I’m about to scream again, when Rhys grabs my wrist.
“What’s wrong with you?” He hisses. “Seriously, you are way too jumpy. It’s just Louis.”
The tall shadowy figure moves out of the darkened doorway and steps into my candlelit bedroom.
I recognise him immediately, even with his longish light ash brown hair mussed and ruffled from sleep.
It’s none other than Louis-Alphonse d’Beauvais - the boy who Rhys said was the son of a French Duke and an American party-girl hotel heiress.
He looks at me with confusion at first, then I see realisation and recognition dawn in his pale grey eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” he says with a sleepy smile. “The girl from the chapel. What are you doing here? You never mentioned that you’re a boarder.”
“I’m not,” I blurt out, before correcting myself. “I mean, I wa
