Page 24 of The Secrets of Roan Island

But each painting is firmly fixed to the wall. As I go, I check the wallpaper for any strange seams or misplaced drafts. I check the wall sconces, gently pulling on each one to see if there are trap doors.

Nothing.

As I near the portrait of Noah’s sister at the end of the hall, her white dress glinting in the low light, the hum of voices grabs my attention. Someone is coming.

I panic, looking left and right for a hiding place. It’s immediately clear that my only option is to conceal myself inside a room. I just hope it’s not someone’s bedroom.

As the voices draw near, I try the closest door. Locked. Darting to the next, I fiddle with the engraved, gold knob. Relief slides through me when the handle turns, and I slip inside, easing the door shut. To avoid falling apart, I keep my hand on the doorknob, the other gripping the candelabra, and pressmy forehead to the carved wood, steadying myself through a connection to something solid and real.

Though the voices are muted, I immediately recognize Noah’s—or rather, his tone. The deep timbre. The clipped way he ends his sentences. His voice lures me like a Venus flytrap lures an insect with its scent.

“Why not just cancel the boat altogether.”

“Probably because Mrs. Darning said she needed more wine and whiskey for the new moon party.”

New moon party?This is the first I’ve heard of a party, but the new moon is the day after tomorrow. Is this why Noah doesn’t want me here? Does he think I won’t fit in with the kinds of uppity guests a family like the Roan’s would invite to a dinner party?

“So you think Mrs. Darning changed the time? Why?”

“No. My guess is still Father,” Jafeth says. “But what does it matter?”

I can perfectly picture Jafeth’s casual shrug as he says the words.

“It matters because I don’t want a repeat of today,” Noah snaps. “Do you know where he’s sleeping tonight?”

“Of course not.” There’s a bitter guffaw from Jafeth. “Like he would tell any of us.”

Noah curses. “She should have been on that boat.”

Jafeth answers with a laugh that’s as menacing as it is jovial. “Can’t say I’m disappointed. I’ve been wanting to try her.”

A loud thud shakes the wall beside the door, and I lurch away, covering my mouth to keep from crying out.

“Don’t touch her,” Noah growls, louder now.

The sound grips my belly in a vice and drifts lower, between my thighs. It’s a feeling I don’t want to acknowledge, but can’t ignore. The idea of Noah getting so protective over me lights an unsettling fire inside my chest.

Jafeth snickers. “Touchy. Touchy.”

Another thud gives me the impression that Noah is slamming Jafeth repeatedly against the wall. “I swear if you go anywhere near her at the new moon party, I’ll rip your beating hearts out.”

Jafeth laughs even harder, as if their fight is nothing more than a game. They must have moved further down the hall because whatever is said next is too muffled for me to understand.

Carefully, I crack the door and peek into the hall. Noah and Jafeth are nowhere to be seen, but the gilded frame on the portrait at the end of the hall momentarily glints with light, as if it moved. A door?

“I knew you would be entertaining,” a voice says from behind me.

Yelping, I spin, heart pounding, palms sweaty as I struggle to keep hold of the candelabra. Its light illuminates Hammish Roan as he sits up in bed with a wicked smile.

I’ve been wanting an audience with him for weeks, but this isn’t how I envisioned it. My mind races with explanations for my presence in his bedchamber, a room that is nothing like the older gentleman. The chaise at the foot of the bed is a light pink. The walls are covered in floral wallpaper. Even the bedding is a soft rose color.

Before I can come up with an excuse for being here, for eavesdropping on his sons, he points to an armchair next to the bed and says, “Tell me, Miss Rose, how are you finding your stay at our estate?”

“W-what?”

He lights a gaslamp on his nightstand. “Has your time here been profitable so far?”

Is he really trying to hold a casual conversation with me in his bedclothes? As much as I want an audience with Mr. Roan,I have no desire to talk with him in his bedroom well after midnight. I would much rather see what’s behind the painting where Noah and Jafeth disappeared. But Hammish Roan has been avoiding me, so maybe I can at least use this opportunity to my benefit.

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