Gnosis (44 page)

She didn't flinch. "Then you'll be leaving London, too, Mister Adams. And me."

It was Thorne who flinched, dropping his gaze. "I...I'm not 'leaving London,' nor anyone in particular." He freed his black mane from inside the shirt and smoothed the wrinkled linen into his breeches. "I merely return to my ancestral home to take up the reins where my father left off."

"And would that be, sir, the very place you've avoided like the plague, since he died? Where you've not ventured in four years, neither at Yuletide nor harvest?"

The barb pierced its target. In return, Thorne pierced Katy with a silent glare.

"Well then, be off, Mister Adams!" She rolled out of bed and flung on a wrapper, swiping a sleeve across her eyes in the same motion. "I've other gentleman callers to see today."

"Aye," Thorne muttered. "We've each our obligations, however less than noble." He fastened his waistcoat, yanking at the mother-of-pearl buttons.

"But you know mine. I know naught of yours."

So the fight wasn't over. "Nor would you care to," he said shortly, hoping to put an end to it.

"You think not?" Katy sashayed toward him, fists planted firmly on her ample hips. "Then all you know of me is that I sleep with men for my keep."

"And that it was not by your choosing," he said quickly--too quickly.

"Och, defending me against myself now, are you? And what does it matter how I got here? I am who I am, Mister Adams, and I'll be begging no pardons, even from you. Who the deuce
are
you this morn, by the by? Where's the man who's bedded me every se'nnight for four years?
He's
never judged me."

"Nor shall he." A snap of his wrist shook the folds from his neckcloth. He looped it around his throat, briefly considering hanging himself with it.

"Then look at me," Katy pleaded, tears constricting her words, "and tell me what summons you home with such haste you cannot linger another hour."

Thorne swallowed a sudden tightness in his own throat. "You ask too much of me," he said, fumbling with the long ends of his neckcloth.

"Och, sir, I've never so much as asked your true name, or whence you come. Here, let me." She brushed his hands aside and tied the linen with deft fingers. "All I know is that someone holds stewardship of your lands in your absence...has he died, that person? Is that why you must go?"

Thorne looked into her eyes--those emerald wells of compassion from which he'd drunk for four years now, believing that as long as he paid for the privilege, there would be no demand for his heart--long ago stolen and buried.

He'd been wrong. Wrong to think Katy's profession made her invulnerable. Wrong to keep calling here after he saw the signs. And wrong to confess to her that she was his first and only lover.

But he hadn't been wrong about his heart. Years ago gone with a young woman to her grave, its resurrection was out of the question.

The sun's first pale rays rippled over Katy's hair. Unable to help himself, Thorne touched an auburn lock before going on to trace the rose-petal softness of her lips. His pulse quickened as she caught his fingertip between gentle teeth.

Silently cursing fate, he hauled Katy to him, slipping her wrapper and shift off one shoulder to caress its smooth roundness. Rebelling suddenly at the passing time, as well as at other growing constraints, he slid his hand down to cup a full, firm breast. He encountered Katy's open palm instead.

He smiled into her eyes; he knew this game. "You would bargain your favors with me, Miss Devlin?"

"They are my stock in trade," she said, irony lacing her words.

Thorne's smile froze. "So they are--as you seem bloody bent upon reminding me this morning." He snagged his tricorne from the hat stand and strode toward the door. "I should have gone before sunup, at any rate."

"Mister Adams."

So grim was the note in her voice that he halted in his tracks and turned to meet her unblinking regard. Her tears were wiped dry.

"If you pass through that door, sir, without telling me who or what summons you away-" Katy took a deep, tremulous breath and squared her shoulders. "Then I shan't receive you again."

I won't be calling here again, Katy.
He knew he should say it, but the words stuck in his throat.

Awash in the rosy light of dawn, she stood with her gaze unwavering, hands loosely clasped, mussed hair tumbling to her waist over the nightclothes still drooping from one shoulder. That she made no move to rearrange herself only added to her dignity.

But Thorne feared that the anguished pride in those dry, green eyes would forever haunt his dreams.

In three strides he had her by the shoulders. He pressed his lips to her pale brow, then took a deep breath and drew back to look her in the eye. He owed her at least that much.

You owe her the truth. Every rotting word of it.

"I've a promise to keep," he heard himself say in a low, taut voice. "An obligation to fulfill." He firmed his hold on her shoulders and shook his head, scarcely able to believe it himself.

"I
must
go home, Katy...to meet my bride."

Secret

By Morinda Montgomery

Chapter One

Lets Have It

1812

“Brian!” Great, father always has to interrupt. I wonder what… shit! Morgan!

“I’m coming!” Damn this betrothal! Glancing around the room, I snatched up my notes and wrote down the failed experiments before heading down to the dining hall, fixing my hair on the way down the steps. Why did I even bother? Mayhap if I just left my hair a mess and looked uncivilized then Morgan’s father would just call the wedding off. Best not, Father would make my life Hell if I did that; best find another way to arrange that one.

Reaching the dining hall I noticed that Morgan and her father were already seated. I allowed a smile to quirk my lips as I noticed the fumingly lovely Morgan sitting across from my seat. Suddenly the interesting blend of honey and pine that only grew stronger when she was angry hit me. I cursed my heightened sense of smell as I strode toward the table.

~~~

I
’m not sure which angered me more about Brian’s entrance, the wide grin he had at the sight of my justified irritation or the slight hint of brief agitation that crossed his face as he got closer. Then there is the rest of my irritation, directed at every man in the room. His father for asking mine for this engagement, my father for accepting without so much as asking me for my opinion first, and Brian for being devastatingly handsome, arrogant, overbearing, pompous, and rude. Mostly for being handsome; no man had a right to look that good, even when he was a mess.

The well-muscled, tall, shaggy black haired Sir Brian DeMacleo was infuriating in all that he did. He treated me as if I were some sort of insolent child. The worst part was the way he smiled gentlemanly as he chided me. And now he strides over and bows!

“Good evening Lady Morgan, Sir Robert.” I watched as he turned his attention to my father, “Your daughter is as lovely in her anger as ever.” My jaw only tightened in anger as my father merely chuckled!

“Sir Brian, it is a good thing you enjoy her anger, for she seems to have no other mood as of late.”

“Why, it is entirely my fault, and I do apologize my lady. Had I been keeping track of the hour, I would have been waiting to seat you.”

That’s right, apologize, I fumed. Letting the bitterness seep into my voice, “Your tardiness is not a habit, I hope, but from the last few occasions we have met I would say it is.” I paid little attention as my father scowled at me.

“Forgive me my lady, for I have been distracted as of late.”

“Truly. May I make a request? Seeing as we are to be, wed, let us cast aside the formalities.” It wasn’t a request, even to my ears it sounded the demand it was. I couldn’t stand anymore of his polite chiding. Not to mention I should be making demands.

“Morgan, it would be my pleasure to speak to you less formally.” Brian elaborated with exaggerated glee.

“Just what are you so smug about?” The demand slipped out before I could stop myself.

“Morgan, mind your manners!” Father hissed. Brian only chuckled.

“I’m not apologizing for a question.”

“Then let me answer it.” Brian began, but his father cut him off.

“We should be having a delicious roast with carrots and potatoes. I have no idea what is taking so long.”

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. Eventually our parents would have to see what an impossible match we were. Not to mention how difficult it would be for me to slip away and fulfill my duty. What was Father thinking?! The only thing even remotely pleasing about Brian was that he appeared to be just as miserable as I.

~~~

A
s Sir Robert and my father began a conversation, neither Morgan nor I were interested in, the food was served with its mouthwatering smell and savory gravy; it was nearly impossible to eat like a civilized man instead of the monster I was. I cared little for anything but the overly juicy and perfectly roasted meat, but of course father eyed me disapprovingly until I ate some of the carrots and potatoes. They, also, were tender and juicy, having soaked in the broth of the meat. The simple aroma was pure ecstasy.

Looking across the table I watched as Morgan delicately nibbled at a piece of bread smothered in butter. A footman pulled me from my obsession of watching her eat when he asked if I would like a refill on my wine. I hadn’t even noticed myself drinking the tart substance. Silently nodding, I turned back to my own food.

How on earth could anyone take so long to eat? I was nearly done, and yet Morgan was still nibbling her bread! She was still fuming and yet there she sat with a full plate of food! When I get angry I hardly take time to chew before swallowing! Then again, I mused, I don’t have to chew half the time. My, primitive, side swallows everything in a few bites and with little effort in chewing.

~~~

T
he way Brian continued to stare at me as I ate only increased my anger. I had completely lost my appetite due to my anger, curse the man! All I wanted to do was have this evening over with. I dearly hoped to loose him at the masquerade ball in a few days. Spending the entire evening with him mocking me instead of doing what I wanted on my own was not my idea of a good time.

He would never let me go off by myself either; he has too much fun torturing me. Admittedly, I did have fun fighting with him, there were just other things that were more entertaining and exciting. I was sure he would be surprised to find out just what those other things were, but I planed on doing everything in my power to keep it from him, just as I have kept it from everyone but my father, who still doesn’t know just how much a part of my life it is.

“Lady Morgan, is something wrong with the roast? I can have my cook make you something else if you wish.” Sir Alex DeMacleo’s request broke into my thoughts.

“No, thank you, I’m afraid I don’t seem to have much of an appetite at the moment.”

“It’s a shame, Morgan; the roast is perfect tonight, just tender and juicy enough.” Brian chimed in as he took a bite of his bread and smiled at me.

“Why, thank you for letting me know what I was missing.” I hoped that sounded half as curt as I’d meant it to. It was no fun unless he was fighting back.

“I have a question. Was that formality agreement just between the two of us or does my father get to call you Morgan as well? And while I’m thinking about it, does that agreement mean you want me to start calling your father papa?”

I felt the smile quirk my lips as I replied, “Why Brian, darling, I wish for us all to call each other what we wish, if you want to call my father papa or, even,
daddy,
that is between the two of you. And your father may call me by my name instead of giving a title in front of it.”

“Some how I don’t see myself calling your father daddy, it’s more of a childish girl thing, but if you wish to call my father daddy I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”