Page 31 of Dark Embrace

She only did not realize precisely what it was that hunted her. But he knew. He sensed it out there, liketolike.

He wanted to kill it, to rip open itsthroat.

Not only because such was the instinct of his kind, though therewasthat.

No, he wanted it gone because it posed a threat to her.No one harms her.Noone.

Sheismine.

13

Killian filled the space,sucked the air from the room even as he energized it. His eyes locked on Sarah’s, glittering in the candlelight, and her heart beat so hard she thought it might fly apart. She dropped her gaze and toyed with the remnants of the match; she could not look at him, did not dare to look at him, for so many twined and tangledreasons.

“You are cold,” Killian observed, stepping closer, and before she could protest he had his cloak off his own shoulders and over hers, still warm from the heat of his body, smelling faintly of citrusandman.

His action highlighted one of the many reasons she admired him so. Because he would do something like that for her. Because he offered similar quiet kindnesses to many. She had seen it time and again on the ward with patients, and even with staff. Though his tone was usually cool and analytical, his treatment choices unaffected by emotion, his overtures at camaraderie with his contemporaries limited at best, there were small things he did that showed the warmth beneath his icyfaçade.

There had been the episode with Mrs. Carmichael when he had gifted her with the coats for her sons. And she had seen him slip coins in another night nurse’s apron while she slept, a shilling or two, enough to buy shrimps and tea and butter. He had sat the night through beside a mother whose daughter would never awaken, holding her hand as her child slipped away. And Sarah suspected it was Killian who had arranged for Mr. Scully’s sister to travel to Edinburgh to stay with his dead wide’s sister so neither would bealone.

Killian was an outwardly cold man with a flame inside him that he hid behind darkened spectacles and a mask of politereserve.

She wondered if he was lonely or simplyalone.

She stared up at him, feeling foolish and overwhelmed and so grateful for this small kindness. Tears pricked her eyes as she huddled in his cloak and that made her angry. She had no place in her life for self-pity, and after crying for three days straight when she found out her father was dead, she had thought herself moved past such a childish wasteoftime.

“Tell me why you came here tonight,” she said, pushing aside her maudlin thoughts and pitching her voice low so as not to carry through the thinwalls.

“Let us sit, Sarah.”Reasonable.Calm.

His words made her anxious. Sit where? On the low bed? Uneasy, she cast a glance exactly there, and for a moment, she could not understand what it was she saw on herpillow.

Then shedidunderstand and fear curdled in herbelly.

On her pillow was a small comfit box of sweetmeats tied with a bow and beside it, a length of lavenderribbon.

She gasped and stumbled back, the very familiarity of those things making them all the moresinister.

Someone had been here. In her room. Someone had left these unwelcome gifts. Someone who knew things about her. An icy chill slithered through her, distress clenching around herheart.

“What is it?” Killian asked sharply, drawing near. “You’ve gone white as the belly of adeadfish.”

Sarah’s gaze jerked to his, and despite the unease that gnawed at her she could not help the startled chuff of laughter evoked by hiswords.

“An appealing image.” Dead fish. She shuddered, thinking of her father, his body never fished from the Thames. Neverfound.

The shudders would not stop, though she willedthemto.

Killian closed his hands around her upper arms and kept them there as she trembled. She wished he would draw her closer, not just clasp her arms, but clasp her body tight againsthisown.

She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around her middle and holding tight. “You left me the pasty. That day in the linencloset.”

“I did.” He frowned. “You had noteaten.”

“And the orange? The ham sandwich? You left me thoseaswell?”

Still, he frowned. “The sandwich, yes.” The word was slow and drawn out, as though he took his time trying to read the underlying thoughts beneath her words. “Theorange,no.”

“Then who?” sheasked.