5 - Together To Join Read Online Free PDF Page B

came through gritted teeth. He was eyeing the bedpan as he did it. Angelique gestured with it. “Then, here’s your answer. I’ll just go and fetch some porridge and—.”
    “You win! I give you my word! Just free me and point me in the direction of your bathroom. I’ll hold my tongue, and keep from trying to escape your gracious hospitality. For the time being, anyway.”
    Angelique moved to a dresser to fetch his combat knife, slid the dull side along her thumb pad as she approached. She didn’t truly trust him, but she didn’t have much choice.

 
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
    It was a matter of semantics. Not honor. There wasn’t any trying involved. He fully intended to escape and started the moment he locked the door behind him. Garrick craned his neck to evaluate the bathroom walls and ceiling as he answered nature’s call. He couldn’t climb out. Her bathroom ceiling was well out of reach, along the lines of her bed chamber. No regress there. He inventoried his assets. He still wore underwear briefs. He had his wits, four large Turkish bath towels, a stack of smaller cloths, sundry toiletries. Damn. Nothing of much use.
    The rest of the room had the same issue. Her bathroom was octagonal, all five walls constructed of highly polished marble, slick and cold. He supposed if he ran the shower hot enough the moisture might give him some grip. It wouldn’t help. He couldn’t maneuver in a cave climb. The walls were too far apart. The entire area was spacious, easily accommodating a Victorian-looking claw tub, a shower that looked especially inviting with one of those ten-inch wide showerheads, a double sink, and one large painting where a mirror should be.
    Oh that’s right, Garrick. She’s a vampire. It was probably hard to put on makeup when you couldn’t see yourself. Now that he thought of it, she didn’t appear to wear cosmetics. She might not need them. He’d rarely seen a more natural beauty; clear, perfect skin, a dusting of dark lashes, really large, green-cast eyes. Being near her put his hormones into a carnival of frustration and longing that defied description. Every touch jacked him into such massive lust and longing, he should probably thank the hosiery for its stopping power.
    Hell. And damnation.
    What was wrong with him? She was dead. A dead thing couldn’t be beautiful. Or create desire. Or do anything other than rot in place. That meant he needn’t care whether he broke his word to her or not. That should stop the kernel of guilt. It should…but it didn’t.
    He’d have to go further afield. The bathroom wasn’t going to work. He took a deep breath and headed for the door. He’d save self-justification for later. Right now he had to get out of this castle and figure out where the hell he was. It couldn’t be Louisiana. There wasn’t a mountain in this part of the country capable of hiding a castle this size. It would be seen for miles. And commented on. Of course, she might have built it against a mountain, using the size for camouflage. The exact phrasing of her home gave that away. It wasn’t just a castle. It was the ‘Castle of the Mountain’.
    He’d lied to her about that, as well. He knew every Romanic language: Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, and Romanian. He knew a few others as well, but they were more difficult. And he was wasting time.
    Nobody was in the hall outside. The space echoed with emptiness and vast space. Garrick raced along a cold stone floor, reached the first doorknob, and peeked before sliding in. And then narrowed his eyes. The woman had an entire room devoted to wardrobe. And shoes. And handbags, cloaks, hats. Both sides of the place were filled with garments of every hue and every description, while toes of shoes peeked out from beneath. It wasn’t just one room, either. The corridor of clothing zigzagged through the space, going beneath more than one doorframe as it encompassed another room. Twice, Garrick had to stand on one of the little chairs