Page 57

“My name is Felicity Andrews,” she said. “What’s yours?”
“Bean, ma’am.”
“Bean?”
The little waif shot her a beguiling smile. “My real name’s Beatrice Nim. Bea Nim, you see. But everybody calls me Bean.”
Felicity couldn’t help but grin. “Hello, Bean. I’m sorry you had to miss your sleep.”
“No matter, ma’am. With all the chores I do here at Falcon’s Lair, I’ll be asleep again quick as a fox.”
Felicity rubbed her stiff neck and watched as the maid placed a tray on the table before crossing the room to pile more logs on the fire. That finished, she bowed her way from the room and hurried away, presumably to her bed.
It was simple fare. Simple but satisfying. Several thick slices of hard-crusted bread. Slabs of cold roast beef. A hunk of cheese. A mug of tea. And a tankard of ale.
Felicity ate the first slice of bread smothered with meat and cheese quickly and washed it down with ale. At once her spirits improved. Feeling warmer now, she removed her cloak and spread it before the fire to dry. Then she ate the rest of the meal slowly, while she removed her shoes and stockings and wiggled her toes in contentment.
As the ale and food slowly built a layer of warmth in her stomach, she felt her fears evaporating. A good night’s sleep was what she needed. She sipped her tea. By morning the worst would be behind her, and she could begin to enjoy this adventure for what it was. A chance to meet her father’s old friend. An opportunity to see England. A glimpse of her father’s past and perhaps her own future.
She rummaged through her valise and withdrew a nightshift, then undressed quickly and pulled the simple gown over her head. As she crossed to the dressing table, she removed the pins from her hair. Freed of the restraint, it tumbled in wild disarray to below her waist. She sat down and picked up a brush. But as she began to smooth the tangles, she caught sight of something in the mirror that stopped her hand in midair.
“Sweet heaven!” She covered her mouth with her palm to keep from crying out.
A man stood in front of the window, his hands on his hips, his legs apart, in a menacing pose. He was dressed all in black, from his highly polished boots to the cloak tossed rakishly over his shoulders. He would have been fashionably dressed several centuries ago. But it was his scowling face that almost stilled her heart and caused her breath to catch in her throat. It was the face she had seen outside the window of the coach. The face of the horseman who had mysteriously disappeared.
“You!” She dropped the brush with a clatter and whirled to face him. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”
“Yours, is it?” His voice was a low, deep growl of anger. “You arrive a nameless stranger on these shores, and already you’re laying claim to Falcon’s Lair?”
“No. I didn’t mean…” She caught herself before she could apologize. Her tone sharpened. “How did you get in here without being seen?”
“I’ll ask the questions, wench. Who are you, and what are you doing at Falcon’s Lair?”
“You don’t think I’d bother to answer a madman, a…lecher.” While she spoke she darted a look around for an escape route.
Reading her intentions, he moved so quickly that it seemed no more than a blink of the eye. One moment he was at the window, the next he stood barring the door.
Now her panic deepened, constricting her throat until she could barely speak. What sort of evil monster was this? She stared around the room in search of a weapon with which to defend herself. “Are you telling me you’ve been here since I arrived? That you stood there and watched me undress?”
Seeing her fear, he gave a dangerous, chilling smile. “Aye. A most charming sight it was, too. Though I’m sorry you managed the feat so quickly. I would have enjoyed it more if you had taken a bit of time. The sight of all that flesh was most erotic.”
“How dare—“Suddenly she’d had enough. It was the final straw in a crushing day. Racing across the room, she lifted a hand to the bellpull. She would have this madman taken away to an infirmary or an asylum where he belonged.
Before she could summon a servant, he stood beside her. Though he didn’t physically touch her, she found she could not lift her hand.
“Don’t be a fool. That would do you no good. The others can’t see me.”
At the nearness of him she felt a wave of heat, stronger and more intense than any fire.
“Where is this heat coming from?”
“Heat?” He went very still. “It is cold you should be feeling.”
She tried to free herself, but his strength was too great. With only the power of his mind, he was able to restrain her. All she could do was stare at him in stunned silence.
She was not the only one shocked. Standing so near, it was obvious that he had experienced something as well. Something that caused him to take a step back as though he’d been burned.
“What in the name of…?” He stared at her as if really seeing her for the first time. His gaze skimmed the small oval face, the full lips pursed in a little pout. She was breathtaking. Lips made for kissing. Skin like porcelain. Eyes more green than blue. And a mass of tangled curls the color of autumn foliage. An altogether appealing picture. But it was more than her beauty that attracted him. There was something else. Someinner strength that he found utterly fascinating.