Page 34 of A Daring Pursuit

There it was: the bill.

She angled her head to one side, contemplating him for a long moment. She was not used to sharing her deepest thoughts, fears—certainly not her dreams. Not with many and certainly not with men. His shoulders looked broad enough to carry some of her worries, but trusting him was another matter entirely. He didn’t wear his greatcoat, but he was big. An image of the man who’d visited her mother all those years ago appeared in her mind like an apparition. Ghostly and transparent. She shivered.

“What is it?”

Jarred back, she studied the concern etching his features in the creased forehead and lines bracketing his mouth. Rather than answer, Geneva went back to the escritoire and pulled a small, private case out. Quickly locating the yellowed, folded missive, she then strolled over to Mr. Oshea and held it out.

*

Noah reached forthe letter, not quite convinced it wasn’t a venomous viper. But of course, a piece of paper that looked years old couldn’t kill a person… Only, he knew that wasn’t true. He hadn’t known Julius’s true origins. He had in fact, being honest with himself, avoided what he would learn. But there were lies surrounding his younger brother’s arrival at Stonemare. Lies Noah had precipitated. Because, if he looked too deeply, he feared losing the brother he’d raised and so desperately loved.

With chilled fingers, he opened the note and read.

Lord Pender,

I beg of you, please. Things have turned most dire. My husband… is a violent man. You must do something to save my Gen… All that is precious to me is in your hands. Everything in my posse—

Nothing about Julius. Even in the areas impossible to make out, it was clear the author’s concern was over Miss Wimbley. Not indicating a claim to Julius.

Relief rushed through Noah and blood worked its way back into his hands, his face. He looked up to find Miss Wimbley watching him with an intensity that stole his breath. “I take it you are this “Gen” she refers to?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder why she didn’t finish it.”

“That’s not all that difficult to understand,” she said with a grim smile. “My fatherwasa violent drunkard. I suspect she heard him coming up the stairs and hid it away before he entered and for some reason never got back to it. In any event, I’m here to find answers, Mr. Oshea. I believe it was your father who visited my mother when I was but five years old. He took something from her that belongs to me. Something invaluable and cannot be replaced.Thatis what I’m here for.”

The coiling sensation in Noah’s gut tied into hard knots. He calmly handed the note back to her, keeping a tight rein on his emotions. “And what might that be?”

“A locket. A ruby locket my mother promised was my legacy,” she admitted, going back to the small desk and lifting the case.

Stunned by her words and at a loss for his own, he watched her slim, delicate fingers—stained with ink—gently take the case and replace the missive in its allotted place.

“I had hoped to speak with him, but of course, I arrived too late.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.And relieved.“I’m not sure how I can help you after almost twenty years.”

She turned quickly, spearing him. “Twenty years? You have quite a memory for something you would have no way of knowing.”

What a dolt he was. She was too shrewd by half. “I am at your service for any assistance you require,” he said quickly as visions swarmed him of the small parcel hitting the floor and the fragile chain that had reflected the firelight that night nineteen years ago. For all he knew, Father could have sold that tiny chain to pay some gambling debt. Likely had so.

Surprise lit her features, and… gratefulness, perhaps. “Truly?”

“Of course.” He failed to understand why he couldn’t shut his mouth and take his leave. As quickly as possible. It was the fault of those dark-blue eyes. They begged for his aid. Her lips begged for something else. Something only he could give her. He moved closer, unable to bear the distance between them a second more. She was so lovely.

Slowly, she straightened and turned her body, facing his. The tip of her pink tongue touched her bottom lip. The shot of lust hit him like a dagger, piercing his chest with unfulfilled need.

“Th-Thank you. I didn’t expect that,” she said softly.

He reached forward, allowing her time to move away if she so desired.

She didn’t.

He took her hands in his, leaned in, and brushed his lips over hers. They tasted sweet as a summer apple snapped straight from the tree. Her fingers moved up and clutched his lapels. His own hands gripped her by her upper arms. Over and over, he feathered her lips, touching the seam with his tongue.

Her lips parted on a surprised inhale. He didn’t hesitate and slipped inside.

She stilled.

---