Where the hell had it come from?
Her breathing was shaking, almost shuddering through her as she seemed to gasp for breath.
She blinked desperately, finally, mercifully gaining control and unable to understand exactly what had happened.
It terrified her, though.
The sense of panic, of impending doom grew stronger, and finding the strength to gather her courage enough to walk out of the room took everything she had, because every instinct she had was screaming at her to run. To hide. To ensure no one else died because of her.
She felt like a coward. Like that little girl who had begged her mother to just send her back to her father so no one else could ever be hurt again.
Her eyes closed.
She hadn’t remembered that, but now that event was so vivid in her mind, so fresh it might have happened only yesterday.
She remembered sobbing after she had learned Sister Mary was dead and how the Reverend Mother and sisters had died at the convent. Her mother hadn’t meant for her to know. Tehya had slipped out of bed and crept to the top of the stairs and listened to her and Matthew Thomas talking.
Her mother had been crying, blaming herself, and Matthew had been struggling to comfort her when he glanced up and saw Tehya.
For just a second, she had seen a look of resentment, of accusation in his gaze. He had blamed her for the danger her mother faced, and the deaths that had followed them.
Tehya had broken down then. She had screamed, sobbed, demanded her mother call Sorrel to come for her. Demanded that they let her return so everyone would be
safe again.
In a way, she felt as though she were now coming full circle, even though he was dead.
And she knew it would explode around her tonight.
She just prayed. She prayed as she had never prayed in her life, that no one died.
As she finally pushed back that terror and gathered the frayed threads of her courage together, a quick knock at the door had her flinching so viciously her teeth jerked together.
She was a mess tonight, and she knew it.
Moving to the door, she paused. “Yes?” Caution weighed heavily on her shoulders now. The knowledge that so many were willing to risk their lives for her made her second-guess every move.
“It’s John, Tehya.”
She opened the door slowly until she stared back at the handsome form of one of the men she had worked with for the past six years.
Dressed in a black silk tux and startling white shirt, he looked both dangerous and charming. Dark blond hair fell over his brow as he watched her with somber concern.
“I believe I’m escorting you to the party,” he informed her with a quick smile.
She glanced behind him. “Where’s Bailey?”
His wife was normally right at his side.
“She’s waiting in the foyer just outside the ballroom with Kell and Emily,” he informed her. “I’ll escort you both in.”
“I guess I’m ready, then.” She knew her smile was tight, the tension radiating through her body not as well hidden as she would have liked.
It would lend weight to the illusion they were attempting to portray, though, she told herself as John held his elbow out to her.
Curving her fingers beneath his arm, she drew in a deep breath and turned with him to walk down the wide hall to the curved staircase that led to the foyer.
The dress whispered around her, sliding against her flesh and reminding her of Jordan’s touch even as the derringer strapped to her thigh reminded of the gift he had given her several Christmases ago. Extra protection, he’d told her with a small quirk of his lips.