Emily collapsed under his dead weight, but was able to lower him to the floor without injuring either him or herself. She reached up and turned the lock just moments before she heard a roar from the hallway.
“Where is he?” a woman screamed. “He’s not finished yet.”
Another less frantic voice joined hers. “Calm down, Mother. You’ve been dreaming.”
“I’ve done nothing of the sort!” The woman’s outraged voice echoed through the room. Emily realized the two women had stopped right outside the door.
The younger voice grew softer. “Come back into the room. Please. You don’t want anyone to see you like this.”
Emily could contain her curiosity no longer and pushed herself up from the floor high enough to peer through the keyhole. She saw something—someone—dressed in white lace and red ribbons standing by the door.
The revelation hit Emily like a wet sponge. She’s in her undergarments!
She didn’t know whether to laugh or be embarrassed for the woman. Then a thought struck her. What was Mr. East doing in that room with an undressed woman?
Perhaps he was the one who deserved the sympathy. An image flashed through Emily’s mind as she imagined Mr. East walking into the room, stunned to discover a near naked woman lying in wait.
The absurdity of the concept almost wiped away Emily’s worst fears. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t have tried to take advantage of a woman like Mrs. Molderhoffen.
A kernel of doubt slipped through her defenses.
Would he?
Emily left her charge on the floor and lit the gas lamp. She’d been lucky there was an empty room on the floor, despite the usual heavy holiday occupancy. The room had sustained damage from the previous occupant, a rich eccentric writer who had decided to plot his next book on the wallpaper. Then, angered by a rejection from a publisher, he’d taken his anger out on his current project, as well as the wall it was written on, by destroying it using whatever weapon had been handy—empty liquor bottles, chairs, etc. After the man checked out and the damage was discovered, the Major had spent a half hour in their next morning muster ranting about the maid who had not reported the first signs of trouble, therefore letting the problems mount.
Emily adjusted the lamp until the flame was low, giving her enough light to cause eerie shadows in the room, but not enough illumination to be seen beneath the doorway leading to the hall. She looked around at the cloth-draped furniture and the worktable dominating the center of the room. Lucky for them, the carpenters had been given Christmas Day off.
Mr. East shifted, drawing her attention. “God, kill me now,” he said with a groan. He pushed himself upright and groaned again.
Emily squatted beside him. “What happened, sir?”
He shook his head, then winced. “I’m not too sure. It’s all fuzzy right now.” He started to rise to his feet, and Emily steadied him. “I think she hit me.” He rubbed a red mark on his face and tested his jaw by working it gingerly with his hand. “Ow. I know she hit me.”
The kernel of guilt shifted in her chest, tightening around her throat. “I tried to warn you they were coming, sir. But they moved so fast . . .”
He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t worry. I believe you. I learned firsthand exactly how fast she is.” His face darkened. “And how strong.”
Emily slipped beneath his arm to provide the balance he evidently lacked. Together, they lurched toward a chair-shaped cloth lump. Emily reached down to pull off the material, revealing the broken chair beneath.
Mr. East began to lean more heavily against her, his strength evidently waning. If she didn’t get him seated somewhere, they’d both land in a heap on the floor. Stumbling toward the bed, she managed to balance him long enough to tug at the canvas that protected the frame and mattress. One corner of the material hung on something behind the bed which had been shoved against the wall. She gave the canvas a sharp pull and it freed itself unexpectedly, causing her to lose her balance. They tumbled in a spin to the mattress, the protective cloth snapping around them like a shroud. And if the binding material wasn’t bad enough, she landed beneath his dead weight.
After regaining her breath, she became aware of the very provocative nature of their position. But the more she struggled to free herself, the more entangled they became.
“Wake up, Mr. East,” she hissed between her teeth. Any louder and she might alert the world outside to their unseemly position; any quieter and she might not rouse him. But it was hard not to panic. He shifted, sighed, then opened one eye.
“Last time I was on the bottom.” He shot her a slightly lopsided grin. “This is a vast improvement.”
Panic began to clog her throat. “Please, sir. This isn’t . . . proper.”
His grin and his awareness of his surroundings seemed to grow at the same rate. “But it is mighty comfortable, wouldn’t you say?”
She couldn’t control herself. Her heart began to pound in her chest; her breath became harder to catch. If anyone walked in on them, she’d be horrified. The punishment for aiding and abetting an apparent criminal would be nothing compared to being caught in a compromising position with a man. The Major would understand her role in the “crime,” since it wasn’t really a crime at all, but if anyone found them like this, she’d be summarily dismissed and her reputation would be destroyed.
Panic welled up, making it hard to talk. “Please—do something—now!” She struggled to catch her breath and started thrashing against the horrible material that imprisoned her.
“Calm down, Emily,” he ordered in a soft voice.
She was seized by only one thought, one instinct: an overwhelming desire for freedom.
“No, we can’t . . . I must . . .” Thoughts swirled in her mind like a tornado, too fast to articulate. “Get out. . .”
“Emily,” he warned. “Be quiet.”
Quiet. Her logical mind seized on the need to be quiet, but the need to scream became overwhelming. She had to express her fears. She needed to scream. She must scream.
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath to scream. And he did the most remarkable thing.
He kissed her.
It was a total surprise, a shock to her system. But perhaps a shock was just what she needed. Suddenly, her attention was diverted from their predicament and caught up instead in the sensation of his lips on hers. There was a sense of warm reassurance in his kiss, but as he lingered, deepening the kiss, it became more than mere reassurance. It was an intoxicating promise of what could be. As strong and as commanding as her fears had been, that energy was now being channeled into the pleasure of their intimate contact. Desire cut through the maelstrom that had dominated her brain just moments earlier, and all she could think of now was the delicious feelings the kiss was generating throughout her entire body.
He broke off the kiss as suddenly as he’d begun it.
“Better?”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “No. Do it again.”
“Emily.” His voice held a note of admonishment and amusement. “First things first.”
She nodded. He was right. “Yes, sir,” she said with a lingering sense of regret.
He stretched, then groaned. “I think I can get us out of this.” He flexed his arms, which only served to tighten the canvas around her. Although she didn’t cry out in pain, he noticed the grimace on her face.
“Okay, so that won’t work. Sorry. Maybe there’s another way.”
They tried to roll in order to unwrap themselves, but the material refused to untangle.
Her panic began to surface again. “What do we do now? If you can’t force your way out and we can’t—”
“Stop, Emily.” He paused to capture her with a dark stare. “There’s another way, but you’ll have to be quiet—and still—in order for me to do it. Okay?” In the war raging between her sense of desperation and her attraction to and faith in him, he won. She drew in a breath of air, this time not as shaky as before. “Yes, sir.”
“This is hard to explain, but just be patient.”
He closed his eyes. For a moment, she thought he’d passed out. Every muscle had gone limp. Then he slowly opened his eyes, staring straight ahead as if she wasn’t there. He continued to stare into the distance, his eyes growing more vacant at each passing second. Although his stare was empty, she had a feeling he was concentrating hard. His breathing became quick and shallow. Then she felt the muscles of his stomach begin to undulate.
It was an age-old motion, one that spoke to, called to, the woman inside of her, but somehow, she knew his actions weren’t a preamble to a coupling. He began to rotate one shoulder and then there was a small sound, almost a pop. Then, material loosened around them somewhat. He flexed the other shoulder and, at the same sound, the material grew almost slack. His undulating motions continued, and she realized he was making progress, literally slithering out of their wrap like a snake shedding its skin.
She tried to push away the feelings that were growing inside of her, to explain them away as an uncontrollable physical response to his inadvertently tantalizing movements. But she found it very hard not to surrender to the delicious feeling he was creating in the center of her body. As he inched out toward freedom, his body began a long, tortuous trip along hers. Her face slid from his cheek to his throat and then to his chest, where she could hear the incredibly slow beat of his heart.
He stopped his rhythmic motion once his arms were free from the material, and she almost cried out for him to continue. He stayed still for a few more moments, then flexed his arms with another volley of pops. Lifting off of her, he made quick work of unwrapping the material. Once freed, he rolled over, lying back down on the bed again.
Emily wanted to savor the warm currents that flowed through her body, but her curiosity also demanded satisfaction. “How did . . . what did you do?”
He grinned, then winced as he rubbed one shoulder and then the other. “It’s a contortionist’s trick. You slightly dislocate your shoulders—which is relatively easy if you’re double-jointed like me—then you’re able to wiggle out of tight spots. I’ve been doing it all my life.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Just not lately. Looks like I’m not quite as double-jointed as I used to be.” He rotated one arm in a circle, and a small spasm of pain shot across his face.
“A con-contortionist?” She wasn’t familiar with the word.
“Well, in this case, an escape artist, like Harry Houdini. That’s how he escaped from straitjackets.”
He said the name as though she ought to recognize it, but she didn’t. “Houdini? Is he a friend of yours?”
He coughed, then flushed for some reason, perhaps betraying a friendship that had not gone well. “Uh . . . no, just a . . . performer I’ve heard of.” He stood up quickly as if wanting to dodge any further conversation, but his reddened cheeks suddenly paled and he sagged back to the bed.
“Whoa, she really packed a wallop.” He probed his jaw carefully. “I’m lucky she didn’t break a bone.”
She examined his skin, her fingers tingling in contact with his bristled jaw. “You’re also lucky she didn’t catch you.”
He nodded. “You can say that again. Thanks. If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, she would have trapped me like a rat. And God knows what she would have done with me once she had me.”
Emily found his comments confusing until she remembered the sight of the woman in her ribbon-festooned bloomers. Suddenly, she understood his reference and covered her uncontrollable gasp with her hand.
“She tried to . . . ?” The words wouldn’t come. “To you?”
He nodded. “And she almost succeeded. I tell you, I was fearing for my life.” He added a short bark of laughter. “And my virtue.”
Emily blushed. She’d never considered the idea of a woman forcing her attentions on a man in quite such a manner. She stole a glance at Mr. East. At least Mrs. Molderhoffen had good taste in men.
A noise outside commanded their attention. A voice rose in the room next door. Delgatto motioned for Emily to join him, and they pressed their ears against the common wall.
“. . . had a gun and demanded I disrobe. I refused, of course.”
Delgatto glanced at Emily and drew a solemn cross over his heart. “Never happened,” he whispered. “I promise. I don’t use guns and I have never forced a woman to undress.” He added to himself, But after that kiss, I would have liked to undress you.
To his relief, Emily nodded with enthusiasm. “She’s just trying to protect herself.”
He allowed his glance to linger on her a moment longer than was really necessary. If only you could read my thoughts.
Delgatto heard a voice and recognized the Major’s stentorian tones. Evidently, Mrs. Molderhoffen had decided to call in the troops.
“We’ve had no reports of a gun-toting burglar roaming the halls of The Chesterfield. Your daughter said she believed you’d been dreaming—”
“I was not asleep!” Her adamant shout was so strong it almost shook the walls.
“Is anything missing?”
“Yes, my diamond engagement ring from the late Mr. Molderhoffen. It’s very valuable, a family heirloom.”
“When was the last time you saw it?”
“I took it off before the costume ball and put it here in my jewelry satchel. As soon as that ruffian left and I’d regained my senses, I searched for it and found it gone.”
Delgatto shook his head. What a liar. She’d worn the ring to the ball with her Cleopatra costume. He’d noticed the diamond and instantly assessed it as a fake.
He glanced at Emily and shook his head. “The ring’s hidden beneath her lingerie in the second drawer on the left. I saw it when I was searching through her things.” He shuddered at the memory of the woman’s hands on him.
“And you didn’t secure your valuable in our safe as we request?”
They couldn’t hear what the woman said next, but a few moments later, there was the bang of a door being slammed, the brisk heel-taps of the Major fading away down the hall, and the unmistakable sound of someone crying.
“Get a grip, you silly girl,” the elder Molderhoffen told someone, presumably the younger Molderhoffen.
“B-b-but I sent him through your room because I thought you were asleep.”
“You giddy chit. What he told you were lies. He didn’t fall madly in love with you at the ball.”
Emily looked at Delgatto, raising her eyebrow. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered.
“—he did. He told me so. But his family is making him marry someone else. He just wanted me to know. See? Men do find me attractive. You don’t have to keep trying to foist me on them. I’m totally capable of finding my own man.”
“Stupid girl. Men like him don’t fall head-over-heels in love with girls like you.”
“He did.” Gertrude seemed to be building up steam. “And another man will, too. I’m not the hopeless case you make me out to be, Mother.”
The last words did Delgatto’s heart good. Maybe the girl would untie some of the iron apron strings and get out from beneath her mother’s enormous and controlling shadow.
Another noise in the hallway startled them. It was the Major again.
“—check all these rooms. If the guests are in, I’ll speak to them. If they’re not, we’ll check the room to see if it looks as if it’s been disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.” Cornelia’s voice rang out clear.
They heard the Major knock on one door, but couldn’t hear the questions he asked or the answers he received.
Emily pulled at Delgatto’s sleeve. “What do we do now? If they catch us in here . . .”
Delgatto stood up, fighting the dizziness that made his vision swim. “Hide.”
She glanced around. “Where?”
He tried to stand without swaying, but lost his balance and sat down hard on the bed.
“You hide under the bed,” she offered. “I’ll stay here and try to explain things to the Major.”
Black spots began to fill his vision. “How can you explain you’re hiding in a closed room? This isn’t even your floor.”
Inspiration hit as the room started to spin. “I have an idea.” He grabbed the edge of the mattress, trying to keep himself upright. “Get both of those drop cloths and that broken chair,” he commanded. “And put out that light.” She blew out the lamp, fetched the materials, and brought them to the bed. “We’re going to lie down on the bed and cover ourselves with the drop cloth. Then we load the other stuff on top of us. Anyone looking at the bed will think the carpenters simply tossed the chair and the extra drop cloth on them to get them out of their way.”
The black spots began to fill in his vision. “Cover me and then slide in between me and the wall. Even if someone finds me, they might not find you.” With fingers that didn’t want to work well, he managed to tug his mask back into place. It might give him a brief moment of anonymity.
He sank to the bed, barely cognizant of the musty cloth that settled over his face. He roused somewhat when he felt Emily slide in next to him, wedging herself between him and the wall.
The last thing he heard before surrendering to the beckoning darkness was a loud voice calling out, “What’s going on here?”