Page 74 of Her Beast

Whatwasall this?

Go back to your room. You can confront him in the morning.

No. Not until she explored a bit.

Julia cautiously made her way down the corridor, which was bisected by another hallway. She could go left or right.

She paused, trying to visualize the layout. To the right, she was pretty sure, would be her sitting room, bathroom, dressing room.

She turned right.

Only a smallish mirror looked into her sitting room, but she could see every part of the room through it.

With her heart thumping loudly enough that she could feel her pulse beating against the thin skin of her throat she moved slowly toward the next mirror, the one that would look into her bathing chamber.

Julia stopped in front of the floor to ceiling mirror across from her tub.

“Oh Lord.” She pressed a hand against her mouth. You could see the sink, the showerbath, and the huge bathtub.

ThankGodyou couldn’t see the commode, which was in a separate room.

A room with no mirrors.

Julia hurried down the corridors, not paying attention to where she was or where she’d been; there were windows—or mirrors—in every room she passed.

There was one in the room where the piano sat, one into the dining room off the lovely greenhouse—the huge mirror over the buffet—and several into empty bedchambers, and others looking into rooms she had never seen.

The hallways seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning until she was lost.

It was almost like a second house inside the first.

Thus far, every room had been either unoccupied or dark. Where were Malcolm’s rooms? Or were there no windows intohischambers. After all, it was his house, would he put these strange mirrors in his own rooms?

Julia was still pondering the matter when she turned down another corridor, this one slightly brighter than the rest.

Julia eased up to a window that was glowing faintly. It was smallish—like a looking glass that might hang beside a door.

She looked through it, gasped, and then stepped back.

It was Malcolm, and he was sitting at a huge desk, looking at papers.

Julia hesitated, and then sidled closer to look.

It was clearly his study. He had taken off his coat but still wore his mask and gloves.

She was looking at him from the left side, his damaged side, so all she saw was the black leather profile.

The desk surface was covered with neat stacks of paper and his hand flew over a document as he added comments of some sort and then wrote something at the bottom with a flourish—a signature, perhaps. He turned over the page without pausing and went on to the next. And the next, until the pile was finished and then he moved it aside and pulled another pile in front of him.

Julia could watch him for hours. He radiated pure concentration, moving through the documents like some sort of automaton. Never had she seen anyone who looked so focused. Or alone. Who looked so—

Suddenly, he put his pen in the stand and glanced down toward his lap before rolling his chair back and back and—

Julia gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth; his trousers were open and hishugeerect penis was jutting up from his lap.

And there was a hand on his thigh.

He rolled out a bit more and a woman emerged.

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