He strode out the door and down the hall. Voices drifted through the open parlor doors.
“Katherine, do sit down. You do not want Lord Whetherford to find you pacing his floor like a lioness. What will he think?”
He thinks a lioness is a perfect comparison.
“I don’t care what he thinks.”
Is that so?
“You have forgotten your manners.”
A meek, “Yes, ma’am,” echoed.
He took the remaining steps necessary for his eyes to rest on the very thorn that pricked his mind. Kat sat on the settee beside her aunt.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
Kat’s head jerked his way. From the blush staining her cheeks, she also envisioned their last meeting.
She was even lovelier than he’d remembered.
“Lord Whetherford,” Lady Thornton greeted him.
Morgan dragged his gaze away and gave a slight bow. “Lady Thornton.” He turned his gaze back on Katherine. Her eyes wide, their jade sparkled with intensity. He longed to release the pins holding her crimson curls, allowing long tresses to fall about her shoulders—reminding him of the lioness her aunt referred to. The idea of taming the unruly feline into a purring kitten thrilled him more than he cared to admit. The corner of his mouth twisted at the prospect. “Miss Radbourn.”
Katherine dipped her head. Her tantalizing scent assaulted his nostrils—a steady pull on his senses. Not the overpowering aroma of flowers. Her fragrance was less sweet and more like the fresh air after a rainstorm. Enticing—making his mind crave more of her mystical essence.
“Welcome to my home. I trust your journey was pleasant.” At that moment Mrs. Beasley entered carrying a silver tray with a pot of steaming tea. “Thank you, Mrs. Beasley.”
After she departed, Lady Thornton gave a speaking glance to her niece. Katherine asked, “Shall I pour, Lord Whetherford?”
“Thank you, Miss Radbourn.”
Her fingers curled around the slim silver handle.
He swallowed. His vision blurred while he imagined her fingers curling around his neck, sliding through his hair. Smooth hands gliding over his skin, pulling him closer. He glanced up to find her gaze locked with his.
“My uncle asked me to deliver his letter in person.” She withdrew an envelope and held it out. On the front Morgan’s name was written in bold script.
Taking the paper, he placed it upon the mantle to read later. He moved to sit in a high-back chair across from the ladies and propped one leg on his opposite knee. “I’m glad he did. Whetherford Manor gets too few visitors. I hope to correct that in the near future.”
Lady Thornton sipped her tea. “I understand, Lord Whetherford, you’ve been away for some time.”
“Much too long, I’m afraid. Now that I’m back, I plan to stay.” Morgan glanced to Kat.
She chewed on her lower lip. She fidgeted like a lad bursting with a secret. She wanted to say something. What held her tongue?
“Thank you for your hospitality,” her aunt said.
“Please don’t give it another thought. Sometimes, we men take our political business rather seriously. Look at this as an opportunity for you ladies to enjoy a holiday.” Morgan stood. “I suppose you would like to rest before dinner. Your rooms are ready.”
Frederick suddenly appeared as if he’d been summoned. “Ah, Frederick. Please see the ladies upstairs.” He swept his arm toward the doorway. “This way ladies. Each of you will find a maid waiting. If you need anything, merely let her know what it is you wish.”
While Kat climbed the stairs, his eyes caressed her backside—the soft sway of her hips, a trim ankle as she lifted her skirts with each step. He mentally circled her form with his hands and his breathing constricted. He would never tire of looking at her.
Morgan swiveled around and headed straight for the envelope resting on the mantle. What could be in the letter from Thornton? And why had he sent Katherine? He ripped open the missive and read the words written. He blinked. He read the words again.
Gripping the missive, he turned and strode down the corridor to his study. He walked around the solid oak desk and pulled the right drawer open. After placing the letter carefully inside, he shoved the compartment closed. He treaded to the side table, his eye on the crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. He poured a generous measure into a glass and took a healthy swallow.
So, Thornton needed his niece out of his hair for a few days.
Giles handed the butler his hat and cane. He glanced up the curved mahogany staircase and wondered why he’d been summoned. The signature on the communiqué had been such a surprise, he’d thought of nothing else since receiving Thornton’s directive. He followed the servant through the hall and waited before a set of doors as the man announced Giles’ presence.
“His Grace, the Duke of Nethersall.”
Lord Thornton pulled the pipe from his lips and gave a nod to his butler, then looked toward Giles. “Your Grace.”
“Lord Thornton,” Giles replied.
The steward left, closing the door behind him.
“Please, come in.” Thornton gestured with his pipe. “Would you care for a drink?”
As soon as he could, he wanted to dispense with formalities and find out why the man had sent for him. But, being a duke called for proper protocol. Certain standards had to be respected. “Thank you.”
Thornton strode to the sideboard containing a silver tray with a crystal decanter and two glasses. After pouring a generous portion into both, he handed one to Giles.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here.”
Asked? More like commanded. But then Giles was a curious sort, and one to get answers, so he had eagerly anticipated the meeting. “I pondered whether you invited me as a duke . . . or if something else was underfoot.”
As with most men of Parliament, Thornton’s stone features gave nothing away. He angled his head and penetrating eyes looked over his spectacles. “I see no need to dally. We’ve met before under, should I say, dubious circumstances.”
Giles held his tongue. He’d learned from experience—when you kept your mouth shut, you learned more.
“I wanted to see you for a precise reason.” Thornton spoke as he walked over to stand in front of one of the two leather chairs. He gestured to the other. “Please.”
As Giles lowered his tall frame into the cushioned seat, he contemplated Thornton’s words. “I gather this meeting has some serious significance. You have my attention.”
“We have mutual friends,” Thornton said.
Giles studied the amber liquid in his own glass before he answered. “I thought as much.”
“And have those friends told you anything about me?”
Thankfully, his voice remained even. “I’m sure you know a man in my position never gives information. Of any kind.” Giles’ jaw twitched from tension. He took a deep breath, concentrating on the air going into his lungs, expanding, willing his muscles to relax. “That being said, you were among those who met with Rotherford. So I know you are to be trusted. I understand you were the one responsible for funding a certain rescue. I have speculated, upon occasion, if other missions had a connection to you.”
Thornton’s gaze bore right through him. At the same time the man appeared completely relaxed.
Giles continued. “I would never ask or seek answers where it is not necessary.”
With his elbow resting on the arm of his chair, Thornton held his pipe to the side. “And here I expected you would glean every statistic down to the last detail.”
“I know you are a private man, as am I. Discretion and secrecy made many operations successful. I would not interfere in your solitude.”
Thornton nodded as though he accepted the words as honest. “I
need a man of your particular skills. There are only two men I would consider for this task, and one is you.”
Giles knew without asking, the second man was Morgan. Thornton’s eyes seemed to acknowledge that thought. What the hell could Thornton need from the man Giles used to be? “I’m no longer at a point in my life where I live for danger.”
“Yet you risked all to find your friend,” Thornton said.
Damn. How’d he know about that?
Giles took a hefty drink. Bloody hell. Did he need to ask? Thornton was like a ghost—haunting, privy to all worldly beings. He could probably read a man’s mind. Giles shook off the thought. “Proceed, Lord Thornton.”
Thornton rose and stepped over to place his pipe in a marble bowl. Giles felt like a lad in the presence of one who commanded a room just by being in it. Thornton had most likely headed many of their assignments. Giles and Morgan were in the field, so to speak, while Thornton—and other men of parliament—secretly gathered information and set the wheels into motion. How did someone send a man on a dangerous undertaking that held no guarantee of success? No assurance the candidate would return. How did a man sleep at night when he sent another on a mission that could end his last breathing act?
Giles’ empathy grew to unknown bounds. He sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted to be in Thornton’s shoes.
“Very well.” Thornton returned to his chair. “Now, the reason I called for you.” He leaned back and exhaled a deep breath. “An unfortunate matter. It’s my niece, Katherine.”
Giles paused with the brandy inches from his lips. With years of practice, he managed to mask his feelings. What the bloody hell? Was he about to be sent after Morgan?
Chapter 15
Morgan stared out the glass-paned window. He had no idea how long he stood there when he heard a rustling of skirts. He turned, and his heart lurched at the vision before him. The most beautiful sunset could not compare to the effervescent colors in her hair, or the persimmon gown covering the generous curves of her body. Before his lower region could be allowed to bloom, he squelched his desire, and then frowned in confusion. He’d not expected to see her again so soon.
“If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you,” Katherine said.
Her wringing hands displayed her nervousness. He pushed the annoying lock of hair from his forehead and forced his muscles to relax. “Of course.”
When she took a few steps forward and stopped, Morgan gestured to the chair across from him. “Please.”
“Do you mind if I close the door? My aunt is asleep upstairs. I do not want her to overhear if she awakes.”
“Miss Radbourn. Do you plan to put me in a compromising position?” His lip curved as he thought of how he’d barely escaped by the skin of his teeth the last time.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t have to let you off the hook.” Kat glared at him.
“Off the . . .” Morgan shook his head at the exasperating female, and moved to close the door. Once again he held out his arm and motioned to the twin leather chairs. Katherine perched on the edge of one cushion, her body erect. Giving her time to gather her words, he took the chair in front of his desk and leaned back in comfort.
“I am short on time so I will come right to the point.”
What was the minx up to now? He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Very well.”
“How much power do you have?”
Morgan’s fingers tightened on the brandy snifter in his hand. What the bloody hell? With her naiveté, her question made one think the opposite, for it gave him free reign on his imaginings. His heart gave several beats while she squirmed on her seat. When she looked ready to burst, he answered. “Enough.”
She plunged on with her next words. “I want you to help me find my brother.”
Brother? He’d almost forgotten. He slackened his grip on the snifter he’d been clutching. Anything he might have expected, he certainly hadn’t expected that to pop out of her mouth.
“You want my help. To find your brother.” He sounded like a bloody parrot.
“Yes.” Her shoulders slumped as she let out the breath she’d been holding.
Morgan watched her chest rise and fall, her ample bosom caused his rod to constrict. Damn, she was lovely. He imagined his hands on her breasts. How he would like to tug the lace covering her generous swells and suckle her nipples like a newborn babe. He wondered what color her nipples would be—dark rose? Or a lighter shade of pink? Suddenly his tongue felt too large for his mouth. And his breeches too damned tight. Katherine was the kind of woman one marries, not someone to dally with. He shifted, then crossed his legs to hide her effect on his body and forced his mind to the topic at hand.
Her brother.
“Is this why you asked how much power I have?”
“Yes.”
He sorted through what she’d just revealed—pleased she’d come to him and relieved she no longer snubbed him. The girl was a mystery. In her uncle’s letter, Thornton had been right when he mentioned he feared his niece was up to something. Morgan would be happy to keep an eye on her. After all, she’d come to him. And he had her uncle’s sanction.
Morgan rose slowly, and proceeded to the assortment of bottles on the oak table. He poured a small amount of burgundy into a crystal flute, and then added a splash of brandy to his own glass. Handing the claret to Katherine, he took his seat. “Now. Tell me about your brother.”
She took a hesitant sip of the offered wine, then placed the flute on the round table beside her chair. “I’m very worried about him. He’s been gone a long time.”
Pain etched her face. Clearly she had a story to convey. He would let her tell him in her own way and in her own time. Sometimes a body had to cleanse—flush out their emotions—their pain—their grief. He listened without interruption.
“Stephen is my senior by ten years. As a small child, I followed him around everywhere.” She tipped her head and held his gaze. “I idolized my brother.”
Morgan could see the binding love—the bond between a sister and her brother. Her pain filled eyes shot away.
“I remember as a child, he was a good and caring brother. He never shunned me or ignored me. How in the world he put up with me tagging along behind him everywhere he went, I don’t know. His patience had no limit. Not with me, anyway. Stephen was always there for me. He taught me so many things.”
Her tortured gaze returned to him.
“Stephen taught me to ride at an early age. He showed me how to care for a horse as well as how to ride one. By the time I was twelve, I was a master in the saddle. If I fell, he was there to pick me up. If I cried, he was there to kiss my hurt and wipe away my tears.”
The kissing had Morgan thinking he’d like to do some kissing of his own. He wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of unconditional love. To have a woman love him unreservedly. He didn’t speak, only motioned for her to carry on.
“It broke my little girl’s heart when he went away to sea. I couldn’t understand why he left me behind. Why he wouldn’t take me with him.”
Morgan empathized with the lost little girl who so badly wanted her brother. Katherine took a deep breath and her eyes lit up along with the smile on her face.
His gut took a dive.
“Stephen always came home with presents and hugs. Even when I’d grown, he’d pick me up and twirl me around till I was breathless.”
Seeing the glowing excitement on her face made Morgan wish he could have put it there. He wanted to give her that stimulating glow. He wanted her to feel that thrill of exhilaration for him.
She gazed toward the window. “When my parents died, Stephen insisted I live with my aunt and uncle. I understand his reasoning now, but at the time I was devastated. I thought he was deserting me.” Her voice turned raspy as she continu
ed. “You see, Stephen is captain of his own ship. He can come and go as he pleases. At least twice each year he visits me, sometimes more.” She faced him. Her eyes implored as she leaned forward to demand his absolute attention. “I have not seen my brother in nearly two years. That’s how I know something has happened to him. Stephen would never stay away from me this long.”
So, the brother is as devoted to her as she is to him.
Clearly they had a special relationship. What would it be like to have a woman speak of him with such a loving glow in her eyes? Blood and the devil. He would never know. How could he be jealous of her brother, for God’s sake?
Katherine shifted in her chair. “You’ve got to believe me. I know something bad has happened.”
“I believe you.” The relief on her face eased the tightness in his chest.
“I had planned to look for him on my own.”
That got his attention.
“If your men had not grabbed me, I would be on my way to find him.”
God’s teeth! She had just reminded him again that all of this was his fault. Then the realization of exactly what she had said penetrated his crazed brain. “What do you mean, on your way? You were planning to hire someone, of course. Not alone.”
Her teeth chewed on her luscious lip again. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far. I was looking for Captain Danvers.”
“Surely you knew better than to go to the docks on your own? This sounds like a matter for your uncle to handle. Not for a young woman. I hate to be reminded of my own ineptness, but what do you think would have happened had I not found you?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer that.”
Morgan rose from his chair and marched to the window. Thrusting his fingers through his hair, he warred with his conscience. Frustrated that he could not go back and undo the misguided actions of his men that day—not sure he wanted to change the outcome even if he could. Maddened at the idea of her even considering going alone. Alarmed of the possibility she could have ended in a worse situation. He turned and took one agonizing step in her direction.
The Right One (One and Only Series) Page 12