“Not the money and the power?”
“Well, those, too,” he admitted, “but right now I’m most enjoying the eccentricity. The bruises help the cause, don’t you think?”
She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her tea.
“Perhaps a scar,” he mused, turning to present her with his cheek. “What do you think? Right along here. I could—”
But Anne did not hear the rest of his words. She only saw his hand, slicing through air from his temple to his chin. A long, furious diagonal, just like—
She saw it—George’s face as he ripped the bandages from his skin in his father’s study.
And she felt it, the awful plunge of the knife when it had gone through his skin.
She turned away quickly, trying to breathe. But she couldn’t. It was like a vise around her lungs, a great weight sitting on her chest. She was choking and drowning at the same time, desperate for air. Oh, dear God, why was this happening now? It had been years since she’d felt this kind of spontaneous terror. She’d thought she was past it.
“Anne,” Daniel said urgently, reaching across the table to take her hand. “What can be wrong?”
It was as if his touch snapped some sort of constricting band, because her entire body suddenly spasmed with a deep, convulsive breath. The black edges that had been squeezing down on her vision shimmered and dissolved, and very slowly, she felt her body returning to normal.
“Anne,” he said again, but she didn’t look at him. She did not want to see the concern on his face. He had been joking, she knew that perfectly well. How on earth would she explain such an overreaction?
“The tea,” she said, hoping he did not remember that she had already put down her mug when he’d made his comment. “I think—” She coughed, and she was not faking it. “I think it went down the wrong way.”
He watched her face intently. “Are you certain?”
“Or maybe it was too hot,” she said, her shoulders quivering in a nervous little shrug. “But I’m almost recovered now, I assure you.” She smiled, or at least tried to. “It’s terribly embarrassing, really.”
“Can I help you in any way?”
“No, of course not.” She fanned herself. “My goodness, I’m suddenly quite warm. Are you?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face.
“The tea,” she said, trying to sound bright and cheery. “As I said, it’s quite hot.”
“It is.”
She swallowed. He saw through her act, she was sure of it. He did not know what the truth was, just that she was not saying it. And for the first time since she’d left home eight years earlier, she felt a pang of remorse over her silence. She had no obligation to share her secrets with this man, and yet, here she was, feeling evasive and guilty.
“Do you think the weather has improved?” she asked, turning to face the window. It was hard to tell; the glass was old and wavy, and the inn’s large overhang shielded it from the direct onslaught of the rain.
“Not yet, no,” he replied.
She turned back, murmuring, “No, of course not.” She fixed a smile on her face. “I should finish my tea, in any case.”
He looked at her curiously. “You’re no longer too warm?”
She blinked, taking a moment to remember that she had been fanning herself just a few moments earlier. “No,” she said. “Funny, that.” She smiled again and brought her mug to her lips. But she was saved from having to figure out how to set the conversation back on its previous, easygoing course by a loud crashing noise just outside the dining room.
“What can that be?” Anne asked, but Daniel was already on his feet.
“Stay here,” he ordered, and strode quickly to the door. He looked tense, and Anne saw something familiar in his stance. Something she’d seen in herself, time and again. It was almost as if he was expecting trouble. But that made no sense. She’d heard that the man who had driven him out of the country had dropped his quest for revenge.
But she supposed that old habits died very hard. If George Chervil suddenly choked on a chicken bone or moved to the East Indies, how long would it take her to stop looking over her shoulder?
“It was nothing,” Daniel said, coming back to the table. “Just a drunkard who managed to wreak havoc from the inn to the stables and back.” He picked up his mug of tea, took a long swig, then added, “But the rain is thinning out. It’s still drizzling, but I think we should leave soon.”