“How gracious of you,” she muttered. Turning her back on him, she limped over to the Katie Moira. She stiffened as she heard Morrison coming after her.
“What’s the matter with your ankle?”
“Nothing!” She nearly slipped on the wet grass and gasped at the fresh pain that spiked up her bruised limb. Morrison seized her arm to steady her.
“Come on, little girl. Get inside.”
“I have experienced quite enough of your hospitality, Mr. Morrison.” But her dignified speech was ruined by the way her teeth chattered. Her gown clung to her, now thoroughly soaked, making her miserable.
Morrison appeared in little better shape. His fancy shirtwaist was likely to be ruined, his wet hair was plastered to his brow, but he only laughed. He slid his arm about her waist, the other swooping behind her knees to lift her off her feet.
“Hey!” Rory cried. The gesture was not in the least romantic. He hefted her as though she were just another chair to be moved into the house at his convenience.
“Put me down!”
He paid her no heed. He was too busy shouting more orders to some straggling servants. She drew back her fist and thumped him hard on the chest. It was like pounding on a brick wall.
As he toted her toward the house, he looked down at her and grinned. “If it weren’t for the lightning, I’d stay out here. I forgot how much fun it is to romp about in the rain. My mother used to give me pure holy hell for it.”
“So did mine—” Rory began, then recollected herself. “You put me down right now!”
“What! Right here in this puddle?”
She saw the disconcerting twinkle in his eye and knew the infernal man was fully capable of doing such a thing. Although she despised herself, she wrapped her arms about his neck in alarm. With gritted teeth, she endured being carried into the house.
She caught a glimpse of the bedraggled guests crowding into a large parlor. Someone was striking a match to the gas jet in the fireplace grating. But Zeke Morrison carried her in the opposite direction.
“Too crowded in there. We’ll find some quiet spot to dry you out and then have a look at your ankle.”
“Dry me out? I am not a wet dishcloth! And you are not looking at my ankle!”
He ignored her protest, even when she squirmed in his arms. Far from being furious now, Morrison seemed to find everything she said damned amusing. But as he carried her into the front hall, Rory’s struggles abruptly ceased.
As she stared about her, she was awed in spite of herself. The scrolled ceiling that towered over her head was as impressive asthe rotunda at City Hall. The crystal chandelier glittered even on such a gloomy day, and the marble staircase seemed to wind upward into eternity.
At the foot of those stairs, barring Zeke Morrison’s path, stood the most elegant woman Rory had ever seen. She had masses of icy white-blonde hair and frigid blue eyes. Unlike the other guests, she appeared untouched by the storm breaking outside.
Mrs. Morrison? Rory wondered. Although beautiful, the woman looked too old to be Zeke’s wife.
Yet there was something very proprietary in the way she demanded, “What are you doing with that girl, John?”
Morrison should have been embarrassed enough to set her down at once. Goodness knows, Rory felt her own cheeks burn as though she had been caught doing something wrong.
“Please,” she hissed. “Put me down. I swear I can walk.”
Although he continued to smile, the belligerent tilt of his jaw became prominent again. Yet he seemed to sense Rory’s embarrassment at being seen cradled in his arms. He lowered her reluctantly to her feet, explaining to the woman, “Miss Kavanaugh had sustained some injury to her ankle.”
“That is hardly your concern,” came the cool reply. “I imagine the police will provide her with whatever medical attention she needs. I have taken the liberty of summoning them.”
“Police?” Rory gasped at the same time Zeke demanded, “What the hell did you do that for?”
The woman’s fine brows arched upward. “These circus people vandalized your lawn.”
“On the contrary,” Zeke retorted. “I have it on the best authority that my lawn vandalized Miss Kavanaugh’s balloon.”
“I doubt Captain Devery will share your levity, John. There are still, thank God, laws that protect people from the wanton destruction of their property.”
“But it was an accident,” Rory faltered, a sick feeling clutching her stomach. She had never expected this misadventure to end with her being thrown into jail.
