Chapter 8 Sneak Peek
LILA
Dubois gestured down the corridor. “Come.”
They moved as directed. No conversation. No comfort. The women held themselves apart, each step stiff. Two officers led in front, two more close behind. The Hightower’s marble floors gleamed under the harsh light, polished to sterility, suddenly clinical instead of grand.
Daniel brought up the rear, deliberately slowing his stride so his footsteps echoed. He was letting them hear him, Lila realized. Every measured stride a reminder that someone else was watching.
Her own steps were softer, more exact, the kind of careful rhythm she used when navigating excavation sites, place foot, shift weight, balance. The notebook pressed tight to her chest felt almost absurd, like it could somehow shield her from whatever came next. She thought briefly about how ridiculous she must look, clutching it like armor, but still she couldn’t let go.
The officers drew a few paces ahead, their cadence brisk enough to swallow any softer sounds behind them. That was when she sensed him draw closer. Daniel quickened, falling into stride beside her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough she felt the awareness of him, the steady blue of his gaze, the curve of his mouth.
Her knuckles whitened around the spine of her notebook. They both looked forward, as if refusing to acknowledge how this was all deeply weird.
“I believe,” Daniel murmured, pitched for her alone, “that we missed the proper introductions.”
Lila blinked. For one disorienting second, the sheer incongruity of it nearly tipped her balance. Stolen relics and scandal biting at her heels, and the man wanted to introduce himself. It was so absurd she almost laughed, except nothing about this felt funny.
Instead, she cleared her throat, which came out squeakier than intended. “Um. I…yes. I suppose so.”
He offered a half-smile. Crooked, almost shy. The sort of expression that didn’t fit neatly with the tall, tuxedoed Duke who’d just stormed into a room like a thunderclap.
“Daniel Harrowind,” he said, quieter now than he’d been in the chaos earlier. “Duke of Eastmoor.”
Her pulse fluttered. It seemed only fair to match his formality, though it came out like a blurting. “Lila Singh. Rajkumari of Indravash.”
His gaze flicked toward her notebook. “Do you always carry that?”
Heat rose up her neck. “Yes, unfortunately. It helps me think. Literally.” She realized how ridiculous that sounded only after it was out.
“Shield, or research?” he asked, as if the question were perfectly logical.
“Both,” she whispered. “Depends on the circumstances.”
The grin that spread across his face looked unguarded now, warmer than it should have been in a hallway patrolled by police. “Sounds useful. I’ll remember to bring my own next time.”
She bit her lip, finally brave enough to let a grin slip back. “You’re not what I expected from a Duke, you know.”
“Likewise, Rajkumari,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “No headdress. Not even a dramatic faint.”
She gave a surprised shrug. “I left my fainting couch at home.”
His head tilted, eyes crinkling. “We’ll have to improvise. I can always catch you.”
Her chuckle came unbidden, bright and a little incredulous. Delight, really, because who joked like this, here of all places?
His face turned solemn. “You were magnificent, you know. Back there at the dining table.”
Her heart gave a startled kick. Magnificent? No one had ever used that word for her, not even when she had successfully dug up a particularly well-preserved temple frieze. She ducked her head, heat rising, and muttered something utterly silly like, “I’m better with digging than public speaking.”
“Good,” he said without missing a beat. “Then we clearly need you on our excavation team. We’re going to need one if we want to find out the truth.”
She huffed out a nervous laugh, and then, because humor was safer than sincerity, stage-whispered, “If you can define stratigraphy in under ten words, I’ll consider the alliance.”
He blinked, thought for half a beat, then leaned in, conspiratorial. “Layers, timelines, and people’s bad decisions, mostly buried.”
Lila stared at him, delighted, utterly undone. Nobody, nobody, ever tried to joke about stratigraphy. She had to remember to write that down, just to prove the moment had actually happened.
———–
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