She had just finished changing when she heard the lock in her bedroom door jangling. With a yip, she dove under her bed and crouched in the darkness, ears pricked.
Supper had been a quiet affair in the dining room. Zan had not used it since her uncle’s death. Instead, she had taken her last meal of the day with her staff in the kitchen. With her staff gathered around her, simply the presence of others had helped stave off the melancholy and grief that seized her at other odd moments, rendering her momentarily frozen and mute. But since Caradon was a guest—and it had surprised her that he had put up little protest when she offered to put him up for the night—the dining room was used.
Uncle Elliot had sat at the head of the table, in front of a long window that overlooked the back yard. Since Zan was now head of the household, she had the right to sit in that seat, but she did not feel right occupying the place where her uncle had once presided. So she had taken her customary place—the seat to Uncle Elliot’s left. Caradon had made no mention of her unusual seating. Instead, he took the seat across from hers—the one that was usually reserved for guests—and helped start conversation by reminiscing about his childhood in the Far East with his mother.
Zan mostly had questions for him as she had left that country at such a young age to remember very much. And then she had said, “I wish to one day go and see it again. No doubt, it will be quite different from all these years. A child’s memories cloud reality and perhaps it is not as colorful and vibrant as I have remembered.”
Caradon had given her an enigmatic look before saying, “I too wish to see it again. It is home to some old, fond memories. Perhaps we could go together.”
Startled, she had replied, “Together? What do you mean by that? I thought you saw different parts of the world all the time since you own a shipping business.”
“I own a shipping business, but that does not mean I sail on my own ships. Most owners stay in one place and let their assistants and their captains handle the more mundane chores. And what is wrong with going to visit the place of our childhoods together?”
The lock at her bedroom door rattled again. Who on earth was trying to get into her room? It was ten at night—a time when most people were in bed although some of the more gregarious were still out in the social whirl of soirees and gaming halls—her staff were already turned in and Caradon was supposed to be sleeping in the guest room. Or was he?
She heard the creak of the door as it opened and then shut. There were footsteps. She could feel the vibration of them along the floor with her sensitive paws. It was a man’s tread—too solid for that to be Simkins but not heavy enough to be the cook. The coverlet on her bed trailed the floor so she could not see or smell who belonged to those footfalls. But she had a fairly good guess for who it was.
The footsteps stopped at the foot of her bed. “I know you’re in here, Zan.”
Men like you should be strung up by his toes for violating a proper lady’s bedchambers. How did you get in here? I had that door locked.
“A piece of wire can do wonders with a lock.” The sound of fabric softly sliding against each other and then landing on the floor seemed to echo in the room.
Zan scrambled further back under the bed, her claws clicking on the hardwood floor, a thought both frightening and arousing flickering through her mind. What do you think you’re doing?
She could hear the dark smile in his voice when he said, “What do you think I’m doing?”
I’m not going to have a naked man in my room. And I’m not going to start now either. Put those pants back on!
“Too late, Zan.”
There was a brief surge of energy that churned the air in the room. She could sense the tug whispering along the edge of the bed coverlet as it gently swayed against the floor. Then a nose, followed by silver eyes and fox ears, poked past the coverlet and under the bed to survey her crouched form. His mouth opened revealing teeth and a lolling tongue in a fox laugh.
Go back to your room, Caradon.
What? And let you have all the fun, romping about in the city tonight? He slunk all the way under the bed until he was crouched in front of her, his nose inches away from hers. I’m not about to let you go about your little adventures alone.
You think I’m just out and about having adventures? She blinked and gave a disgusted yip. What happened to your bandages? You still have that wound on your shoulder.
He looked down at his foreleg. Ah. Well, I suppose it just fell off when I changed. Don’t worry, it’s just a surface wound.
Don’t worry? Famous last words, she scoffed. Zan scooted out from underneath the bed and located the pile of bandages next to his clothes. If you insist on following me, you’re going to put this bandage back on. It would be more painful for you if it gets infected.
Very well. He laid down and extended his foreleg. She took the edge of the bandage in her mouth and awkwardly wrapped it around. She left the ends dangling for him to tie the knot. I will have to take this off again to change back.
Of course. And I get no thanks for being practical.
He suddenly nuzzled her throat. You get my thanks. But I wouldn’t say you’re being very practical trying to get at this by yourself.
She scrambled backward towards the window, surprised at his contact. I’m going to get some information that might help me figure out what my uncle was getting at and what those housebreakers wanted.
I guessed as much. So how are we getting out of this room without alerting your staff?
Through here. She opened the windowsill with her nose and jumped onto the window ledge—the flash of her tail flickering like a black flame as she proceeded along the house.
