scrape backwards and footsteps coming toward her. What if they could tell she had been listening all this time? Her heart was thudding so loudly in her chest, she was certain they must be able to hear it. What had Tobias meant when he’d said it would be easier to … what? Do away with her?
They see me as a threat of some kind. A complication.
Had fear registered on her face? A shadow moved across her and she swallowed a scream.
‘Jessie?’ It was Rob. Despite her best efforts to control her breathing, it was rapid and shallow. He would know she’d heard everything.
His hand was on her knee. ‘Jessie lass, wake up.’
Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Rob’s face was very close to her own.
‘It’s all right, lass. You must have been having a nightmare.’
Jessie nodded. Yes, this was a nightmare . A waking nightmare. And the cold fear gripping her heart was all too real.
‘I’ll carry you to bed,’ Rob said softly. ‘You’ll sleep better there.’
As he effortlessly lifted her up, she started to protest, but he simply gave her his lopsided grin. ‘It’s no trouble at all, lass.’ His voice was a caress along her ear. ‘You don’t want to be putting weight on that ankle yet. You’ve been hurt enough for one day.’ His tone and expression were completely incongruous with what he had just been saying to Tobias. It unnerved her further. How could Rob dispassionately discuss holding her captive, perhaps even disposing of her, one moment, then bestow upon her a charming smile the next? With equal measures of trepidation and disappointment welling within her, she realised Mr Rob Burnley—she doubted that was his real name—was dangerous after all. A true wolf in sheep’s clothing.
He carried her through to the main bedchamber and placed her gently on the large bed so that she reclined against the pillows. Then without invitation, he sat down beside her. ‘I’m afraid the bedding is a bit dusty and probably needs a good airing. I don’t think this room has been used for a long time, but at least it’s warm and dry.’
Jessie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Was Rob trying to intimidate her by sitting so close? However, there was no threat evident in his voice or expression and since she’d been injured, he’d shown her nothing but kindness. But was it all a ruse? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security whilst he worked out how to dispose of the problem she was assumed to be? She was so confused and heartsick. And frightened. She dropped her gaze to the bedclothes. She couldn’t look at him.
Rob continued to sit on the edge of the bed, watching her. Was he waiting for her to speak? She suddenly wanted to reassure him that she wasn’t a threat, that she had no allegiance to Simon Grant whatsoever. She didn’t want him to believe she was in a relationship of some kind with him, despite what Rob had thought he’d seen. She wanted him to know the truth—that the thought of being Simon’s lover made her sick.
But how could she begin to speak of such awkward, degrading things when she hardly knew Rob? And would he believe her? He had no reason to trust her. Perhaps he would think she was denying a tie to Simon simply to save her own skin. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip whilst she tried to work through all the twists and turns of her thinking.
Perhaps if she just conveyed to him how grateful she was for his care. Surely if he understood she did not take his intervention for granted—that she felt indebted to him—it would make him pause to consider the possibility that she might actually be an ally, at least on some level.
With some effort, she pushed herself upright against the pillows and tried to ignore the press of Rob’s long muscular leg against her own through the folds of the plaid. She needed her wits about her. She drew a shaky breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘I … I want to thank you for helping me, Rob. You have been nothing but kind
They see me as a threat of some kind. A complication.
Had fear registered on her face? A shadow moved across her and she swallowed a scream.
‘Jessie?’ It was Rob. Despite her best efforts to control her breathing, it was rapid and shallow. He would know she’d heard everything.
His hand was on her knee. ‘Jessie lass, wake up.’
Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Rob’s face was very close to her own.
‘It’s all right, lass. You must have been having a nightmare.’
Jessie nodded. Yes, this was a nightmare . A waking nightmare. And the cold fear gripping her heart was all too real.
‘I’ll carry you to bed,’ Rob said softly. ‘You’ll sleep better there.’
As he effortlessly lifted her up, she started to protest, but he simply gave her his lopsided grin. ‘It’s no trouble at all, lass.’ His voice was a caress along her ear. ‘You don’t want to be putting weight on that ankle yet. You’ve been hurt enough for one day.’ His tone and expression were completely incongruous with what he had just been saying to Tobias. It unnerved her further. How could Rob dispassionately discuss holding her captive, perhaps even disposing of her, one moment, then bestow upon her a charming smile the next? With equal measures of trepidation and disappointment welling within her, she realised Mr Rob Burnley—she doubted that was his real name—was dangerous after all. A true wolf in sheep’s clothing.
He carried her through to the main bedchamber and placed her gently on the large bed so that she reclined against the pillows. Then without invitation, he sat down beside her. ‘I’m afraid the bedding is a bit dusty and probably needs a good airing. I don’t think this room has been used for a long time, but at least it’s warm and dry.’
Jessie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Was Rob trying to intimidate her by sitting so close? However, there was no threat evident in his voice or expression and since she’d been injured, he’d shown her nothing but kindness. But was it all a ruse? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security whilst he worked out how to dispose of the problem she was assumed to be? She was so confused and heartsick. And frightened. She dropped her gaze to the bedclothes. She couldn’t look at him.
Rob continued to sit on the edge of the bed, watching her. Was he waiting for her to speak? She suddenly wanted to reassure him that she wasn’t a threat, that she had no allegiance to Simon Grant whatsoever. She didn’t want him to believe she was in a relationship of some kind with him, despite what Rob had thought he’d seen. She wanted him to know the truth—that the thought of being Simon’s lover made her sick.
But how could she begin to speak of such awkward, degrading things when she hardly knew Rob? And would he believe her? He had no reason to trust her. Perhaps he would think she was denying a tie to Simon simply to save her own skin. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip whilst she tried to work through all the twists and turns of her thinking.
Perhaps if she just conveyed to him how grateful she was for his care. Surely if he understood she did not take his intervention for granted—that she felt indebted to him—it would make him pause to consider the possibility that she might actually be an ally, at least on some level.
With some effort, she pushed herself upright against the pillows and tried to ignore the press of Rob’s long muscular leg against her own through the folds of the plaid. She needed her wits about her. She drew a shaky breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘I … I want to thank you for helping me, Rob. You have been nothing but kind
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