Page 4 of One Wicked Kiss
“How scandalous,” the lady with Weston said. “I’m intrigued.”
“Darling,” Weston said in a husky tone. “You would be.”
A girl that couldn’t be much older than Natalia came into the foyer. She had strawberry blond hair and pale blue eyes. Her eyes were so light they were bordered on being a shade above the white snow blowing outside. The girl met Natalia’s gaze and frowned. “You poor dear,” she said earnestly. Her Irish accent was thick and lilted. “What an ordeal you’ve gone through.” She placed her hand on Natalia’s arm. “Do not worry, you’re safe here. No one will harm you while you’re at Klaus House.”
She had an ethereal beauty to her. Natalia felt immediately at ease in her presence. When she’d touched her it seemed as if all of her anxiety had melted away and she did indeed feel safe. “Do I know you?”
When the Weston’s traveling companion had asked her the same question her heart had seized inside of her chest. She didn’t like how the woman had stared at her. This girl didn’t seem nonplussed by it at all. “No, we’re not acquainted,” the girl answered. “But I have a feeling we will be friends. My name is Aine.”
“Aine,” Lucas interrupted their bonding moment. “Are you here to show us to our rooms?”
The girl nodded. “My mother has instructed me to see to your needs. I’ll put the ladies in one room, and you gentleman will have the one next to it.” She gestured toward a nearby staircase. “Please follow me.”
“We have trunks in the carriage. Can you have someone bring them up?” Weston asked. “The young miss definitely needs to put something dry on, and I wouldn’t mind a fresh set of clothes myself.”
“I’ll have someone see to it,” she said. Aine stopped in front of a door. “This is the ladies’ room.” She gestured toward a door a little farther down the hall. “And that one is for the gentleman. If you’ll excuse me I’ll see to your trunks. Once you’ve had time to change please join us below in the parlor for some festivities and storytelling. Christmastide is a joyful time here at Klaus House.”
Aine turned and left them alone in the hall. Weston’s lady friend pulled her into the room they were to share. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Lady Marin. You and I have something to discuss.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She was definitely not Weston’s wife then. Was she his mistress? Did her husband know where she was? “What do you wish to speak to me about?”
“First…” She sat on a nearby chair and waved her had dismissively. “Let’s drop the formalities. Please call me Callista.” Lady Marin met her gaze and lifted a brow. “Care to tell me your name now that we’re alone?”
Callista was far too perceptive. She did a wonderful job of acting frivolous around her lover, but she clearly had more intelligence than she let on. The lady seemed to see right through her. Natalia didn’t like it and she had no desire to tell her exactly who she was. She hadn’t run away from home without reason and she would not get caught before she made it to France. “Why are you so interested in who I am?”
“I am curious by nature,” she replied and then shrugged. “But that’s not what you want to hear is it? You’re wondering how I might possibly know who you are.” Lady Marin tapped the arm of the chair. “Truthfully—I don’t. It’s more of a supposition at the moment.”
Natalia played with her locket—the one that she always wore with her mother’s miniature nestled inside. “All right. What do you think you know about me?” She would not give more details about herself than she had to. “And why do you believe it?”
“I should be clear,” Callista began. “I do not know your name or where you hail from, but do think I’m acquainted with your mother.”
Her heart skipped a beat at her words. Natalia had never met her mother since she’d died giving birth to her. She craved any information she could get about her. The wanker that sired her couldn’t be bothered to tell her anything about the woman who’d carried Natalia inside of her for months. All she had was the locket with her miniature. That at least told her she resembled her mother. “And how could you possibly know that with a certainty.”
Callista remained quiet for several moments as she tapped her fingers on the chair. “My mother was French, much like yours. When she died my father brought me here to England. That was perhaps eight years ago now.”
“I don’t understand.” What was the countess trying to tell her? “Is that how you know my mother?”
“This isn’t an easy thing for me to talk about.” She sighed. “I adored my mother. She was the most loving, kind person you would ever meet. There was only one person her equal. That was your mother—Ines Martin, her twin sister, and you’re a near replica of them.” She gestured toward Natalia’s locket. “And that was Aunt Ines’s locket. If I had any doubts they disappeared when you caressed it.”
“That would mean…” Natalia swallowed hard unable to handle the information Callista had given her.
“That we’re related?” Callista lifted a brow. “Yes, we would be cousins, if I’m correct. Now are you ready to tell me who you are?”
Natalia never thought she’d find family on her escape from her father’s plans for her. Callista knew her mother’s name. The only thing she knew about her other than what she looked like. “How well did you know my mother?”
“As well as a five year old girl can. She was always sweet to me and brought me presents.” Callista took a deep breath. “I’m sure you have many questions and I’ll answer them if I can. But first why don’t you answer mine.”
“You want me to tell you my name?” Natalia considered her options. She supposed it was the least she could do. Callista had trusted her first. “My name is Lia.” She could only extend her trust so far.
“Was that so difficult?” Callista smiled. “Now that the formalities are out of the way there is something more important I need from you.”
Natalia didn’t want to know what that possibly could be. She didn’t have any inheritance or anything of value Callista could possibly want. “What is that?”
A knock echoed through the room. They both turned to the open doorway and found a man standing there with a trunk. “I’ve brought ye belongings up from the carriage.”
“Where’s my valise?” Weston had found it—hadn’t he?
“I didn’t see one when I grabbed this trunk,” the man said apologetically. “I’ll take another look.”
