Reckless. Shannon Drake

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СКАЧАТЬ 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…”

      “Their equal?” he suggested. “Oh, indeed. Since you feel you must.”

      A flush betrayed the edge of shame she was feeling. “My father is a fine man.”

      “Of that, I’m quite certain. And a talented one.”

      “He is talented! Don’t you dare mock him!”

      “I am not mocking him.”

      “Then don’t patronize me. You don’t know anything about him.”

      “Oddly enough, I do know a bit. I sincerely believe that he is an incredibly talented artist and that his light, as they say, has been hidden under a bushel for too long. And it was quite evident that he cares for you a great deal. He is a good man. And there is nothing wrong with your home or with your father’s being an artist. So why this charade?”

      She was instantly defensive. “Everyone must lead a slightly different life at times.”

      “If you say so.”

      “Well, you do!”

      “Do I?”

      “Traveling the globe, gadding about,” she said. “Digging into other peoples’ live! Ancient lives.”

      “There’s a difference.”

      “There is not.”

      “I do it as myself.”

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