Twelfth Moon (37 page)

A rush of guilt assailed her for the lie she’d perpetrated. She had enough to pay for the retainer, but as for the rest of it – well, she just hoped that medallion was found. She would have the money as soon as she found the relic and a buyer. Mr. Bellamy just didn’t need to know that at the moment.

She was desperate to find her uncle’s killer. Uncle Tobias was a gentle scholar who wouldn’t have harmed a soul and now it was her duty to find whoever had committed the crime, and bring him to justice.

She just didn’t want to find out what Mr. Bellamy would do if she couldn’t pay him in the end. She shivered at the thought as she bustled through the labyrinth of hallways and out onto the sidewalk, the gray, two-dimensional sky reflecting her abrupt change in mood.

“
JUST REMEMBER THAT you work for me.”
Why, that little termagant! And yet what a sweet morsel she’d turned out to be. When she’d first entered his office, Roger had barely glanced at her. But her straight posture and direct eye contact had caused him to take a second look. Her frumpy gown and wrapped head hadn’t fooled him one bit. He knew there was a beautiful, passionate woman lying dormant beneath that dowdy affectation.

And if she had the sort of money it took to pay him, why did she dress so plainly?
If
she had the money. She had better, or he would take it out of her luscious hide, which actually sounded like a much better way of extracting payment. He would discover the truth about Miss Templeton in due course.

It sounded like her uncle had died of natural causes. Roger wondered if she were possibly unbalanced. She hadn’t looked unbalanced. Her gaze had been clear and steady, possessing a sharp intelligence rarely found in any female he’d ever known.

He thought of the way she’d reached over his desk to shake hands like a gentleman would and, decided the gesture was charming, rather than vulgar, coming from a woman. He admired her tenacity, as well as the way her mouth formed that perfect rosebud when it wasn’t pressed in a grim line. She was such a small thing, yet possessed an intelligent confidence that was inexplicably alluring.

But Roger had detected an almost imperceptible flicker of hesitation in her eyes when he’d named his price. Most people would never have noticed it. His highly attuned senses picked it up as if her thoughts had formed written words on a sheet of vellum.

How did a woman who wore such unfashionable attire come up with the amount of money he asked? The cost of his services was high for a reason. He was the best. His ability to read people had always come naturally and, in more than one instance, had even saved his life.

Did she have the blunt? Her direct stare indicated her earnestness, but what he’d seen in her eyes told him that she was holding something back.

She’d been dressed in a plain brown wool gown with an endless number of buttons all the way up to her chin. The hideous bonnet she wore on her head covered every strand of hair like a nun’s habit. It had forced him to acknowledge her deep brown eyes and the exquisite fullness of her lips, which revealed a row of straight, white teeth whenever she’d spoken.

His loins had tightened in an age-old response, which surprised him. She’d been costumed like an aging spinster twice her age, yet there was something about her that had intrigued him. He’d sensed that beneath the slightly loose material was a body lush and ripe, with womanly curves in all the right places. And when she’d described the mark on her uncle’s neck by pointing to her own, he’d wanted to put his mouth there and taste her.

But what he’d really wanted to do was kiss those soft lips, and strip that ugly gown off to see if what lay beneath it was what his imagination had conjured. He was certain her skin would be smooth as satin, and would taste like peaches and cream. He would lick every inch of her, taking extra care with her deliciously rounded breasts. Her hair color was a mystery, though, covered as it was. It was difficult to guess by the brown shade of her brows and sable lashes that seemed too long and thick to be real.

The woman was an oddity, and he had no explanation for his reaction to her.

He had to get a grip on this attraction to her. Better to nip it in the bud now – stay cool and businesslike. No sense in encouraging any fanciful notion she might have of knights in shining armor.

Roger wondered why, after all these years, he could be so intrigued by such a nondescript woman. What was it about this dowdy woman that elicited such an uncharacteristic response from him? It had been years since he’d allowed a woman to affect him this way.

Not since…
her
.

But Miss Templeton wasn’t so nondescript, not upon closer observation, that is. She was like a delicious present, wrapped in a plain brown wrapper. There was an aura of secrecy about her that was artless in its surety. It was there, just under the surface.

Some women purposely tried to present an air of mystery in order to attract a man, but Roger knew instinctively that Miss Templeton’s mystery was not an attempt at being
mysterious
. She truly had something she wished to hide, something which interlinked the past with the present.

He knew this because he had always been able to read people, not just by their facial expressions and body movements, something learned during his years as a spy, but because he’d always been able to
sense
things. He couldn’t exactly read someone’s thoughts as much as he received images and impressions of those thoughts, and he usually knew when someone was lying, or hiding something.

* * * * *

About the Author

Lori lives in Michigan with her husband, their eleven-year-old son, and little black dog. She’s a freelance writer and reporter for a local weekly newspaper, The Township Times, covering human interest stories. She’s been working in the computer industry for over 19 years, and owns a web design business. Over the years, she’s had extensive writing experience with documentation, both business-related and technical, as well as in the creative area. As a writer of fiction, she utilizes her many life experiences, her travels (adventures), and encounters with the people she's met along the way.

www.lorivillarreal.com