A Candle in the Dark Read Free Page B

of his stomach. There was something in her expressionless face, something that burrowed inside of him with a tenacity he knew he’d never be able to shake. Hell, if he left now, if he walked out of the tavern and never came back, he knew he would remember this woman for the rest of his life. Would always regret that he didn’t go.
    After all, he had nothing to lose, did he? There was nothing for him in New York. And she promised plenty of whiskey, enough to keep him comfortably numb for the next few months if he needed it, enough to keep his memories comfortably at bay.
    Still…
    “I’ll go,” he said roughly.

Chapter 2
     
    Ana gritted her teeth as he tripped once again, throwing the whole of his weight onto her shoulder. She struggled to hold him before he braced his hand on the wall of the stairway and regained his balance.
    “Sorry,” he muttered. “M’ room’s not far.”
    She said nothing. It was late, and she was tired. The events of the day settled in her stomach like a lead weight. She glanced at the man beside her. He was very, very drunk, and a man used to being that way, it seemed. Her heart sank. What had she done? Why had she listened to Davey when he told her Cain D’Alessandro was trustworthy?
    He was a drunkard, and a doctor to boot. A
doctor
. The word filled her with revulsion. Thank God he had turned down her offer of sex. She wasn’t sure she could have let him touch her.
    Normally she would have found a man like Cain D’Alessandro attractive enough. He was tall and broad shouldered, though he was strangely lean, his clothes too loose. His dark, thick hair fell to his shoulders. Much too long, she thought. Unkempt.
    But the most compelling thing about him was his eyes. They seemed too large in the gauntness of his face, accentuating the hollowness of his cheeks, the high, broad cheekbones that suggested Spanish ancestry. But mostly, the dark brown depths of his eyes seemed to hide secrets. Haunting, painful secrets…
    “Up here.” D’Alessandro rounded the top of the stairs. His fingers were white where they grasped the corner. He stumbled at the top step and slumped against the wall. “Thisss room.”
    .
Haunting and painful indeed
. Ana brushed by him, twisting the lever on the flimsy door and pushing it open.
    It was a cheap boardinghouse room, like hundreds she’d seen before, with one dim lamp. She lit it quickly, glancing over her shoulder at D’Alessandro, who still leaned against the wall outside. She shouldn’t have ordered that last bottle, she thought grimly. At least he’d been coherent before.
    She stood in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you coming in?”
    He blinked, pulling himself upright. He wavered there for a moment. “Of course,” he said carefully, the slurring barely under control. “It’s my room, isn’t it?”
    “I assume so.”
    ” ‘I ‘ssume so,’” he mimicked. “Duchess’s a good name for you. Better’n Ana.”
    She watched him impassively, not moving. It was the only way to deal with a drunkard, she knew from experience. Don’t goad them, let them talk and fall until they pass out. Oh yes, she knew plenty about drunkards.
    He walked toward her unsteadily. “You’re pretty, y’know? Don’t know how I’ll keep m’ hands off you.”
    A flutter of apprehension shivered through her. Ana ignored it. It was the drink talking; only a few hours earlier, he’d told her himself that sex didn’t interest him.
    “Go to bed,” she said evenly.
    “T bed.” He smiled. “Be happy to.”
    He stopped even with her, a mere few inches away, and Ana found herself staring at his chest, at the crumpled vest that hung open to reveal a stained shirt. His thin silk tie was undone, hanging limp and loose from around his neck, and his collar was unfastened so she could see the tanned skin of his throat, the start of the dark curls on his chest. Ana swallowed. She raised her eyes, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling pitching