Page 109 of The Viscount's Seduction
She pulled herself together. “And ’tis also a marvel that you’ve finished it in less than seven days. Even the Lord’s creation could not proceed so quickly.”
He smiled at that. “I need to ask about that, my lady. To complete the last part, my man here will need to work quite late tonight, perhaps through the night, as you will want him done before the flowers and the candles are arranged.”
“Only one man? Cannot you send the others to help?”
“’Tis a special design he’s adding to the corners, and he’s faster than the others.”
She craned her neck but could not see the drawing. Nor did the man look up. From here he seemed a man of middle age, fair-haired and built more for strength than for art, though his hand worked away. His attire was clean, his boot soles sturdy with no signs of holes. He seemed an entirely respectable working man.
Someone on Shaldon’s staff could keep an eye on him. “Very well. I’ll send along the butler to make the arrangements.”
The man looked up then, and her breath quickened.
“But first, I’ll just have a wee look at what he’s doing.”
She raised her hem and tiptoed along the wall, careful to step over the chalked lines. Her pulse built and clanged, stirring up memories from the deepest parts of her confused mind. The artist pushed up to his feet, and she could see, he was quite tall, his handsome face scarred on one side, from cheek to jaw. Blue eyes studied her with too much interest.
Had Jamie’s eyes been that blue? Where, oh, where were her fey senses now?
She stopped outside his reach and angled her head to view the work.
’Tis Queen Brighid’s quaternary Celtic knot, Sirena. Can you say it for me?
Her eyes started to fill. The outline on the floor was clear, and the man so like, but she couldn’t be certain. She’d been but a child when Jamie left.
She took a breath and glanced back at the overseer who’d followed her. “Please go and find Lloyd. Tell him your request and that we’ve talked.”
The old man nodded and left.
“And a good day to you, my lady.”
Her nerves jangled more.
“And what would be your name?” she asked. “Donegal?”
His smile seemed kind, and she saw that a tooth was chipped. Kind or not, he’d had a violent life.
“It’s as good an Irish name as anything to call me, Lady Sirena.”
She swallowed the tears that threatened to form.He knew her name. Was this Donegal, or was it...him?
The quaternary cross—it must be him, and not some wishful thinking.
Except…Perry had spotted Gram’s good luck charm in Sirena’s room and asked to borrow it. She must have drawn the design for the artist.
Or perhaps, this was the man Donegal, and he’d seen Gram’s charm round Jamie’s neck before he’d murdered him.
Or tried to. She must keep faith that Jamie lived. And she must test this one.
“Why didn’t you come forth to talk to me?” she asked.
“I could not. An Irishman can’t be too careful, innocent though he be. I think you know that.”
The words sent a chill through her. Did she know that?
And if he wasn’t innocent, a traitor had found his way into Shaldon’s abode.
He looked over her shoulder and then she heard the soft footfalls.
