Sam pulled a small flashlight out of his hip pocket and handed it to her. “No. But the plan doesn’t call for any changes up here. You’re one of the only people I know who would get excited about this.”
She shone the small beam of light on the edge of the faded paper. Once upon a time it had probably been a cheery yellow. Now, the scattering of small flowers was barely visible on a field of cream. “There’s more under here, isn’t there?”
She sensed rather than saw him nod. “I’ve picked at the frayed part enough to tell that there are at least three more layers beneath this. I think that with an X-Acto knife we might be able to extract the various pieces so that you could look at them.”
“This is so damn cool!” She clapped her hand over her mouth and heard Sam laugh. “Is there or was there anything like this downstairs?” she asked, hoping to distract him from her failings.
“If so, it’s long gone. You’ll find Sheetrock and more modern building supplies. But I know Gram would be thrilled if you were able to find a paper similar to one of these and use it in at least one room…just to tie the past to the future.”
“I’d love to try. But why do you think they would have gone to the trouble to use wallpaper up here if it was for servants?”
“My guess is that the paper was a way to keep wind out. Back then, before roofing was really well done, I’m sure this area of the house was almost like living outside.”
“Hmmm.” Her brain raced even as she absorbed the fact that she and Sam stood shoulder-to-shoulder. He seemed to be almost deliberately crowding her personal space.
Her jacket was warm, and with Sam in touchable distance her blood was pumping. The cold didn’t even register at the moment. Nevertheless, she feigned a shiver. “I’ll come back up here one day when I can see better.”
“I could show you more treasures. Disintegrating silk dresses with bustles and button-up shoes. Old army uniforms. Collections of sabers and muskets. Even Gram’s wedding dress.”
She faced him, wondering what he would do if she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “It will keep, won’t it? I think I’m ready for bed. It’s been a long day.” She handed over the flashlight, and he tucked it in his pocket. But neither of them moved.
“Annalise, I…”
She’d never heard Sam Ely sound unsure of himself. And the scowl that etched tight planes on his face wasn’t encouraging.
Sexual tension arced and crackled between them. If it had been any other man, any other situation, Annalise would have initiated a kiss. But the specter of Sam from the past held her back. Guys like to do the chasing.
Confused, embarrassed and angry with herself for acting like a 1950s debutante, she turned abruptly. “I’m done here.”
She had taken three steps in the direction of the door when the lights went out. Her momentum carried her forward, and she tripped over something on the floor and stumbled to her knees. “Ouch, damn it.” Pain shot up her leg to her hip, and her big toe throbbed.
“Hold still. Don’t move.” Sam rustled behind her, and muttered beneath his breath when something fell to the floor with a loud thunk.
“What was that?”
“I dropped the stupid flashlight.” He crouched beside her, reaching out in the darkness. “Are you still in one piece?”
“Bruised but functional.”
“Let me help you up.” His arms went around her and they both froze.
“Sam,” she said, her voice unsteady. “That’s my boob you’re holding.”
He released her like a man backing away from a poisonous snake. “Sorry.”
She found his hand with hers. “Pull.” Gradually, wincing as her knee protested, she made it upright. “Okay then. I can walk.”
“Not without me, you can’t. Hold on to the back of my belt and I’ll get us to the door.”
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