of gray streaked up my leg from my morning walk and tumble. It took two passes with body wash that held the scent of pine and wildflowers, and a face cloth to fully scrub clean.

My hair was a different story.

The shampoo was his, a masculine blend of spices and musk. It filled the bathroom, my senses in a way that sent a warm flush through me. It wasn’t the salon recommended bottles Mother insisted I use, but something about it made me like it more.

Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I bit my lip and pressed my scalding cheeks into a fluffy towel.

“What’s wrong with me?” I groaned into the plush fabric.

I didn’t even know why I was embarrassed, only that it felt ... different in my stomach. I wasn’t even sure I liked the sensation, and decided I wasn’t ready to unpack it. I had too many other problems without adding my captor to the equation because that was what he was. He was holding me in that place. I wasn’t allowed to leave. Granted, I wouldn’t know where to go if I did. Without the backpack and someone to take me, I was stuck there anyway.

Resigned, I left the tub and crept into the bedroom with the towel securely fastened around me.

True to his promise, a new top with sleeves was left on the mattress. The hem was much shorter than the t-shirt, coming to a stop high up my thighs, but the sleeves dangled past my fingertips. I had to bunch them around my wrists to see my hands. The baggy article swallowed me in black fabric, but it was warm and comfortable. I especially liked the fleece lining brushing against my skin. None of my old clothes ever felt so ... cozy.

With my hair in damp curls around my shoulders and my feet still bare, I eased the door open.

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