Lyon's Roar (The Lyon's Den) by Tabetha Waite

Author:Tabetha Waite [Waite, Tabetha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Beatrice sat straight up in bed. Her hair was damp with perspiration and sticking to the sides of her face. She lifted her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them. She’d had a nightmare. A bad one.

She quickly lit the candle on her bedside table, but the dim light did little to chase away the shadows in the room that threatened to come back to haunt her. She threw the covers aside and rose on shaking legs. She knew she shouldn’t bother Rowan, for God only knew what time it was, but she was feeling like a child who was scared of the dark, and she needed to know that she wasn’t alone.

With the candle holder in her grasp, she held her hand about the flame so that it wouldn’t go out, and then she crept to the door. She slowly opened it and peered out into the hallway. There was no movement and very little noise coming from downstairs. It was so unlike London, where the city never seemed to sleep. It should have given her comfort, but instead, the silence unnerved her even more.

She stared at the closed door across from her—where Mrs. Parks had told her Rowan would be—and worried her lower lip. This was ridiculous. She ought to return to her room immediately and force herself to lay back down. She might still be unnerved, but she was a mature woman who should know not to take any sort of dream that seriously.

Beatrice had nearly convinced herself to do just that, but a sudden gust of wind caused the entire inn to creak, and she found herself scurrying across the hall and rapping lightly on the door before she could question her judgement.

She waited anxiously for the sound of footsteps crossing the expanse, her breath coming in great, heaving gulps. When nothing came from the other side, she should have taken that as a sign to return to her room.

She knocked again, this time a bit harder.

The seconds ticked by endlessly as she stood in that drafty hallway, barefoot on the cold wood floor, and shivered in her nightdress. She hadn’t even had the foresight to grab a robe. Realizing how foolish she appeared, she turned around at the same time the door opened and she heard Rowan’s baritone address her with a husky, sleepy tone. “Beatrice? Is everything well?”

“I had a nightmare,” she said softly, as she reluctantly faced him.

That was a terrible mistake.

He was standing there in nothing but a pair of buff trousers and she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes on his face. Her gaze had fallen to his strong, hairy chest—and stayed there. She knew she was blatantly staring at him, but to her horror, she couldn’t seem to look away.

“Do you want to come in?”

Her focus abruptly returned to his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He rolled his eyes and opened the door wider, tempting her with his invitation. “I promise I won’t bite.

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