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“Where are you sleeping?" A wicked black brow rose. "Why? Are you inviting me into your bed?" The words stung with their rudeness. Penelope stiffened as though she had received a physical blow. She waited a beat, sure he would apologize. Silence. "You've changed." "Perhaps you should remember that the next time you decide to go on a midnight adventure." He was nothing like the Michael she had once known. She spun on her heel, heading into the blackness, toward the place where Needham Manor stood. She'd gone only a few feet before she turned back to face him. He had not moved. "I really was happy to see you." She turned and headed away, back to her home, the cold seeping deep into her bones before she turned back, unable to resist a final barb. Something to hurt him as he'd hurt her. "And Michael?" She couldn't see his eyes, but she knew undeniably that he was watching her, listening. "You're on my land.” — Sarah MacLean