than what it was—
hatred.
“Lord Bahru prefers to sleep late each morning,” Catherine said.
“It matters not. The prince says I am to place myself at your complete disposal,”
Nyria snarled, her eyes flashing ebony fire. “That I am to consider you the mistress of
his house from this day forward.” An unladylike snort punctuated the housekeeper’s
words.
“Mistress of his house?” Catherine asked, stunned.
“As though you could ever be mistress here,” Nyria sneered.
Catherine was unnerved by the woman’s attitude. “Have I done something to cause
your dislike, Nyria?” she asked.
“You are here, are you not?” Nyria spat at her. “You, who do not belong, are not
one of us—”
As Catherine watched, the housekeeper’s words were cut off as though a noose had
dropped over her neck to silence her. Nyria’s hands flew to her neck and she scratched
at the flesh there, digging into the invisible constriction that was rapidly turning her
face dark with infused blood.
“Nyria!” Catherine shouted, and rushed to the other woman’s aid.
The housekeeper staggered backward, slammed into the wall and then slid down it
as she clutched at her throat. Strangled gasps came from her wide-open mouth and her
eyes bulged as she strove to draw air into her body. Her legs shot out in front of her, her
heels digging into the carpet.
“Jacob!” Catherine screamed, dropping down beside Nyria and pulling at her
hands. “Nyria, let me see!”
Nyria shook her head from side to side while still trying to free her throat from the
unseen pressure. Her eyes were already rolling up in her head and her gasps becoming
weaker.
When Catherine managed to tear Nyria’s hands from her throat, she was stunned to
see twin indentions pressing deeply into the housekeeper’s windpipe. But before she
could react, she was dragged to her feet and spun away from Nyria. She jerked her
head around and got just a glimpse of a stranger’s broad face before being pushed into
Jacob’s arms.
“She’s choking!” Catherine shouted. She tried to twist out of Jacob’s powerful hold
but the butler held her easily. “I can help her!”
“No, you can’t,” the stranger replied as he bent over and grabbed Nyria’s arms,
jerking her to her feet.
“Let me—” Catherine began, but Nyria was already drawing in great gasps of
breath. Catherine could only stand there—still held in Jacob’s massive arms—and
watch as the housekeeper turned fearful eyes to her.
29
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“Forgive me,” Nyria croaked. She held out a hand toward Catherine. “Forgive me,
mistress. I did not know…”
“What happened?” Catherine asked, freeing herself from Jacob. She took a step
toward Nyria, but the housekeeper backed away, still holding out a hand in apology.
“Forgive me!”
Nyria jerked around, stumbled against the wall and then fled down the staircase,
her turban coming undone to trail behind her as she ran. Catherine would have gone
after her, but the stranger stepped directly into her path.
“Best leave her alone for now, milady,” the man said in a deep rumbling voice.
“The master will see to her.”
“She could have choked to death,” Catherine reminded him in an angry voice. “I
am trained as a nurse. I am more qualified than you to take care of someone who is
struggling to breathe!”
“Yes, milady, I’m sure you are, but she was in no real danger,” the stranger said
calmly.
“No real danger?” Catherine gasped with disbelief. “She was choking!”
The man nodded. “She was being punished for speaking to you disrespectfully,
milady.”
Catherine was aware of Jacob nodding his agreement beside her and she turned to
look up at the butler’s impassive face. His cinnamon gaze was on her.
“You believe this too?” she signed.
Jacob answered. “Yes.”
She turned back to the stranger. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me His Grace
was the one punishing