Page 8 of Earl Crazy
Alas, there wasn’t any water to be found in the cramped little room at the end of the hallway. There was a sideboard with a few bottles of spirits arrayed along the top, but no water.
Well then, she didn’t have any choice, did she?
She rummaged through the bottles, snatched up one that was half full of pale liquid—sherry, most likely—and marched back outside, the decanter in her hand.
“I’m afraid I really must insist that you wake up at once,” she said in her sternest voice, dropping to her knees beside him and shaking his shoulder.
His brow furrowed, and he muttered something, but his eyes remained closed.
“You can’t stay here. You’ll freeze to death. Surely, you don’t want that?”
She shook his shoulder again, and this time he made a clumsy effort to push her away, but she evaded him easily. “Now, none of that, if you please. I’m trying to help you.”
“…told you togo, Fanny.”
Fanny? Who was Fanny? His lover? How titillating.
But this was hardly the time to delve deeper into the man’s scandals, particularly if she didn’t wish to become one of them, which she certainly would, if she lingered here any longer.
It would have to be the sherry, then.
It took a bit of tugging to remove the stopper, but she managed it. She leaned over him, and tipped the bottle toward his mouth. A few stray drops escaped, and splashed onto the white linen of his shirt.
Oh, dear. That didn’t look like sherry. It wasgreen.Not a lurid, poisonous green, thank goodness, but a pale, harmless-looking green. Still, green spirits? Surely, it wasn’t wise to toss green spirits into people’s faces?
She jerked the bottle back, but the liquid—whatever it was—rushed from the mouth, and splashed directly into the man’s face.
“Arggh!” He jerked as if he’d been struck, his hands flying to his face. “What thedevil?”
Oh, no. She hadn’t meant to douse him quite so thoroughly. “I do beg your pardon—”
“For God’s sake, Fanny!”
Whoever this Fanny was, Tilly didn’t envy her in the least. But at least he was alive, if a bit confused. “I’m not—”
“You nearly drowned me in absinthe!” He rolled over onto his side, coughing and spluttering. “It’s burning my eyes!”
Absinthe? Oh, no. Of all the bottles on the sideboard, why had fate led her tothatone? Wasn’t absinthe meant to drive people mad? Perhaps she’d better be on her way, before he returned to his senses, and began asking questions she’d rather not answer.
Her name, for instance.
She scrambled to her feet, and began to inch backward, away from him. “Er, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to…”
But what could she say? There was no explanation that would do, no scenario in which sneaking about a man’s house at night and throwing absinthe in his face could possibly be made to sound innocent.
So, she did what any young lady who didn’t choose to be embroiled in a scandalwoulddo in such circumstances.
Turned, and ran. Alas, she didn’t get far.
A large hand snaked out, grabbed the hem of her cloak and jerked her to a halt. “Oh no, you don’t.” Long, strong fingers wrapped tightly around her ankle, holding her fast. “You’re not going anywhere.”
ChapterThree
“Release me this instant!” She kicked at him, her heel coming dangerously close to striking his forehead, but he had a tight grip on her ankle, which was impressive given he’d just narrowly escaped being drowned in a flood of absinthe.
Drowned, and blinded. The spirits burned like acid, scalding his eyeballs with such fiery intensity he couldn’t bear to open his eyes. It was pure luck he’d managed to grab hold of her at all.
But now he had her, he wasn’t letting her go.
