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his chest.
    “Do you often go roaming at night, Mr. Chapel?”
    Her velvety voice kept him from acting on his desire.
    “Chapel,” he corrected, taking a step backward. “It’s just Chapel. And yes, I do often roam at night, Miss Ryland.”
    “Pru.” She smiled slightly. “Miss Ryland makes me feel like an old spinster.”
    Which was exactly what she would have been back in his day, a thought that shocked him because she seemed so young. He shrugged. “Women of your status can afford to wait before marrying.”
    Fine brows lifted. “Wait? Perhaps I simply do not wish to marry.”
    There was challenge in her words, but no truth in her eyes. “Perhaps, Pru, you have yet to meet a man who could match your expectations of a husband.”
    Her wide lips curved on one side. “That is entirely possible, I suppose. What of you?”
    Caution rose within him. “What of me?”
    She took a step toward him, those slender arms lifting her breasts against the neckline of her gown and wrapper. He stared at the tantalizing tracings of blue just below her fair skin. Pru seemed unaware of his straying gaze. Bold indeed—both of them. Far too bold to be safe. “You are unmarried as well, are you not? Why?”
    He said the first thing that came to mind. “No sane woman would have me.”
    She blinked at his obviously unexpected honesty. “Oh. Perhaps we are more alike than I thought.”
    The smile he gave her was a kind one. Let her believe they were alike if it made her feel better. “Perhaps.”
    Her gaze drifted toward the wall of windows. Moonlight touched her cheeks through the glass, brightened her eyes so that they seemed even more feline.
    “But I have never roamed the night.” Her voice was so low, so wistful that at first Chapel thought he might have imagined it.
    She withdrew from him quickly, with all the grace and agility of a doe. Dumbfounded, he stood there, still as a statue, and watched her flee. What, in the name of God, was she doing?
    She threw open one of the windows and, grasping the frame, stepped up onto the sill. Her head turned, her eyes flashing brightly at him from over her shoulder. How wild and free she looked in her loose gown with her unbound hair and flushed cheeks.
    “Coming, Chapel?”
    The wise course would be to let her go. But what if Temple was in the area? What if he was half starved and Pru stumbled upon him? Even though he couldn’t sense his old friend’s presence, that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, just out of range.
    But it wasn’t Temple who was the real threat tonight. It was his own thoughts and desires.When had he last walked with a woman? He wanted to share the dark with this fragile, mysterious woman.
    Pru did not wait for his reply, but jumped out the window. Cursing, Chapel followed. As he leapt the few feet to the ground, he had the sudden and awful realization that he had been right.
    It had been a mistake to come to Cornwall.

Chapter 4
    P ru had never done anything so impulsive or reckless as jumping out of that window. An hour later she still did not know what had made her do it.
    They walked in silence, the thick grass swishing against their footwear. Her slippers were thin but dry—something that would never have occurred to her before she became obsessed with illness. To catch a cold would cost her days of exploration, and she couldn’t have that.
    “How did you find out about my search for the Grail?” The question had been gnawing at her since the Vatican’s first letter.
    Chapel shrugged his wide shoulders beneath a halo of silvery moonlight. “The Vatican has spies everywhere.”
    Was that actually a joke? There was no hint of amusement on his face, nor flicker of mirth in his gaze. “Are you serious?”
    Another shrug, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips. Her shoulders sagged in relief. He was joking.
    “I assume it was through your research,” he replied. “I believe a priest who attended several of Mr. Grey’s lectures was very