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Authors: Elizabeth Thornton

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BOOK: A Bewitching Bride
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She almost succumbed to his flattery, but then she remembered that they were playing a game. She pushed out of his arms. “I thought this was to be a serious test?”
“Were you serious when you mentioned Miss Mayberry’s name?”
“I was right about the first part,” she answered flippantly. “You’re always thinking about some woman. I may have gotten the name wrong.”
He scowled at her and muttered something she did not catch. “What did you say?”
“I said that if you’re going to turn this into a joke, we might as well stop.”
She didn’t know whether she had offended him or whether he was manipulating her into doing what he wanted. It didn’t matter. She was interested in his odd family and especially his grandmother and her prophecies.
“Read my mind, Gavin,” she said meekly.
He looked into her eyes. “Focus!” he commanded.
Brow furrowed, she focused. She was thinking of Mrs. Willows, the housekeeper at Craigmyle and the sumptuous clootie dumpling she made every Christmas.
“This won’t do,” he said. “Something is missing. I can’t see a thing.”
“Of course something is missing. You told me that your cousin could only read his wife’s mind when she was in grave danger.”
“What were you thinking of, just now, when I tried to read your thoughts?”
She dimpled. “Mrs. Willow’s Christmas pudding. She is our housekeeper, but before that she was our cook. I was just getting to the part of the favors she puts in the batter before she boils it.”
He emitted a low growl. “You
are
in grave danger. Why won’t you believe it?”
“Ah, but I’m not alarmed or agitated at the moment. I think that would make a difference.”
“You’re not alarmed?”
“No.”
“You would be if you could read my mind.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”
“There’s no one around. Who would see us if we made love among the sand dunes? I’d begin by unbuttoning every little button on your jacket.”
She slapped his hands away when he reached for her. “Will you be serious?”
“I’m perfectly serious.”
When she looked into those burning eyes, her throat went dry. She believed him. Her heart wasn’t racing; it was sprinting. The danger came from inside herself, not from him. When he reached for her again, she ducked under his arms, picked up her skirts, and began to run.
It was then that the sky opened and the rain came down in torrents. In a matter of moments, she was drenched to the skin. A quick look over her shoulder showed that Gavin fared no better, worse, in fact, because he was trying to control an umbrella that the wind had blown inside out.
She giggled, shook her head, and plowed on. Gavin was shouting for her to stop, but she didn’t listen. She knew every nook and cranny on the beach and dashed toward the shelter of a narrow stone tunnel that ran beneath Beach Road. She had almost reached it when she lost her footing on some pebbles and went sprawling into a puddle of brine. It took a moment for her to catch her breath, then she hauled herself up. A few steps took her to the bridge. Now that she was out of the driving rain, she scanned the beach. There was no sign of Gavin, no sign of anyone.
When hands gripped her shoulders from behind, she gave a muffled shriek and spun to face him. “You!” she cried. “You gave me a fright! You were supposed to chase me. You came in the other end. That’s cheating!”
He didn’t share her mirth. He looked mean and dangerous, his face hard, his eyes leaping with anger. “What in hell’s name do you think you were doing, running from me like that? Don’t you know that if someone were to kidnap you, or worse, this would be an ideal spot?”
She spoke quietly, softly, as if she were trying to soothe a lion with a thorn in its paw. “No one knew that we were coming to the beach or that I would take shelter under the bridge.”
“That’s not the point.” His voice still bristled with anger. “Don’t ever run from me! Don’t try to hide from me. How do you think I felt when I turned around, and you were nowhere in sight?”
She put out her hand and touched him briefly. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”
He was breathing hard, his nostrils were flared, but she could tell that he was no longer angry. All the same, she dared not smile or comment on the drenching they’d taken. His hair was plastered to his head, his coat looked to have shrunk a size, and he’d lost his hat and the umbrella.
She looked down at her own outfit and saw that it was glued to her body like a coat of plaster. Raindrops dripped from the brim of her bonnet and ran down her neck in a steady stream. She began to shiver, and her teeth chattered. In a useless attempt to stop the shivering, she hugged herself with her arms.
“Good God!” he exclaimed, “what happened to you? You’re as soggy as a wet sponge.”
Through chattering teeth, she got out, “I tripped and fell into a puddle.”
He shook his head. “You really do need someone to look after you, don’t you! No, don’t answer. We’ve got to get you back to the hotel before you come down with pneumonia.” He put one arm around her shoulders and clasped her to the shelter of his body. “Hang on tight, and I’ll get you back in no time. Then it’s a hot bath for you, milady.”
She loved his warm smile and the look in his eyes. Though she felt miserable, she managed a wobbly smile of her own.
It did not take them long to return to the hotel. Even so, by the time they entered the back door that led to the kitchens and servants’ quarters, Kate’s teeth had clamped together in a death grip, and she was shaking uncontrollably. She heard Gavin issue orders, then he whisked her into the servants’ staircase, avoiding any guests who might be about, and was soon ushering her into their bridal chamber.
With the precision and indifference of a doctor caring for a patient, he stripped her of every article of clothing and wrapped her in the quilt from the bed. That done, he added coal to the fire in the grate.
“Feeling warmer?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Since she was the guilty party here, she felt that she ought to make amends. She opened her mouth and quickly shut it. He was stripping out of his own clothes, and she swallowed hard at the vision of male beauty that was revealed. His muscles were hard and tight. There wasn’t a vestige of fat on him. He didn’t look like the Gavin she knew from last night. Though they’d made love, she hadn’t seen him naked. This man looked as though he were an athlete or a mountain climber. When her gaze dropped to his groin, her mouth went dry. She wasn’t a complete novice now. He wanted her. Startled, she looked into his eyes.
“You can take that look off your face,” he said irritably. He began to towel himself off. “My arousal is nothing more than a reaction to the cold.”
She covered her chagrin by fussing with the quilt.
He dragged his shirt on, then his trousers. “I don’t need to read your mind,” he said. “I can see everything in your face. Rest assured, I am not about to pounce and have my wicked way with you.”
He had that backwards but she couldn’t tell him that. Nothing brilliant came to mind, so she sat there in misery, clamping her teeth together to stop them from chattering.
Two footmen arrived with a copper tub, then a stream of servants with pails of hot water, which they proceeded to empty into the tub. As soon as the servants left, he locked the door, plucked the quilt off her, and tugged her into his arms. That done, he slowly immersed her in the warm bathwater.
“Tell me if it’s too hot,” he said.
“It’s . . . lovely.”
Gradually, her teeth stopped chattering, her breathing evened, and she closed her eyes as the warm water lapped her chin. It was heavenly, like floating in the Gulf Stream that lapped the shores on the west coast. She drifted in a sea of pleasure. She felt the warm brush of his lips against hers. Was she dreaming? She wanted more.
How could anyone, she wondered, put such feeling, such yearning into one feather-soft kiss? Kate tried to make her mind work, but her body was doing its best to make her forget to think. The softest of touches brushed her throat, then dropped to the curve of her breast. She felt herself go moist in response and let out a shivery sigh.
When the touches stopped, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyes, framed by a sweep of dark lashes, studied her intently. His breathing was audible.
And then it came to her. “You’re putting thoughts into my mind! That’s it, isn’t it? You told me that that was your gift! Is this how you make your women compliant, Hepburn? Mmm?”
He began to laugh. “I thought you didn’t believe in the transfer of thoughts between people. Isn’t that why you wouldn’t cooperate when we were practicing on the beach? Make up your mind, Kate. You either believe, or you don’t. Which is to be?”
“Tell me your grandmother’s prophecy, and I’ll tell you whether I believe or not.”
“Oh, no. That would be too easy.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’d be interested to know what thoughts you think I put into your head.”
“Murder and mayhem,” she answered sweetly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to dry myself off and get dressed.”
He helped her out of the tub, then draped a voluminous towel around her shoulders. She couldn’t avoid his probing stare. “What?” she demanded, hoping to sound in command of herself, though her knees felt weak, and her voice was no better.
“I didn’t put thoughts in your mind, Kate.” He gave her a moment to let his words sink in. “I was reading your mind. You forgot to retreat into your fortified castle, you see. I couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss you.”
He gave a devilish grin when her jaw dropped. “We’ll practice later,” he said. “Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it to anyone but me.”
“You’re going to leave me alone?”
“I’m not going far, only to Dalziel’s room. This won’t take long.”
“But . . .”
She was talking to thin air.
 
 
Gavin had only five minutes to wait before Dalziel walked through the door. It took him a moment or two to work out what was different about Will’s man of business. Dalziel’s shoulders no longer drooped, energy radiated from him, and his habitual frown was replaced by a finely drawn look of determination.
There were no greetings or the usual pleasantries. Dalziel pulled up a chair and said at once, “Everything went as planned. I followed your instructions to the letter. No one followed us, but in the event that our villain will be making the rounds of first-class hotels, he’ll find your name on the register and the bridal suite booked for several days.”
He’s enjoying this,
thought Gavin.
Maybe Dalziel has missed his calling.
“What happened at the police station?”
An expansive grin spread slowly across Dalziel’s face. “I was a little worried about my reception, but they could not have been more helpful. Of course, they’d been instructed by the Home Office to give me whatever they had and answer all my questions.”
“We have my brother to thank for that. Go on, what did you discover?”
Dalziel pulled a notebook from his pocket and referred to his notes as he spoke. “There have been three suspicious deaths in Aberdeen that seem linked—”
“They found the notes?”
Dalziel nodded. “The police have had them all this time, but they didn’t connect the victims to the clinic, only to the notes. They believe that one man is responsible for all three deaths. They’re calling him ‘the preacher,’ but there is no push, as far as I can tell, to solve the case.”
“Because the victims are not people of influence?”
“I’m afraid so.”
There was a long silence broken only by the raucous call of gulls. Gavin was thinking that their villain couldn’t be very happy at the way things had turned out. He’d want everyone to know that the deaths were connected to the clinic before he attempted to kill Kate. She would be one among many. Yet, he
had
attempted to kill her. That must mean that he didn’t know the police in Aberdeen had filed everything away and promptly forgotten it. Or it could mean that he was getting desperate.
Dalziel took up the thread of their conversation. “The communication between the Aberdeen police and the force in Ballater seems nonexistent. The left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing.”
“It’s the same in the secret service. Each agency guards its own patch. How else can they justify their existence?” Gavin stretched his cramped muscles. “I presume that the Aberdeen police know that Will is dead?”
“Yes. He is well-known here, but they believe what they read in the papers, that it was a tragic accident.” There was an interval of silence, then Dalziel said, “Have you considered laying all the facts before the police and letting them take it from there?”
“What facts? I only have a theory. They’re just as likely to make a note of it and file it away for future reference. I’m not about to take any chances with an incompetent police force. Now tell me what you found out about Mary Macbeth.”
BOOK: A Bewitching Bride
7.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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