Marshal and the Heiress by Patricia; Potter

voice shaking slightly.
    His eyes turned very hard, as if her stumbling explanation was even worse than her invasion of his quarters.
    â€œI thought Sarah Ann would be sleeping here,” she continued. “I only wanted to look in and make sure she was warm enough … and that she wasn’t frightened.”
    His eyes held disbelief, and Lisbeth felt a chill. Suddenly, a horrifying idea flashed into her mind. “You don’t think I intended to hurt her?”
    â€œI don’t think anything,” Masters replied harshly. “I just don’t like people sneaking around in the night.”
    Lisbeth was outraged.
    â€œThis is my house, and I don’t sneak, ” she said through clenched teeth. “Neither do I have animals so ill-bred they bite their hostess—and their bloody owner to boot.”
    He was silent for a moment, then, amazingly, he began to laugh.
    â€œYou’re right on one count,” he said. “Annabelle is obviously ill-bred. We found her on the streets of Boston and she’s so used to fending off villains, I guess her instinct is to attack first and ask questions later.”
    â€œNot unlike her owner,” Lisbeth observed bitingly.
    He unexpectedly winced. “Only with intruders in the night. Now, let me see that hand.” He took hold of her arm, which was bleeding slightly from cat scratches, and, with one finger, pulled up the sleeve of her nightclothes.
    Lisbeth’s first reaction was surprise at his gentleness. How could such large hands be that sensitive? His thumb ran over the newest scratches, and the ones created earlier in the morning. “They’re not bad, but I’ll have to apologize for Annabelle,” he said. “She won’t do it for herself. She believes herself quite above the law. She pays attention only to Sarah Ann, and that rarely.” His voice held a wry note of admiration, as if he thoroughly approved of the cat’s unruliness.
    Lisbeth frowned. Henry the Eighth was no paragon of virtue, but he didn’t run around chasing cats or biting everyone in sight, not even Barbara, though, once or twice, Lisbeth had secretly wished he would. Sometimes Henry was too good-natured for his own good. The same certainly couldn’t be said of Annabelle.
    Her eyes had narrowed. “Annabelle. What an innocent-sounding name.”
    The corner of Masters’s mouth turned upward in a crooked smile, and she had the impression he didn’t smile often.
    â€œIt is, isn’t it?” he agreed. “I’ve often thought her rather ill-named, but Sarah Ann was quite insistent.”
    He had finished inspecting her hand and arm, and his gaze rose to her face. The searching look in his sky-blue eyes seared through her bones.
    â€œYour hand must have been burned,” she said, trying to break the sudden intensity between them. “I’ll get something for it.”
    He shook his head. “I’m not letting you get away that easily.”
    Lisbeth cocked her head.
    â€œI still want to know why you came into the room.”
    â€œI told you,” Lisbeth retorted, her anger returning. “I thought it was Sarah Ann’s. This house gets very cold … and I know it must be a little frightening. I—” She stopped. She didn’t want to tell him how many times she’d been terrified as a child.
    His eyes were like a sword probing for a weak point in her armor.
    â€œWhy are you in this room?” Lisbeth went on the attack.
    â€œBecause Sarah Ann likes that bed, and I don’t,” he replied.
    She looked dubiously at the single bed he’d chosen.
    â€œI’m used to simple things,” he said sarcastically. “Isn’t that what you all believe? That I’m a fortune hunter who’s latched onto a child heiress?”
    It was what they all thought. Had thought. She wasn’t so sure anymore what she thought. He was unlike any man she’d ever