Page 27 of When a Lady Dares
“Indeed.” She allowed a small smile. Controlling this evening was to her best advantage. He’d already gotten the better of her with the kiss, setting her off-balance, if only for a breath or two. She would not let him catch her unaware again.
If only she could work out his reasons for bringing her here, for the whole charade that had brought him to Trask. Stanwyck’s desire to lure his father back into this realm was no more genuine than her little chats with Esme. He made a show of being flippant, but beneath the cavalier remarks, his doubt was shaded with what seemed contempt for the endeavor. Did he fancy himself to be a debunker of spiritualists? Did he hope to unmask her as a fraud?
She’d have to keep him at bay, feeding him a morsel of Esme’s insights here and there, just enough to keep him on the scent. If he were simply a scientist out to expose a charlatan, she’d wish him well soon enough, after her time with Trask was over and she’d fulfilled the objectives of her mission. But for now, she could not risk him shredding her cover identity to ribbons.
“Are you able to sense his presence without your guide’s assistance?” Stanwyck asked, taking on a more serious tone.
“Without Esme to act as a liaison, my abilities are limited at best.”
“So, the old flirt is playing coy, is she?”
“Playing coy?” Sophie heaved a deliberate sigh. “I assure you Esme does not find such comments amusing.”
“Then she is here, after all.”
Sophie composed her features. “She is near. Perhaps, if you refrain from referring to her in such a flippant manner, she will come forward.”
“I’d no idea spirits were such dull creatures. One would think that over the centuries, the old girl would’ve cultivated a sense of humor.” He leaned closer, interest dancing in his eyes. “While we wait for Esme to put in an appearance, perhaps you will indulge a curiosity of mine.”
Sophie resisted the urge to down another sip of wine. She had to keep her head about her. Given the mischief in his gaze, he might well be thinking of kissing her again, if only to discombobulate her. Then again, unpredictable as he was, there was no telling what notion had caught his interest. “A curiosity? Of what sort?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Dash it all, were her emotions so readily transparent? She took a drink of water. “What do you have in mind?”
If he detected the tension in her voice, he chose to ignore it. “Trask informed me you’ve a knack for reading palms. Quite a talent for deciphering the lines and creases, to hear the man speak of it.”
“That was rather generous of him.” Sophie made an effort to keep her features placid.Generouswas an understatement. Full of horse droppings might’ve been more to the point. Why, she’d never read a palm in her life. Her only experience with the subject had occurred when Trask took her hand and proceeded to inform her that she was precisely what he was looking for in an assistant. He’d run his fingertip over her right palm, muttering some babble about the tiny brown mark in the center marking her as one who had been born with the gift of mediumship. What rubbish.
He extended his right hand as if for her inspection. “Tell me, Sophie. What surprises does life have in store for me?”
She slipped forward in her chair, making a show of taking a closer look. Searching her mind, she dug about for the vague pronouncements Trask had uttered while analyzing the matrix of creases on her hand.
Pointing to a line curving between his index finger and the base of his thumb, she infused what she hoped was the appropriate level of solemnity into her tone. “This line tells me that you’ve been gifted with a long life.”
He nodded. “Logical, it would seem, given the ripe old age at which my father enjoyed his last shag. And the fact that my mother is currently still very much on terra firma.”
“I can tell you only what I see.” She leaned closer, studying another line. “And this line…well, it indicates you will have great adventure in your life.”
“You don’t say.” Ah, that smug voice of his, regarding her as if she were concocting it all, and not in a particularly clever fashion. Of course, she was indeed pulling the predictions out of thin air and her imagination, but he did not have to see through them so readily.
“I would say it rings true, wouldn’t you?” she countered.
“I’ll give you that.” Once again, his mouth thinned into a semblance of a smile. A crocodile’s grin might’ve appeared more sincere. “You could say the expeditions fit the description. And of course, there was the time a sultan put a bounty on my head. Some silly commotion over one of his wives, as I recall.”
“A silly commotion, you say?” She kept her voice deliberately flat, only vaguely interested. He was a cheeky one, wasn’t he?
One shoulder lifted and fell. “The bloke had more women than he could handle, I’d say.”
“Of course,” she agreed. Somehow, she could well imagine his tale held as much truth as hers, but she certainly couldn’t let on about that.
With his left hand, he brought her fingers to his still outstretched palm, guiding her index finger to a line crossing the middle of his palm. The contact was gentle, nearly feather-soft. And yet, a current rippled through her, subtle and warm and not in the least bit alarming. Touching him felt natural. Right.Drat the man, this simple touch should not feel so bloody good.
“Tell me, Sophie, what does this line reveal?”
She pulled in a breath, then another. “I’ve asked you to address me as Miss Devereaux,” she said, stalling.
“I know. But that doesn’t answer my question.” He drew her fingertip along the slightly roughened skin of his palm. “What is this line trying to tell me?”
