Shannon Drake - Reckless

At last, he saw her. Behind a pillar on the porch, he watched as she made her way down the street. She slowed before reaching the house, and must have been dismayed to realize that he was outside. She hovered by a mulberry bush, certain that he must give up soon and go into the house.

He did not.

At last she wandered by, twirling a piece of impossibly brilliant hair between her fingers. “Sir Hunter!” she said, sounding politely surprised.

“My dear girl,” he replied just as pleasantly. “Wherever have you been?”

“Oh, not far,” she lied sweetly. “I just slipped out for…some air.”

“Ah. And did the air help any?” he inquired.

“Help with what?”

“The return of your memory, of course!”

“Oh! Well, no…I’m so sorry. Yes, yes, of course, I had thought that a walk might bring much more to mind regarding my identity, but…alas, I’m afraid that it hasn’t been so.”

“Oh, dear,” Hunter sympathized.

“Will…will I be seeing Lord Avery and David Turnberry this evening?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Oh?” She sounded startled, certainly. And, actually, quite cross.

Understandable, given her circumstances.

He smiled. “Lord Avery has an old ticker, my dear. Heart, that is. He must rest tonight. He will come tomorrow.”

“I see.” She lowered her head quickly, hiding her disappointment. And trying to come up with a new plan, he imagined.

“I’m so sorry that you’re disappointed. However, we’ve a lovely dinner awaiting us, at your convenience.”

“How very kind of you. I… Would it be possible to dine in my room? I do believe the excitement of the day has made me quite tired.”

“But have you been out walking so very long? I was under the impression that you’d had a nice long nap this afternoon after we returned.”

“Well, I did, yes, of course, but near drowning can be so very tiring!”

“Mrs. Johnson has a meal prepared. We were only waiting for you to wake up. Imagine! We didn’t want to disturb you, but you were already awake and wandering about.”

“Right. Imagine,” she murmured. “But I am so very exhausted…”

“You must join me for a meal.”

She lifted her hand, smiled—her teeth grating beneath the facade, surely—but not at all certain how to escape his insistence. “As you wish.”

“As you wish,” he returned, but his tone gave evidence that they would, indeed, dine together. He walked to the door, opened it and indicated that she precede him. She did so, the sweet smell of rosewater drifting to his nostrils.

He followed her, showing her the elegant dining room to the right of the main entry, adjacent to the kitchen. A fire burned brightly and the table was beautifully set. He pulled out her chair, seating her with all propriety. Her head was lowered. When he took his own chair, she looked up and murmured, “This is all quite lovely. Thank you.”

He noted that she was looking at the clock on the mantel. Was her intent to slip back to her own home this evening? Or had she thought that she could sleep the night and be back before her father noticed her bed empty in the morning?

He waved a hand negligently. “Emma loves to cook. She doesn’t get the opportunity all that often.”

“You don’t eat?” she inquired with fake courtesy.

“I’m usually at my club, arguing with someone,” he admitted. “When I am in London.”

“Ah, yes. You are seldom in the country.”

“You knew that?” he asked.

“Of course. Your name is quite often in the papers.”

“Ah. So you remember reading the newspapers.”

She flushed but rebounded admirably. “Indeed, I do.”

Emma swept in then, bearing a large silver tray with delicate slices of beef and pheasant, generous servings of au gratin potatoes and greens. Ethan—handsomely attired in livery—was at her side, ready to serve.

Hunter noted that his guest sat up, savoring the aromas. He wondered then when she had last eaten.

“Child?” Emma said. “Oh, this is so difficult! We must call you something!”

“Mmm, true,” Hunter murmured. “It does seem rude to keep referring to you as ‘girl’ or ‘child.’” He watched as they were both served, and thanked both Emma and Ethan, then sat back in his chair, surveying his guest.

“Ah, well, soon enough, we must discover your real name!” he said. He smiled up at Emma. “But for the moment, well…”

“Perhaps she is a Jane,” Emma suggested.

“Possibly. Or Eleanor,” Hunter said.

Ethan poured glasses of wine, then looked up. “Anne, perhaps. It’s a popular name.”

“A lovely name,” he agreed, lifting his glass, and politely waiting as the girl realized that she must lift hers, as well. She did so; he took a sip of wine, and mused once again. “A name…a name…Adriana, for she so comes from the sea! But then again, into the sea, out of the sea…like a creature with many lives. I know—Kat!”

As he had expected, she choked on her sip of wine.

But then again, she recovered splendidly.

“Kat?” she inquired. She stared straight at him. “Why, sir, how amazing. It does have a most familiar ring.”

“Kat?” Emma said.

“Kat, Kathy…Katherine,” Hunter said. “At any rate, my dear, you will always be our little Kat, then. And like the creature, the cat, may you have nine lives!”

She lifted her glass, coolly observing him.

“Cat!” he repeated. “Ah, yes, the most clever of creatures. Yet one known for the danger of its curiosity. And, hmm, cat…a sweet lovely creature that curls on the sofa at night, and then again, the kind of creature that prowls the jungle, ever searching for prey.”

The coolness in her eyes turned to fire. How they blazed at him!

“Mistress Kat,” Emma murmured. “Will that be all right, my dear? Until we learn otherwise?”

“It will be lovely,” Kat assured her.

Emma nodded, pleased, and absented herself from the dining room with a swish of her petticoats. Ethan shrugged and followed in her wake.

“Lovely,” Hunter murmured, ready to address his meal.

“Lovely!” she repeated, her voice low, sweetly dangerous. And he looked up to see that her expression was one of fury. “You wretched—bastard!” she cried.

“Good heavens!” Hunter’s eyes widened in mock horror. “What language from such a gentle maiden.”

“You should rot in hell,” she declared heatedly. “You followed me!”

“I did,” he informed her flatly.

“You’d no right!” she cried in dismay.

“Indeed, I had every night. I might well have been nurturing a viper at my bosom.”

She started to rise. “Sir Hunter, I’m sure you’ve nurtured many a viper at your bosom, and with the greatest pleasure! I did not ask you to ‘rescue’ me from the sea—you chose to do so. You’ll remember that I awoke in your carriage and that it was you who caused me to bump my head! And now it will be you who…who…”

She seemed at a loss for words.

“Who what?” he demanded, suddenly angry. “Who will betray you? No, what I need to know for myself is not necessarily information I will share. Play your little charade tomorrow for Lord Avery and your precious David Turnberry. I’ll not give you away.”

“Why not?” she asked warily, still tense, half risen, half seated.

“Sit down, Kat. That is what they call you, correct?”

“Kat…Katherine. I’m sure your hearing is excellent,” she muttered.

“Sit down. Emma worked hard on this meal. For her sake, you will enjoy it.”

Rigidly, she took her position once again.

Then she winced. “You will really let me meet with David and Lord Avery as if…as if I were…”