Page 20 of When a Lady Kisses a Scot
“I know better than to believe everything I read.” She walked soundlessly over the thick Oriental carpet to the bed. “If you’re seeking to make peace with your father, you will not do so here.”
“I don’t give a farthing about making peace with the old goat.”
She curled her fingers around a massive mahogany bedpost, not quite spanning its circumference. “I suspect the man doth protest too much.”
“Balderdash. I’ve had enough of your diversions. I did not come here to discuss my father. I came here to find out where he stashed the blasted jewels.”
“Very well. I must focus my energies.” She moved to the other side of the bed, trailing her fingers along the carvings in the post. “Your father took his last breath in this bed.”
“So I am told.”
“You were out of the country when he passed to the other realm.”
Gavin nodded. “Again, a documented fact. At some point, I suppose you will tell me something I don’t already know.”
“You were in Paris at the time. You boarded a train within hours after receiving the telegram with the news.”
“Again, I am well aware of my own actions following my father’s death.”
Sophie dug her fingers into the dense pile of the black velvet throw at the end of the bed. Was she deliberately attempting to distract him? If so, she was doing a bloody fine job of it. For a breath, he watched her, allowing his debauched imagination to get the better of him.
“After the services for your father, his companion made contact with you.” The coolness of her words tore him back to reality.
He nodded. “I stated the same not more than five minutes ago.”
“Miss Malone wanted you,” Sophie said. “For the security you might offer her. Or perhaps, her desire was real. She’d no reason to believe you’d spurn her advances. After all, the gossips have had a jolly time discussing your rather unconventional inheritance—you share your father’s taste for women who require neither vows nor words of love.”
Something in the way she looked at him chafed like a cravat tied too tightly. He gave a purposeful shrug. “I make no claims at sainthood.”
“I feel her energy here.” Sophie met his gaze. “She gave your father joy. And she cared for him, in her own fashion.”
“You are aware Miss Malone is alive and, I presume, well?”
“Of course. Her present state of being has nothing to do with the unique mark she left on this place.”
Sophie had certainly perfected her act. The way she made a show of running her fingertips over the bedcovers seemed an especially cheeky touch. Any man with blood still running through his veins would keep his focus on her at such a moment. God only knew it took an act of fortitude to pull his attention back to his purposes.
He forced a bland expression. “I’ve no interest in theenergyleft behind by my father’s mistress. If anything gave her joy, it was flaunting the diamonds the old man doled out.”
“Your energy is negative. I cannot guarantee contact with your father as long as you maintain this pessimistic view.”
Oh, that was bloody rich. Now she’d attempt to turn his justified skepticism into an excuse for failing to contact his father’s no-doubt randy ghost.
“Is it possible your corset has been laced too tightly? Has the blood flow to your head become constricted?”
He’d expected her cheeks to color and her chin to jut out ever so slightly, as tended to happen when he perturbed her. But she only regarded him with a look best described as serene.
“That is simply not possible.” She held his gaze, challenge dancing in her dark eyes. “You see, I do not wear one of those instruments of torture.”
“Very well, then.” A miracle the words made it past his lips in some semblance of a coherent response. “Perhaps we can get down to business. All this talk of Father’s mistress is entirely irrelevant.”
Once again, she ran her tongue over her lips. Her tactics were effective, he had to admit. For a moment, thoughts of his father and the nonexistent treasure faded away, replaced by an image of Miss Devereaux and her uncorseted curves lying on the decadent bed.
“I must respectfully disagree.” Sophie offered a glimmer of a smile. “Many believe you carried on an affair with her. After all, you provided a residence in this very hotel until she found another…protector. Yet you demanded nothing in return.”
How did she know of the arrangement he’d made on Miss Malone’s behalf? Sod it all, the manager must’ve run his mealy mouth all over London. He’d bloody well have a talk with Mr. Bailey.Discretion, indeed.
“I wanted nothing to do with the woman’sfavors. But it seemed only decent to provide a roof over her head until she had a chance to move on.”
