The Right One (One and Only Series)

by Samanthya Wyatt

  “Enter.” Morgan’s rough voice attacked her nerves sending a wave of awareness down her spine.

  Seeing him again brought back the cravings of the night before. Her pulses raced. Goodness, he looked simply mouth-watering. Did one look at his rugged form have to make her body betray her this way?

  His eyes narrowed, yet they pierced. The blood in her veins grew hot. She had lowered her defenses toward this man and now he was controlling her body, without even touching her.

  “Good morning, Katherine.”

  Last night he called me Kat. My beloved Kat.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Did you come to say goodbye?”

  The bottom fell out of her stomach. Had he dismissed her already? “Morgan. Is something wrong?”

  Regret flickered in his eyes, immediately replaced with coldness.

  Had she imagined his fleeting unhappiness?

  “Why would you think that? You are continuing on your journey today. It is expected that you would say goodbye.”

  Her heart shattered. Judging from his behavior, he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. Anger concealed her distress. “Of course. I would not be so rude as to slip away without thanking my host.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, again. Surprise? Guilt?

  Reservations assailed her. She took a hesitant step forward. “Maybe . . . that is . . . I assumed last night . . .”

  “And just what did you assume?” One brow raised in question as his voice hardened.

  Courage fled, making her gaze drift from his eyes. Yet she forced out the words. “You came to me.”

  “Yes. I came to your room. You came to my home. Un-chaperoned.”

  Horrified, she recovered her gasp before it left her mouth. What was he saying? Why was he acting this way? This was not the man of last night. He’d been tender, affectionate. Where had her amorous lover gone? The man in his place was cold, abhorring. “You throw my innocence in my face?”

  “You seemed willing enough.”

  Seething, she fought to steady her breathing. The darkness of the study seemed to suit her mood for her fury stemmed from a dismal place in her soul. She shoved her shoulders back and curled her fingers into fists, resisting the urge to tear into him. “I believed you were a man of honor. Tell me, Morgan. Where is that honor now?”

  He laughed.

  Damn his hide.

  “Surely you don’t expect me to marry you, now. I offered once. I will not foolishly do so again.”

  Pain lanced her heart. She clenched her teeth to keep her mouth from hanging open. Tears did not dare defy her will. Never would she have believed him to be so cruel. “You go too far.”

  “I go too far?” He rose from behind his desk. “You came to Whetherford, my dear.”

  The hateful man. She glared, wishing she could singe him with her eyes. “You’ve been turning my head with your words since we met. Now that you have claimed the prize, you no longer want me.”

  His bitter laugh tore her to shreds. “Far from it.”

  Had she been nothing more than a plaything? A tasty morsel to be devoured. A sport to be triumphed. Sick with remorse, she lashed out. “You got what you wanted.”

  His eyes smoldered and his jaw grew tight. His leer maddening. “Yes, I did. And so did you.”

  His words penetrated deeper than any arrow could. “You devil! I hate you.”

  A grin curved one side of his mouth. “No. You don’t. And for a long time, there were those who believed I was the devil.”

  “Tell me again how I was a mistake. How your men kidnapped the wrong woman. I don’t blame her for running away. I know I’m a mistake. And I made a mistake in trusting you.”

  His eyes flared. His jaw so tight, she thought it might crack. “The mistake was in how you were brought here. Not in what happened between us.”

  Pride was a great weapon when it was all one had. Her shoulders back, her head as high as her neck could manage, she drew on every bit of strength she possessed. “Don’t worry. I won’t expose you. After all, you didn’t take advantage. I gave myself freely. If it hadn’t been you, I would have picked someone else. You see, I was ready to lose my virginity. I naïvely held on to it long enough.”

  His smile vanished and he took a threatening step toward her. The devil himself could not have looked as fierce.

  “Don’t you dare come near me,” she said in a hard voice. “Your attentions are no longer welcome.” She whirled around, ran out the door and blindly flew up the stairs.

  Chapter 25

  The moment he took her hand, Kat realized this was not the same footman who had assisted her when she arrived at Whetherford Manor. Holding back burning tears, she ignored the thought and climbed into the waiting carriage. Desolation loomed. Right up until the moment she walked out the door, she had wanted to believe in him. She wanted to believe in herself. How could she have been so wrong?

  Kat leaned her head against the squab and let the tears flow. The one man she’d finally given all she had, and he’d used her. Soaked the life out of her like a useless sponge. Then tossed her away as though she meant nothing.

  He’d given her moments of unbelievable joy. Taken her to un-imagined heights. Rapture she’d never known existed. She wouldn’t let him belittle that. He’d held her as gentle as a mother held a newborn babe. His caring could not be feigned. His affection could not be false. For his own ludicrous reason, he’d behaved horrendously. If her life depended on it, she’d bet his joining with her body had been more than mere lust.

  No matter now.

  He’d sent her away, just like her brother. Unwanted.

  Well, not so much like her brother. At least Stephen loved her. She pulled a piece of linen from her reticule. The carriage jerked as she tried to wipe her nose.

  What the devil? The phaeton picked up speed. Kat leaned over to look out the window. The landscape flew by in a blur. True, she wanted to leave Whetherford long behind, but what was the blasted hurry?

  “Feldman,” she yelled.

  No answer.

  She yelled louder. “Feldman!”

  A lurch nearly unseated her. Were they being chased?

  Kat clambered to the square hole on the other side and found—to her horror—Feldman was not driving the coach. She screamed through the opening. “Who are you? Where are we going? Slow down!”

  To her relief, the phaeton slowed. Then stopped. The door flew open and a large man climbed inside—barely squeezing through the small space. A man she’d never seen before. Unease crept up her spine.

  “Who are you?”

  The man ignored her and hefted his weight on the opposite seat. The carriage took off again. Smells of horses and dirt assaulted her. His clothes seemed clean enough. Still, his beard hid his face and his scowl gave him an unsavory appearance.

  “Do you speak?”

  The cold stare aimed at her made her burst of bravado sizzle.

  “Just do as you’re told.” He crossed his arms over his chest giving her the distinct impression he’d accept no argument from her.

  This man was quite different than the two ruffians who grabbed her in that London side street. She stared at his large arms and the knuckles on his fisted hands. A large brute, who no doubt won his share of fisticuffs. She glanced at the door. She couldn’t flee. There was nowhere to go.

  Dear Lord. Not again.

  The silence stretched into an eternity. “Where are you taking me?”

  More silence.

  So much for conversation—although she didn’t want to talk, she needed answers. The carriage raced. She held on for fear of losing her seat. The broad-shouldered man across from her rocked in an easy gait as if the bumps didn’t bother him at all.

  She lea
ned back and prepared, as much as she could, for what was to come.

  A shout from outside and the carriage jolted to a stop. Kat’s eyes fluttered open. She’d fallen asleep. When the door opened, the burly man gestured with his arm for her to go first. Another man helped her step down—the mystery footman.

  A stone building stood before her. Not exactly nobility. No peasants lived here either. He pushed her forward. Realizing the futility in angering her captor, she moved without resistance. A third man waited at the entrance. Ignoring Kat, he faced the big man behind her.

  “Take her in there.” He pointed to a room off the corridor.

  She glanced up. An unspoken threat evident in his glare.

  Fear choked her. This was real. What did they want?

  Don’t fall apart now.

  She barely had time to scan the corridor before the sham footman took her arm and hauled her through a set of doors. Her gaze landed on a lone chair in the middle of a cold room.

  Pointing to the chair, he said, “You can do this the easy way or . . .” he slowly wrapped a piece of rope around one hand making his meaning clear, “. . . the hard way.”

  She swallowed and tried to control her shaking.

  He’d made his point.

  She settled on the hard wood, clutching her fingers in her lap. He yanked her hands behind her and wrapped the rope around her wrists, then he jerked, confirming she could not get free. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. He stepped over to the stone hearth, lifted the poker and in a short time flames licked the logs. Without another word, he replaced the poker, and left the room.

  Terrified, she remained immobile, unaware of how much time passed before she discovered she’d been holding her breath. On a small table beside her, three flames fluttered unevenly on a candelabra. She blinked, focusing on her surroundings. All shadows.

  She was at their mercy. Would she see Morgan again? Would he know what happened to her? Would he care?

  Her body started to shake in earnest—from cold or fear?

  Tears threatened. Allowing her emotions to cloud her thinking would not help the situation. Stephen would tell her she must remain strong. Would he return only to find her gone? Despair flooded her chest. Would she ever see her brother again?

  Kat flexed her shoulders and flinched as tingling pain shot through her arms.

  “You may as well relax. You’re going to be here for a while.”

  Kat inclined her head. A woman stepped from the shadows. Surprise turned to shock. Kat’s breath came out in a rush. She stared at what seemed to be her own reflection. Her mind whirled.

  The revelation was a jolt to her gut.

  Juliana?

  The famous mystery woman? The one everyone had thought was Kat? It had to be. Because she didn’t know what else to believe.

  Walking over to a desk, Juliana gathered something. She returned with more candles. She took a lighted candle from its holder and lit another one, then one after another and placed them about the room.

  Kat took in the sparsely furnished room that had seemed so empty in the dark. This must be the parlor, although it had seen better days. A sofa of gold which appeared old and faded. No pictures or other items littered the table, only the candelabras. A desk in one corner. A clock on one wall held a motionless pendulum. Another chair completed the list.

  Juliana came back to face her.

  The lines about her eyes were proof she’d seen more years than Kat. No need for the burning logs to heat the room. The fire in her blazing eyes could generate enough heat to warm the entire house.

  “Well, well, well. You look almost . . . like me.” Her hostile eyes took in every detail. They stared at each other for a long disturbing moment before she spoke again. “Who are you?”

  Still unable to believe the woman stood in front of her, Kat knew the time had come to accept reality. With everything in her, she faced her nemesis. “My name is Katherine.”

  “What are you to Whetherford?”

  Renewed pain lanced her chest. “Nothing.”

  Arms crossed, Juliana gave a menacing look as. “Are you his mistress?”

  “Certainly not!” Kat huffed.

  “Then what were you doing at Whetherford Manor?”

  A dizzy feeling went through Kat, making her ears ring. “Delivering a message. I was his guest.”

  “A guest,” she repeated, sauntering around the room as if she were taking a stroll in the park on a Sunday afternoon. Touching the arm of a chair or tracing her finger over the corner of a table, speaking over her shoulder. “Now I understand. The resemblance . . . yes . . .”

  The woman made no sense. “What do you mean?”

  She came to a stop and her calculating eyes flashed. “We had a . . . disagreement,” Juliana said quietly.

  A disagreement? She was a thief.

  “What has that to do with me?” Kat asked.

  A triumphant smile lit her face. “Don’t you see? He’s trying to make me jealous. He couldn’t find me so . . . he tried to replace me. Just temporarily of course. He needed someone to warm his bed.”

  He wouldn’t. Morgan held me and kissed me like he wanted me.

  But then he sent me away.

  Kat wanted to wipe that evil smile off the woman’s face—preferably with a rock.

  “It’s too funny really. He found a woman who looks like me. A woman with red hair, remarkably like my own. We’re about the same size.” Juliana’s gown brushed the table leg as she lifted her head and refocused her direction. “I know you’ve been in his bed. He is a man after all. A man has needs. But, he doesn’t want you.” She pivoted, with a suspicious expression on her shrewd face. “Didn’t you know? We are lovers.”

  Pride to the rescue, again. Add an unruly tongue and she would not give in so easily. “That’s not what I heard.”

  Juliana gave a throaty laugh looking like a cat that just swallowed a tasty bird. “You have no idea what we had or what we shared together.”

  Juliana’s words shook Kat’s confidence. It sounded like Juliana knew Morgan very well. Could this woman be telling the truth?

  “He has a temper.” Juliana slanted her nose down leveling her gaze on Kat. “And a dark side. That’s why I left. When he gets angry . . .” Juliana gave a violent shudder.

  Was it for effect? Or had she truly been reliving a terrifying experience? After all—what did Kat really know about Morgan?

  “Once he calms down, he’s the perfect gentleman. And eager to beg forgiveness.”

  She wanted to cuff that smug expression off the odious woman’s face.

  “He can be exceedingly generous. Most men are when they want to appease their lust. But—you poor girl. You’d certainly never replace me. “Why do you think he tried so hard to find me? I’ll wager every time he took you, he pretended it was me.”

  Kat’s blood pounded. Her head throbbed. A piercing ache went through her entire body. She squeezed her eyes closed. No. Merciful Heavens, no!

  “Whetherford is no different. I simply needed to give him time to cool down. You happened to be available. And now, he no longer needs you.” Juliana seemed entirely too sure of herself.

  He no longer needs you. At least that part was true. Morgan made it very clear he didn’t want her anymore.

  Heaven help me. I must have you again.

  Desperately, Kat wanted to believe Morgan.

  You got what you wanted.

  Yes, I did. And so did you.

  She was a fool. The hateful bastard. Devil take him. If Juliana wanted him, she could have him.

  Giles tied his horse to the hitching post and charged up the steps to the double doors of his colossal mansion. He stepped inside and flung off his coat. Bert was there to greet him.

  “
Glad to have you home, my lord.”

  Giles pulled off his gloves, thinking of the nasty business he’d left behind. A long and grueling journey. Thank God, with a satisfying end. He’d found his quarry. If Morgan hadn’t already heard the news, Giles would fill him in on the details tomorrow. Luck played a big part in his search and seizure. As well as having the good sense to take along plenty of men.

  Rejuvenated blood pumped vigorously in his veins.

  Like the old days.

  He heaved a sigh of satisfaction. He hadn’t exactly planned to get back into the old life of murder and mayhem. But he wouldn’t mind a challenge now and again.

  “Glad to be home, Bert. Does Cook have any food warming on the stove?”

  “Yes, my lord. Cook has prepared a salver every night for the past week in the likelihood of your arrival. I believe this evening’s fare was lamb.”

  “Good. I’m famished.”

  As Giles handed his gloves over, the butler held out a silver tray containing a single white envelope.

  “What’s this?” He recognized the crest from Whetherford Manor.

  “It came two days ago, my lord. It may be urgent.”

  Giles hastily opened the note and read its contents.

  Come immediately.

  It’s a matter of life and death.

  Chapter 26

  Stephen stood with one arm braced against the mantel above the hearth. The cracking of the fire made popping sounds as sparks flew about, scorching the stone. He breathed deep, inhaling the comforting scents of home. Even the leather of his uncle’s favorite chair gave off a consoling scent of familiarity.

  Home, at last, only to find Kat gone. Thank God for his uncle’s connections. Kat’s trail had been found. She took a slight variation from the path to Charity’s. He still couldn’t believe the girl was a Viscountess—the impudent chit. From what he gleamed from Kat’s childhood accomplice, his little sister had planned to rescue him just before she got carried off. Her and her damned, hare-brained ideas. He thought she’d outgrown such tomfoolery.