She kissed the tips of her gloved fingers and brushed them over his eyelids, then turned and left the room quickly, the goblet cradled to her breast. The room was dark. Only a single candle flickered in a glass chimney on the dresser, and it was mostly burned away. When Lady Claudia's shadow had passed from sight, and the candle flame had ceased its momentary dance in salute of her passing, the room settled to a deep shadowed gold. Tapestries hung heavy on the walls and beaded curtains filled the doorway. The bed was canopied, its drapes thick and lush. All sound was deadened, and only Patrick's steady breathing, stirred the motionless air. Claudia stopped and stood very still in the center of the next chamber. Her heart hammered in her chest. A soft voice whispered to her from the shadows. "If you press any harder on that glass, Lady, you will certainly crush it." The voice floated from the shadows. Claudia did not turn. She stood in a sitting room centered by an ornate fireplace. To either side of this were curtained alcoves. There was a fainting couch along one wall, and several comfortable upholstered chairs gathered in a semi-circle before the hearth. There was no fire. It was summer, and there would not be need of heat for several months, but Claudia felt a sudden chill.
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