“They'd followed him up and had seen him open the door of a room not far from the head of the stairs. He hadn't so much as glanced their way but had gone in and shut the door. She'd walked on with Martha, past that door, down the corridor and around a corner to their chamber.Drawing in a tight-faintly excited-breath, she set out, quietly creeping back to the corner, her evening slippers allowing her to tiptoe along with barely a sound.Nearing the corner, she paused and glanced back along the corridor. Still empty. Reassured, she started to turn, intending to peek around the corner-A hard body swung around the corner and plowed into her. She stumbled back. Hard hands grabbed her, holding her upright.Her heart leapt to her throat. She looked up,saw only darkness.She opened her mouth-A palm slapped over her lips. A steely arm locked around her-locked her against a large, adamantine male body; she couldn't even squirm.Her senses scrambled. Strength, male heat, muscled hardness engulfed her.Then a virulent curse singed her ears.And she realized who'd captured her.Panic and sheer fright had tensed her every muscle; relief washed both away and she felt limp. The temptation to sag in his arms, to sink gratefully against him, was so nearly overwhelming that it shocked her into tensing again.He lowered his head so he could look into her face. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "What the hell are you doing?"His tone very effectively dragged her wits to the fore. He hadn't removed his hand from her lips. She nipped it.With a muted oath, he pulled the hand away.She moistened her lips and angrily whispered back, "Coming to see you, of course. What are you doing here?""Coming to fetch you-of course.""You ridiculous man." Her hands had come to rest on his chest. She snatched them back, waved them. "I'm hardly likely to come to grief over the space of a few yards!"Even to her ears they sounded like squabbling children.He didn't reply.Through the dark, he looked at her.She couldn't see his eyes, but his gaze was so intent, so intense that she could feel...her heart started thudding, beating heavier, deeper.Her senses expanded, alert in a wholly unfamiliar way.he looked at her...looked at her.Primitive instinct riffled the delicate hairs at her nape.Abruptly he raised his head, straightened, stepped back. "Come on."Grabbing her elbow, he bundled her unceremoniously around the corner and on up the corridor before him. Her temper-always close to the surface when he was near-started to simmer. If they hadn't needed to be quiet, she would have told him what she thought of such cavalier treatment.Breckenridge halted her outside the door to his bedchamber; he would have preferred any other meeting place, but there was no safer place, and regardless of all and everything else, he needed to keep her safe. Reaching around her, he raised the latch and set the door swinging. "In here."He'd left the lamp burning low. As he followed her in, then reached back and shut the door, he took in what she was wearing. He bit back another curse.She glanced around, but there was nowhere to sit but on the bed. Quickly he strode past her, stripped off the coverlet, then autocratically pointed at the sheet. "Sit there."With a narrow-eyed glare, she did, with the haughty grace of a reigning monarch. Immediately she'd sat, he flicked out the coverlet and swathed her in it.She cast him a faintly puzzled glance but obligingly held the enveloping drape close about her.He said nothing; if she wanted to think he was concerned about her catching a chill, so be it. At least the coverlet was long enough to screen her distracting angles and calves.Which really was ridiculous. Considering how many naked women he'd seen in his life, why the sight of her stockinged ankles and calves should so affect him was beyond his ability to explain.”