“Zachary?” “We must speak. Open the door,” he commanded. Myra jumped from her bed and grabbed her wrap. Without her layers of petticoats to cover her growing abdomen, her secret was threatened if he pushed his way through the chair that bound the door by its knob. “Can we discuss this in the morning?” Her voice shook and although she tried sounding calm and in control, her fear crept through. “Tis late and I’m in no mood for argument tonight.” “I don’t plan to ravish you, Myra, I promise.” She felt his smirk upon her as the words broke past the door. She didn’t trust him. His voice was gentle and almost human. Which meant it gave her great reason to distrust him. “It’s in regard to your visit to the cellar this evening.” He had something to hide, if not, she didn’t think he’d sound so full of concern. Myra bit her bottom lip and then nervously nipped at the tip of her fingernail. She wasn’t able to risk him barging through the door and replied with, “I’ll be down in a moment.” After his last visit, especially with his pistol, she refused to confront him in her bedchamber, but she still felt apprehensive about meeting him once dressed, in spite of where they met.
