Page 18 of Dark Embrace

“Hello,” she called, feeling both wary andfoolish.

A long, thin shadow stretched across the floor, stopping at the closetthreshold.

Footsteps sounded from the distantcorridor.

With a groan, the door of the closet swung shut, trapping her inthedark.

For an instant, she stood motionless, heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears. Then she placed both palms against the door and shoved, expecting it to be stuck or locked. It swung openwithease.

Sarah surged into the alcove then the narrow hallway. No one wasthere.

The wind caught her hair, pulling strands free of her pins. She spun to see that a window in the main corridor was open, the draperyflapping.

With a shake of her head and a self-deprecating laugh, she went to drag the window shut and ensure the latch was set. Then she returned to the closet where she added a stack of torn strips of cloth to act as bandages, for she had noticed that the stores in the ward weredepleted.

Again, came the sensation that there was someone behind her, yet it was different than what she had felt earlier. Perhaps it was the faint scent of citrus that gave him away.Killian.

Her heart thudded in her breast and the walls of the small closet seemed to move closer still. It was not fear that touched her now; it was something else, something bigger and stronger, a stirring excitement that raced through her veins, dangerous and alluringatonce.

Resting her hands on the shelf, she swallowed, struggling to gather her wayward emotions. If she turned, he would be only a hand span away, and she would...What? Dare to touch him? To lay her hand on his arm and know the strengthofhim?

Strange how this moment so closely resembled a thousand others. The difference was,thosemoments had taken place in her dreams, or in the waking daze as she first broke from slumber’s embrace, alone in her bed, her thoughts focused on imagined shared moments where Killian came to her as a loverwould.

The touch of his hand on her cheek. The scent of his skin. The feel of his lips, warm, soft, as they brushed hers. Those were the secret, naive imaginings of a girl who had never been courted, never been kissed.Fantasies.

But it was one thing to dream those things in her secret heart, in the dark of night while she lay in her cold, narrow bed. Quite another to be faced with the reality. Standing here in the dark little closet with Killian behind her was a far differentthing.

Did he know? Could he tell that she had dreamed of him and watched him and fantasized about him for as long as she had been employed here at King’s College? Foolish, girlish dreams, because he sought her opinion and listened to her words, because he laughed at her dry humor, because he was beautiful and intelligent and mysterious, and far more intriguing than any other man she hadevermet.

Slowly, she turned, her heart pounding in anticipation, a wild, untrammeled rhythm, her mouth dry, hercheekshot.

She saw now that he was not so close as she had anticipated, and she did not know if she was disappointed or relieved. He was standing in the alcove beyond the door, the insubstantial light that leaked down the narrow hallway from the main corridor leaving his features obscured byshadow.

“Miss Lowell,” he greeted her, so polite, his tone low andsmooth.

“Mr. Thayne.” The words came out a cracked whisper, and she dropped her gaze to the tips of his polished boots. Always polished. His trousers always neat and pressed. His clothing impeccable and obviouslyexpensive.

An oddity. Physicians to the upper class might earn quite a respectable income but a surgeon was less likely to do so and was definitely a rung below on the social ladder. All the more so a surgeon who practiced in a poor hospital such as King’sCollege.

“Killian,”hesaid.

She blinked, believing she had said his name aloud. Then she realized it was an invitation to use his given name. An inappropriateinvitation.

“Mr. Thayne,” she said, her tone inviting no further discussion. There was danger in even the slightest intimacy with this man. Speaking the syllables of his given name aloud would only heighten thatdanger.

Rolling her lips inward, she swiped her tongue across the surface, and waited, wondering what he was doing here. He had followed her. She could have no doubt of that, but the reason for such actionescapedher.

“You defended me,” he said. “I would like toknowwhy.”

He asked only why she defended him, not why she lied for him. The differentiation did notescapeher.

Was there some import, some key relevance to his choice ofwords?

The shadows and his ever-present darkened spectacles masked his eyes and any secrets his expression mightreveal.

“Does it matter?” sheasked.

“You put yourself in a position of risk. That is…unacceptable,”hesaid.