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bed and furniture
didn’t make the room look much more comforting than it had when it was entirely
dark and that coffer at the end of the bed...She sucked in a breath and held
it. Could she be brave enough to move it?
    Taking a step forward, she froze. A noise. Scratching. No , it
couldn’t be. She was imagining things. Her heart began to pick up speed. She’d
have to open it. She eyed the chest and tried to persuade her limbs to move.
She couldn’t very well stand there all night and what if...It was a foolish
thought, but she had to know.
    In one swift movement that had blood rushing
through her ears, she lifted the lid and stepped back. No one leaped out of it.
There wasn’t someone trapped inside it. Not like she had been. Of course there
wasn’t. She peered in it to see it full of blankets and sheets. What a fool.
Why would this man have some poor woman shut away in a chest?
    Stepping carefully around it, she settled on the
bed and tucked her legs up in front of her. Arms wrapped around them, she
prepared herself for a long night.
     

Chapter Five
    The room
didn’t seem nearly so daunting in the daylight. With the curtains drawn back
and gentle sunlight slipping over the dark wood and luxurious fabrics, Antonia
could almost wonder at why she had been so terrified. But, of course, she knew
her fears were not rational and that they would be back tonight.
    She propped her hands on her hips and eyed the
coffer. That would have to go, however. Mayhap she could drag it out herself or
ask one of the male servants to remove it. She wouldn’t spend another night
sleeping with a box like that. She yawned. Not that she had slept. Exhaustion
ate into every part of her but the thought of seeing her father had forced her
to get up and dressed.
    Voices drifted up from below somewhere, and she
paused. She recognised Henry’s low tones immediately. Her stomach did a little
tumble. She couldn’t forget what he’d looked like last night—his hair messy and around his shoulders—and then this morning, with
it tied back, in a well cut jerkin that emphasised his broad chest. He was such
a large man, with huge hands and a severe expression. She should be
scared of him...
    Somehow, she wasn’t.
    He was outside, she realised as she listened
carefully. Almost fearful he might catch her, she
tiptoed over to the window and eased it open. Antonia peered down and spotted
him beneath her window. From here she saw only his wide shoulders, emphasised
by the leather jerkin and the loose linen of his shirt blowing gently in the
wind. She couldn’t help recall those arms keeping her afloat while he murmured
words of reassurance.
    Her weak heart begged her to trust him. But he
was her captor and...
    She focused on his words. Her father—he was
speaking of her father.
    “We checked all the prisoners. He’s definitely
not amongst them,” the man with whom he was speaking said. “Will said they were
separated in the water.”
    “Where is Will now?”
    “Down at the barn, Sir Henry.”
    “I’ll speak with him shortly. If de Valdés is
still alive, we need to find him,” Henry said to the man.
    If he was
alive?
    Antonia whirled away. Her head spun. Before she
realised what she had done, she was flying down the stairs and out of the rear
door of the manor house. She stalked over to Henry, forcing him to turn his
attention to her.
    “My father is dead?” she demanded.
    “Nay—” He glanced at the other man who edged
away and dipped his head before vanishing around the corner of the building. “Missing.”
    “You told me he was well.” She took a step
closer and jabbed a finger into his chest. It had little effect on the firm
muscles under thick leather. “You lied to me.”
    He lifted his brows and peered down at her. “I
was not very well going to tell you he was missing and cause you further
distress.”
    He said this so curtly, so reasonably, as if she
was entirely in the wrong. It only incensed her further. Her father could