Free Dark Surrender by Erica Ridley Page A

or the leanly muscled figure beneath the costume. His movements were graceful, his every gesture confident and purposeful.
    His mouth looked as though it had been carved specifically for the art of kissing. And his hands—
    Mr. Waldegrave leapt to his feet. His empty teacup clattered gracelessly against the china. “Do excuse me. I must return to my office. There’s much to be done.”
    “I—I—I . . . ” She gaped up at him, startled. “That is, of course you must. I don’t mean to keep you from your work.”
    “And you shan’t.” He strode from the room, pausing at the doorway only long enough to add, “I am accustomed to dining with my daughter. The rest of my time is spent in my office. Don’t expect to see me often.”
    Violet nodded. She did not expect to be friends, and she certainly didn’t expect her strange fantasies to materialize into anything more than passing insanity. She had more than enough on her mind for the moment, not the least of which was the punishment for murder.
    Above all, she needed to stay employed long enough to buy her freedom.
     
    #
     
    To Violet’s surprise, Mr. Waldegrave himself appeared the following morning to escort her through the catacombs to the outbuilding housing the library, and then on to her new pupil.
    She had assumed he’d be far too busy to deal with a task so easily delegated to a staff member, especially given he so rarely emerged from his office. However, she was beginning to suspect he didn’t delegate any tasks that pertained to his child.
    Somehow, walking together with the light of a single candle only made her more aware of every inch of him. How the narrow tunnels ensured their bodies remain a hairsbreadth apart. How the hem of her gown rustled against the leg of his breeches. How the perfect harmony of their footfalls faltered every time her sleeve brushed his waistcoat.
    She dropped behind until he strode an arm’s length ahead. Nothing was amiss, she assured herself. Her discomfiture was due to her embarrassment over thoughts of kissing the night before. Everything was strange and new. She was wholly unused to strolling alongside a man, much less inadvertently rub up against one. That he was a well-turned gentleman—and her employer—only heightened her sense of awareness.
    Although, now that she hung back, she was quickly becoming more aware of the catacombs around her. Once they reached the library, she would not be eager to trek back through the catacombs to Lillian’s sanctuary. Without Mr. Waldegrave’s body heat at her side, the chill from the stone-and-earth walls seeped through the worn material of her gown. Instead of seeing his fingers curled about the taper, she could only see his silhouette as shadows danced around them. The more she tried not to think about the bones buried in the walls, the more she regretted falling even a hairsbreadth behind.
    When she could no longer withstand the tomblike silence, she hurried back to his side and asked, “Would it be better to have lessons in the library?”
    “Absolutely not,” he snapped, startling her. His voice softened. “Yes. It would have been. Not anymore.” His pace slowed. “Once, this abbey was God’s house. There were no locks on any doors, so that believers could enter how and when they chose. Four years ago, I brought Lillian there so she could select her own volume of bedtime stories. While I was retrieving favorite authors, she escaped through a side door and into the morning sun.” He shuddered at the memory. “I almost lost her that day. The next time she visited the library, she flew into a rage upon discovering the exterior door locked tight. She ripped apart countless priceless volumes I’d hoped would become part of her personal collection and then attacked a young lady’s maid who dared to detain her. Since that time, only I have attended my daughter. And until I am convinced she will treat herself and her surroundings with respect, I shall not lead her