And he was reminded all over again why. Because this? This was bloody awful, this worrying about Myrtle and fearing for her as he did now.

Reaching the back of the kitchen door, he gave his head a shake, dislodging the unhelpful thoughts parading through his mind.

Regardless, he had come to . . . worry about the lady. As such, he simply needed to get in, verify she was safe, and then get himself out.

With that thought fueling him, Val let himself through another door, Horace following closely at his side, releasing a little whine.

Val lifted the two fingers closest his thumb, issuing that silent directive which immediately quieted the dog.

Side by side, they walked the halls of Myrtle’s family’s home, and as they did, Val’s gaze moved over the shadows, and once again he strained to hear . . . anything. Any hint of sound indicating the lady had found herself in harm’s way, some sign that she even now faced down a pair of robbers who’d intended to go after her father’s curiosity collection.

Only . . . with each corridor he passed and each door he opened, the quiet remained heavy.

At last, he reached the parlor she’d fashioned as her bedroom.

Horace promptly sank onto his haunches and stared eagerly at the paneled door.

And the sheer lunacy of what he did . . . hit him, nearly knocking him back on his heels.

My god, she’d gotten to him. Her overactive imagination had proven contagious, stealing all logic, and now had Val seeing monsters in shadows.

Why, it was entirely possible she’d been walking Horace outside for the evening, or letting him out, and the dog had simply bounded off, back to Val’s.

Still, he’d come this way and should at the very least . . . announce himself, verify with his own eyes that she was tucked under those heavy coverlets and peacefully resting.

Feeling entirely foolish, he opened the door.

His eyes immediately went to the sofa.

The blanket lay in a tangle upon the floor, as if the person who’d occupied that makeshift bed had jumped up in a hurry.

His pulse picking up its nervous rhythm once more, he looked to the window seat where he’d found her so many times these past days, that other spot that, as long as he looked out across the courtyard, he’d forever see her standing at.

Empty.

Terror licked at his senses all over again, and he hastened inside . . . shutting the door behind himself and Horace.

Even having seen with his own eyes that her bed was empty, Val made his way over there, praying he’d find her in that mass of blankets.

He reached for them, catching them in his fingers, when suddenly a flash of metal caught the corner of his eye.

Val dived out of the way—

Too late. But still swiftly enough that the poker for the hearth glanced off the side of his thigh.