Free Julianne MacLean by My Own Private Hero Page A

scared.”
    “You need to sleep.” He said it as if it were an explanation for her behavior just now.
    She knew he was about to leave—which was of course what he had to do. He couldn’t stay here with her all night.
    He continued to stare at her as if he were struggling with what to do, then he laid a hand on her upper arm. “Try to get some rest. No one is going to harm you tonight.”
    Anxiety pooled in her belly. “You’re not going to stay?”
    “You know I can’t do that.”
    She had the distinct feeling again that there was more to his refusal than simple propriety. It was the unspoken reason again…
    “You’ll be fine,” he said, standing. “I’ll be right down the hall, sleeping with one eye open.”
    She nodded because she had to, but her hands were still shaky.
    He walked to the door and took hold of the knob to close it behind him, but the knob felloff. He tried to move the door. One of the hinges dropped to the floor with a noisy clang.
    Adele sat up on her heels. “It won’t close?”
    “No.”
    Practicalities sank in. “I can’t sleep here without a lock on the door.”
    He glanced up at her briefly. He was not pleased. He returned his attention to the broken door, swinging it to and fro, then shook his head. “It’ll need a new hinge.”
    “A new hinge?”
    His voice was low and controlled. “You can have my room.”
    “But—”
    “No buts. Come.” From across the room, he held out a hand to her.
    She knew she had no choice but to comply, and was reminded of the way she had felt when she’d first seen him at the kidnapper’s cottage. He was not to be reckoned with that day, and he was not to be reckoned with now. He was tense and in no mood to argue with her, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. She wasn’t sure of anything where he was concerned.
    Regardless, she climbed out of bed barefoot, and crossed to him. With his hand at the small of her back, he escorted her down the hall to his room. He opened the door for her, and she slowly walked in and looked around.
    This was a man’s bedchamber—the place where Lord Alcester dressed and shaved. It smelled of sleep.
    Her gaze drifted to the bed, where the sheetsand covers were tangled together and spilling over the side, onto the floor. There was an indentation in the pillow. His clothes were tossed over a chair in the corner. There was an empty brandy glass on the bedside table. She could see the remaining traces of amber liquid in the bottom.
    She looked back at the unmade bed again. A tingling thrill quivered through her. She was going to lie in that bed and put her face on the pillow where he had just been sleeping.
    “You’ll be safe,” he said, moving past her to pull the blankets up and tidy the bed. “The lock on the door works, and so does the one on the window. There’s no one under the bed.” He checked, just to be sure. “And I’ll be listening.”
    He moved to the chair and picked up the shirt he’d worn at supper, and quickly shrugged into it. He relaxed a little after he did that, though he still seemed tense and a trifle impatient with her.
    “Thank you,” she said, not wanting him to think she didn’t appreciate everything he was doing for her. But still, she wished he did not have to leave.
    He crossed to the door and paused there a moment. “You’ll be fine here, Adele. I promise.”
    Without another word, he walked out and left her alone.
    She stood motionless in the center of the room, listening to the sound of his footsteps tapping down the hall. A second later, everything was quiet.
    She crossed to the door and turned the key in the lock. Struggling to remind herself thatDamien was still nearby, she moved to the bed and pulled the covers back. She gazed down at the white sheets with the moonlight spreading upon them—wrinkled and billowy in places from having been slept on this very night. She swallowed hard and climbed in, pulling the heavy blankets up over herself and resting her arms on