She thought to step back, would have run to the far side of the room if it wouldn’t point out clearly to him how much he disturbed her. The little space she did gain made no difference, though, because he was doing it again, staring. And such heat in those amber eyes! She had the impression of being completely stripped for his perusal. And the embarrassment was the same as if she really were standing there naked before him.

“Your jewels.”

She wondered briefly if he’d just said it, or was repeating himself. She wouldn’t be the least surprised.

“Excuse me?”

“I was afraid you might forget.” And the look he gave her now said he’d been right, she was a complete scatterbrain. “But I don’t want to be indirectly responsible for causing you any more distress, which would be the case if your jewels turn up missing.”

That jogged her memory. “Oh, yes, the new servants that haven’t proven themselves yet. Just a moment.”

She moved quickly to her three large trunks, which had been stacked neatly like a pyramid at the foot of the bed. Rummaging through the one on top didn’t reveal her jewel box, but unfortunately, it was the heaviest trunk, since it contained her personal books. This would have been no problem if she had time to unpack it first. But with the baron waiting at the door, it was necessary to move it out of the way to get into the two trunks below it.

She knew very well she couldn’t lift the thing herself, but she could drag it off the top with a little effort, and started to do so. But the baron’s arms were suddenly on both sides of her, reaching for the handles on the ends of the trunk to move it for her.

He should have said he would do it. He should have let her move out of the way first. Her heart slammed in her chest. She was trapped between him and the trunks, could feel his chest against her back, his breath on her neck. She was going to faint, she knew it, knew it, was going to expire right there on the spot.

“Sorry,” he said after an unbearably long moment, and he moved one arm to let her out of his trap.

Again her instinct was to bolt to the other side of the room, far, far away from him. She desperately wanted to, but she refused to let him think she was afraid of him, which was what he would surely think. He was the enemy, after all. And she wasn’t afraid, not really. What she felt was far more disturbing than fear.