talked.
She paused at the end of the hallway. She stood there a moment and then she turned and tiptoed toward the library. Holding her breath, she pressed her ear to the door, frowning as she strained to hear what was being said.
"Good evening, Constable Drummond." Alesandro's voice came to her, strong and deep, filled with self-assurance.
"Dr. Avallone."
"Please, be seated."
"No, thank you."
She could almost visualize the two of them, facing each other in front of the hearth, the constable as short and squat as a mushroom, Alesandro tall and elegant.
"You wished to see me?" Alesandro sounded faintly bored.
"Yes, I would like an account of your activities tonight."
"I was treating the butcher's wife." Alesandro's voice turned soft, mesmerizing. "She cut her hand on a knife and lost a great deal of blood."
"Yes," the constable repeated, his voice strangely flat. "The butcher's wife."
"I was with her most of the evening," Alesandro went on in the same hypnotic tone. "She will be on her feet again in a few days. As soon as her condition was stable, I came home. You were waiting for me. We took tea together in front of the fire. Mrs. Thornfield brought us a tray of bread and cheese. You questioned me quite thoroughly."
"Yes, thoroughly," the constable repeated.
"My answers satisfied you completely."
"Completely," the constable agreed.
"There is no reason for you to come here again."
"There is no reason for me to come here again."
"I trust there are no further questions," Alesandro said briskly.
"What? Oh, no. No further questions. Thank you for your time, Dr. Avallone. And don't worry, we'll catch this madman, whoever he might be."
"Yes, of course you will," Alesandro said. "Come, I will see you out."
Lifting her skirts, Analisa turned and ran down the hallway toward the parlor.
"Heavens, child," the housekeeper exclaimed as she burst into the room. "Are you being chased?"
"No, of course not." Blowing out a breath, she turned and peeked out the door in time to see Alesandro bid the constable a final good night.
Alesandro stood there a moment, staring out into the darkness before he shut the door, and then he was striding toward her.
"My lord," she murmured as he entered the room.
"Come with me." He didn't wait for an answer; didn't look to see if she followed him.
She trailed in his wake, her gaze fixed on his back. How tall and broad he was. Elegant. Handsome. Forbidding, at times.
He opened the door to the library, held it for her, then closed it firmly behind him.
"So," he said abruptly. "What did you hear?"
She looked up at him with feigned innocence, her heart pounding erratically. "Hear, my lord?"
"Do not play childish games with me, Analisa. I know you were listening at the door."
A guilty flush warmed her cheeks. "What did you do to him?"
"I merely planted a suggestion in his mind."
"You hypnotized him?"
He shrugged. "It is fortunate that his mind is susceptible to suggestion. I had no wish to kill him." He spoke as if it were a matter of no consequence, but his eyes belied his calm demeanor.
She bit down on her lower lip. He had told her before that he had killed in defense of his own life, but to hear him speak of it so openly chilled her to the marrow of her bones.
"I have distressed you."
"Oh, no… well, yes. I mean… would you really have killed him?"
"If I thought it necessary. Do not be fooled, Analisa. As I told you, I am a killer by nature, a predator."
"Alesandro—"
"It is late," he said quietly.
It wasn't that late, she thought. He was just giving her an excuse to leave the room. And, coward that she was, she took it.
"Yes, it is," she said. "Good night."
"Good night, Analisa."
She didn't see him the next night, or the next. As always when he wasn't there, she felt a keen sense of loss, of emptiness. She picked at her food, couldn't concentrate on her lessons, slept poorly. She had disappointed him in some way she didn't quite understand, she thought. He had
She paused at the end of the hallway. She stood there a moment and then she turned and tiptoed toward the library. Holding her breath, she pressed her ear to the door, frowning as she strained to hear what was being said.
"Good evening, Constable Drummond." Alesandro's voice came to her, strong and deep, filled with self-assurance.
"Dr. Avallone."
"Please, be seated."
"No, thank you."
She could almost visualize the two of them, facing each other in front of the hearth, the constable as short and squat as a mushroom, Alesandro tall and elegant.
"You wished to see me?" Alesandro sounded faintly bored.
"Yes, I would like an account of your activities tonight."
"I was treating the butcher's wife." Alesandro's voice turned soft, mesmerizing. "She cut her hand on a knife and lost a great deal of blood."
"Yes," the constable repeated, his voice strangely flat. "The butcher's wife."
"I was with her most of the evening," Alesandro went on in the same hypnotic tone. "She will be on her feet again in a few days. As soon as her condition was stable, I came home. You were waiting for me. We took tea together in front of the fire. Mrs. Thornfield brought us a tray of bread and cheese. You questioned me quite thoroughly."
"Yes, thoroughly," the constable repeated.
"My answers satisfied you completely."
"Completely," the constable agreed.
"There is no reason for you to come here again."
"There is no reason for me to come here again."
"I trust there are no further questions," Alesandro said briskly.
"What? Oh, no. No further questions. Thank you for your time, Dr. Avallone. And don't worry, we'll catch this madman, whoever he might be."
"Yes, of course you will," Alesandro said. "Come, I will see you out."
Lifting her skirts, Analisa turned and ran down the hallway toward the parlor.
"Heavens, child," the housekeeper exclaimed as she burst into the room. "Are you being chased?"
"No, of course not." Blowing out a breath, she turned and peeked out the door in time to see Alesandro bid the constable a final good night.
Alesandro stood there a moment, staring out into the darkness before he shut the door, and then he was striding toward her.
"My lord," she murmured as he entered the room.
"Come with me." He didn't wait for an answer; didn't look to see if she followed him.
She trailed in his wake, her gaze fixed on his back. How tall and broad he was. Elegant. Handsome. Forbidding, at times.
He opened the door to the library, held it for her, then closed it firmly behind him.
"So," he said abruptly. "What did you hear?"
She looked up at him with feigned innocence, her heart pounding erratically. "Hear, my lord?"
"Do not play childish games with me, Analisa. I know you were listening at the door."
A guilty flush warmed her cheeks. "What did you do to him?"
"I merely planted a suggestion in his mind."
"You hypnotized him?"
He shrugged. "It is fortunate that his mind is susceptible to suggestion. I had no wish to kill him." He spoke as if it were a matter of no consequence, but his eyes belied his calm demeanor.
She bit down on her lower lip. He had told her before that he had killed in defense of his own life, but to hear him speak of it so openly chilled her to the marrow of her bones.
"I have distressed you."
"Oh, no… well, yes. I mean… would you really have killed him?"
"If I thought it necessary. Do not be fooled, Analisa. As I told you, I am a killer by nature, a predator."
"Alesandro—"
"It is late," he said quietly.
It wasn't that late, she thought. He was just giving her an excuse to leave the room. And, coward that she was, she took it.
"Yes, it is," she said. "Good night."
"Good night, Analisa."
She didn't see him the next night, or the next. As always when he wasn't there, she felt a keen sense of loss, of emptiness. She picked at her food, couldn't concentrate on her lessons, slept poorly. She had disappointed him in some way she didn't quite understand, she thought. He had
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