Page 116 of Native Hawk
She’d never spoken much about her father to Drew…or anyone, for that matter. At first, it was because she didn’t want to be found. Her father’s name was well-known enough that a decent detective could track her back to her estate in Italy.
Once she’d met Drew and he’d proposed, she knew her father couldn’t command her any longer. He couldn’t summon her home to marry the man of his choice, because she already had a husband.
But she didn’t want any questions at the wedding. She didn’t want her friends asking why her family hadn’t come. So she’d let them believe she was an orphan.
Afterward, it had haunted her that she hadn’t told her father about any of it. He might be a domineering, demanding man who thought his daughter was a prize to be used for political gain.
But he was generally good. He’d given her food and shelter, taught her right from wrong, and spoiled her with the comforts of nobility. He deserved to know the truth.
She chewed at her lip. When was Drew going to get here? She rushed to the window again. He was still down there with the package, chatting with Mr. Parker.
“Drew!” she yelled.
“On my way.”
He gave a tip of his hat to Mr. Parker and then loped toward the house.
She turned her back to the window and began wringing her hands. What had her letter said? She closed here eyes, trying to remember.
She’d apologized for leaving in such haste, of course. But she hadn’t apologized for leaving. She’d told him she couldn’t marry the man of his choice and was following her dreams. That much was true.
But the crux of the letter, she was ashamed to admit, was intentionally misleading.
She’d told her father she was getting married to the grandson of a great lord in California.
It wasn’t exactlyuntrue. Drew’s father had been the headman of his people, the Konkow.
What she’d omitted, however, was the fact that the Konkow were a small tribe of natives who lived in stick houses, wore doeskin skirts, and subsisted largely on acorns and deer.
She was sure her father would never approve.
She gulped. What if he was coming to visit? What if he showed up and had the marriage annulled, stripped off her wedding ring, and dragged her back to Ferrara?
The breath caught in her chest.
Then she heard steps on the stairs.
She rushed to the door, opening it before Drew had even reached for the doorknob, and snatched away the package.
“Greedy girl.” He laughed and clucked his tongue. “I’d hate to see what you’re like at Christmas.”
She dropped the package on the bed and took the scissors out of her apron pocket to cut loose the strings.
“It is from my father,” she explained to Drew.
“Your father?”
Her fingers were trembling. It was ridiculous, she knew. Even if the package contained something bad—a document disowning her or an official demand for her to return to Italy—it no longer had any legal effect on her. She was now the citizen of a new country.
Still, she held her breath as she unwrapped the paper and opened the box.
“What is it?” Drew whispered.
There was a note on top. She read the first sentence and lowered herself on shaky legs to the bed.
“Is everything all right?” Drew asked.
“I am not…” She read the rest quickly and then lowered the note to her lap.
