Free Verum by Courtney Cole Page A

stores, but as I notice Dare duck from the main sidewalk onto an alley, my curiosity is piqued. I change course and follow him.
    It’s against my better judgment, but I can’t help myself.
    He moves fast, but I keep up.
    We wind between buildings on the narrow alleyways, and I almost lose him twice, but manage to keep him in my sights. I watch his wide shoulders sway ahead of me, before he cuts down another side street.
    I follow.
    The alley grows narrow and dark, the cobblestones rough and uneven. I lose sight of Dare among the shadows, then I trip. As I fumble to steady myself, I suddenly find myself yanked against the wall.
    Before I can breathe or scream, Dare’s face materializes in front of me, as thunderous and dark as it is handsome.
    “Hunting for something?” he asks bluntly, his voice sharp and low. His hands are on my shoulders, and I realize that I’m firmly pinned to the wall in front of him. He’s not hurting me, he’s just not letting me go.
    I’m restrained beneath his palms.
    I can feel his hips, I can feel his heat.
    I can feel the part of him that makes him a man.
    My own cheeks flush from it.
    “No,” I begin, then when he raises his eyebrows, I sigh. “Yes.”
    “What?” He doesn’t release me.
    “The truth,” I tell him honestly.
    “Have you ever heard the phrase what you don’t know might hurt you ?” Dare asks, his eyes laser sharp as he stares into mine.
    I nod.
    “Well, what you do know might hurt you too. Don’t snoop. You probably won’t like what you find. You have to let it come to you.”
    “I wasn’t… I wasn’t snooping,” I manage to offer. “I don’t know what I was doing.”
    Dare steps back, releasing me.
    He’s tall and slender and strong, and he makes me a bit breathless.
    “That’s probably your first issue,” he tells me. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll never get anywhere. Get out of this dark alley, Calla. It’s not safe here.”
    He points at the entrance, and when he does, I see them.
    The flowers he dropped on the ground.
    Roses, stargazers and carnations.
    My heart thuds and I do what I’m told. When I hit the sidewalk and emerge into the daylight, I turn, but he’s already gone. So are the flowers.
    I find the nearest shop, find my toiletry items and am back to the car well within the hour. I wait inside for Dare to return, and with each minute that passes, I wonder what I’ll say to him.
    But I don’t have to decide.
    Because finally Jones pokes his head into the back.
    “Apparently, Mr. DuBray isn’t coming right now. I’ll come back for him later.”
    I nod silently and allow Jones to drive me back to Whitley.
    Without even realizing it, I watch for the limo to go back out and return with Dare, but it never does. I don’t know how Dare manages to get back home.
    I know he does, though. Because in the middle of the night, I’m woken from a troubled sleep by a noise I can’t define. I lay for a minute, trying to wake up enough to clear my mind, and I finally realize that it’s piano music drifting through Whitley’s halls.
    I grab my robe and follow the haunting notes, finding myself in the salon.
    I linger quietly in the massive doorway, watching Dare play the piano with the grace of a master. His long fingers drift across the keys and he stares out the window while he plays, his eyes absently watching the moors outside through the windows. The notes of the piano are haunting and low, delicate and high, and everywhere in between.
    He doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way, because right now, while he thinks no one is watching, Dare DuBray looks absolutely and heart-wrenchingly vulnerable.
    He looks open and casual, thoughtful and real.
    It’s the first real emotion I’ve seen on him.
    It intrigues me, particularly since there isn’t a trace of his trademark arrogance.
    For a moment, I forget his rudeness from earlier. All I can think of is how very different he seems right now.
    This is