Free Larceny and Lace by Annette Blair Page B

in love with him, I thought again, as I spun into a nightmare I resisted, my world dark, my captor rough, my trust shattered . . . my body in a freefall. I’'ll die when I hit bottom.
    Please let me die.
    Fifteen Fashion is as profound and critical a part of the social life of man as sex, and is made up of the same ambivalent mixture of irresistible urges and inevitable taboos.
    —--RENE KONIG
     
    “"Madeira, Mad, you’'re crying.”"
    With the scent of smoke in my nostrils and the hard, cold earth at my back, I felt myself being lifted and rocked against a hard chest.
    Hands large but tender stroked my hair. Strong arms enclosed me in a safe cocoon. Maybe I didn’'t die.
    I clung to my haven, but as I trembled from the cold, those same hands chafed my arms and my back. I warmed but held no control over my sobs, wasn’'t even sure they were mine.
    Did they belong to the lady in the well?
    Isobel.
    Warmth began to seep deep into my bones, awareness, too, just enough to appreciate the heart beating beneath my ear.
    “"I’'m alive. You smell like smoke. You should quit.”"
    “"I hate to disappoint you, Mad, but it’'s me.”"
    “"You hate me.”"
    “"I hate what you said. Not you. We were kids.”"
    “"You can be sweet.”"
    “"You’'re talking in your sleep. I’'ll ignore that.”"
    I didn’'t want to leave this new dream. “"Nick smells different. Good, too, but different.”"
    “"You think I smell good, after all that smoke? And you know it’'s me?”"
    “"You wear Armani’'s Black Code. You’'re taller, broader than Nick.”" I opened my eyes, despite myself, and raised my head. “"Lytton?”"
    “"You said you knew.”"
    “"In my sleep, maybe, but not awake.”"
    “"Was I at the bottom of that well with you?”" he asked, smoothing my hair one last time as his hand fell away. “"When you were asleep, I mean. You seemed to think I was.”" The well? Oh God, the well. “"My head hurts.”" I sat up. “"The fire! My building?”"
    “"The fire’'s out.”" Werner straightened, too, but I was still sitting on his lap.
    “"You’'re safe. So’'s your building and your cat. It’'s nearly four in the morning.”"
    “"Hmm. I got up at four to go to work in New York two days ago, and I haven’'t slept since, except for now.”"
    “"Three hours sleep in two days?”"
    “"Mmm.”" I cuddled back into him. “"G’'night.”" Slowly, reluctantly, his arms came back around me and he rested his chin on my head. “"I couldn’'t leave with the light still on up here. Let me take you home?”" The idea of moving seemed impossible. I shook my head against his chest. “"I’'ll just sleep here.”"
    “"In my arms? Or on the sofa?”"
    I raised my head. “"The sofa. Of course, I meant the sofa.”" My eyes closed without my permission. I knew it, but I couldn’'t do anything about it. Lytton’'s heartbeat began, again, to lull me.
    He stood, carrying me with him.
    “"What are you doing?”"
    “"I’'m going to put you in my car and take you home.”"
    “"Where do you live?”"
    His heart beneath my ear skipped a beat. “"No. To your home.”"
    “"My father won’'t like that you arrested me.”"
    I heard the rumble of a chuckle beneath my cheek as the lights went off behind my eyelids.
    “"My cat,”" I said, drifting.
    I closed my eyes tight against a new flash of light.
    “"Chakra? Hey, what have you got, there? Madeira? We have to talk.”"
    “"Not tonight, ’'kay?”"
    Werner lowered me, so I had to hold on tight to his neck or fall, then I felt Chakra’'s fur beneath my chin.
    “"Tomorrow then,”" he said.
    “"Whatever,”" I whispered, riding a cloud.
    More lifting, up and down, drifting. Someone mumbling about keys, me holding tight again.
    “"Which room’'s yours?”"
    “"Hmm?”"
    Light pricked at my eyelids, so I closed them tighter.
    “"What is the meaning of this, Detective?”"
    “"Detective who?”" I asked, my eyes still closed. “"Dad?”"
    “"Madeira, are you