That was enough for one day. Maybe tomorrow he’d work on his crippling fear of spiders, take a hike outdoors, or finally eat black pudding. His stomach gave an unwelcome leap at the mere thought.
Or maybe he’d just focus on convincing Claire she wasn’t cursed.
He nodded swiftly. That was clearly a better plan, and it didn’t involve him eating blood sausage. He turned away from the wall, pointedly avoiding looking down as he made his way to the stairwell. He’d already proved he could do it—no need to be excessive.
His descent was much faster, as he practically sprinted down the steps in his urge to get to solid ground. By the time he reached the last step, he’d started an all-out run toward the door at the end of the landing, leading to the interior of the castle. He flung open the door and surged through.
And he smacked straight into another body. A warm, petite body with voluptuous curves that had haunted his dreams more times than he could count.
Claire.
He grabbed hold of her, his hands clutching her arms seconds before she fell. He helped right her, not releasing her until she’d caught her breath.
Even then, he did not want to let her go. She was here—his Claire, with her crystal blue eyes and red lips. That pert little nose that wrinkled whenever she was amused. Her blond brows that arched just so whenever he said she was good and true and never, ever would she become something so dark and malignant as she believed.
“Steady now,” he told her, as she regarded him wide-eyed, surprise splashing pink across her high cheekbones.
He let her go, dropping his hands to his sides and taking a few steps back, because that was what friends did. Friends did not linger, their touches too long, their mouths dry from the mere sight of each other.
They were friends now, but God how he longed to change that. And he would, devil take his soul. Because the urge to drag the pad of his thumb across her full lips and down her soft skin until he met the curve of her chin was so pressing, he could barely breathe. It was as if he was up on that tower all over again—except now he only saw her.
She reached up, checking that her chignon was still secure. Alas, it was, and for what was probably the four hundredth time he vowed he’d see her with her golden curls unbound, flowing freely down her shoulders.
“Teddy?” She blinked up at him, so adorably confused. “What are you doing here?”
Purchase The Mad Countess
Also by Erica Monroe:
GOTHIC BRIDES
Regency Gothic Novellas
The Mad Countess
The Determined Duchess
The Scandalous Widow
COVERT HEIRESSES
Regency Spies
I Spy a Duke
For Your Spy Only (2018)
A Spy Never Surrenders (2019)
Spies Are Forever (2019)
THE ROOKERY ROGUES
Romantic Era Working Class
A Dangerous Invitation
Beauty and the Rake
Stealing the Rogue’s Heart
The Lady Rebels (2018)
ANTHOLOGIES
Mystified
Charmed at Christmas
Suspenseful Starts
The Rookery Rogues: Volume 1
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Erica Monroe writes dark, suspenseful historical romance. Her current series include Gothic Brides (Regency Gothic romances), The Rookery Rogues (pre-Victorian gritty working class romance), and Covert Heiresses (Regency spies who are the children of a duke). She was a finalist in the published historical category for the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Romantic Suspense, and her books have been recommended reads at Fresh Fiction, Smexy Books, SBTB, and All About Romance. When not writing, she is a chronic TV watcher, sci-fi junkie, and comic book fanatic. She lives in the suburbs of North Carolina with her husband, two dogs, and a cat.
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