Page 15 of The Secrets of Roan Island

Noah lets out a dry laugh. “There’s no risk, because my father will never grant you the money you request.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Come now, Miss Rose, you’re not a fool. You heard my father last night. Does he seem like a man interested in women’s studies?”

“He gives generously to the woman’s sanitorium.”

Noah turns his face away from me. The muscles in his arm tighten under my hand. He doesn’t say anything more in response, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m right and there is a chance that I might get the donation just as the sanatorium did,or if it’s because he’s so assured of his position he doesn’t feel the need to argue with me.

I try to think of something else to say as we continue down the corridor, a way to stir the conversation back to life, but I can’t think straight. I refuse to believe that I will fail in my task. Without David, I’m dependent on my job at the university, and if I can’t bring in the necessary funds for my research…

No, I can’t think of that now.

Noah’s hand comes to the small of my back, directing me down a different hallway than the one we used to get to dinner.

Unlike the other passageways, this one has no gas lamps, only candles placed far apart on mounted candle holders. They cast eerie shadows that stretch like cloaked figures from one flickering light to the other. In between, large gaps of darkness lie like open holes ready to pull me into their depths.

My steps falter, the dark of the hallway rushing toward me and my free hand shoots out, trying to find something to hang onto. My breath picks up, coming in sharp inhales and quick exhales that don’t fully fill or leave my lungs when I try to let them go.

“What is it?” Noah asks, his hand pressing more firmly into my back, holding me steady. A lone anchor in the dark.

I shake my head, unable to speak. My lungs strain and burn as the darkness reaches to grab hold. Closes around me. Takes me. I can no longer feel Noah, my senses numb. I’m in that small room. Hidden from the light. Captive to the darkness, where I’ll meet my end.

“Miss Rose?” Noah’s concern breaks through my fear, cracking it like a hammer breaks ice. I blink and shake my head, trying to clear the morbid memory.

He turns me, tilting my chin so my eyes meet his. I’m not alone.

“Are you alright?” His voice is stern, but not cold. A weight bringing me back into my body.

“Fine.” I gasp, my lungs finally filling. “I’m fine.”

His examination of me is acute. He probably thinks I’m mad. David surely did whenever I had one of my “episodes.” He never understood how trauma can linger. Which isn’t surprising, since he’s led a golden life.

But there’s no accusation in Noah’s gaze, no superiority or judgment. “Are you okay to continue?”

“I’m alright.” I offer a reassuring smile. “But… I’m not ready to go back to my rooms yet.”

Being alone is the last thing I want right now.

He hesitates, then guides me quickly forward, his palm never leaving my back as we descend a curved stairwell, then cross a room lined with stained glass windows

At the end of a stone corridor, Noah pushes open a final door and leads me into the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.

Filled with a myriad of plant life, it’s humid and warm. Apart from the door where we entered, the entire room is paneled glass, revealing the two crescent moons hanging like a set of broken pearls against a black cloth sky. There are no lamps or candles here either, but the light of the moons provides me with a sense of expansiveness that I need right now.

I let out a slow breath. Then another.

“Does… that… happen to you often?”

Not normally. Not in years. Please, don’t look at me differently now.“It’s nothing.”

His gaze narrows, but a hint of a smile comes to his lips. “Do you lie often?”

“No more than the next person.” I step away from him and move toward a grouping of ferns near the window. Placing a palm on my heart, I distract myself from the lingering fear by studying the mystifying man beside me. Few men have seen mein that state, and all have responded harshly.Snap out of it,they say.Pull yourself together. Stop being so emotional.

But not Noah Roan. I get the sense he’s haunted by his own demons. “And you, Mr. Roan? Do you hide things?”

“Yes.”

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