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most glorious of detail all the hellish hours he had passed since her abrupt departure.
She pointedly ignored the reality of her situation. For now, Kendrick was as real as any other man and
the caress of his voice was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt. It was as if he were kissing her
mouth with gentle lips, touching her with strong, callused fingers, holding her close to a body as real and
tangible as her own.
She'd face the truth later.
And hope to survive.
Chapter Sixteen
« ^ »
Genevieve peered into the glass case and frowned at the choices there. "Don't you have anything less
conservative?" she asked the saleswoman. "I'd even settle for plaid at this point."
The saleswoman smiled. "Trying to get your father into the swing of things?"
"My butler."
"Ah, then perhaps something truly daring." She reached in and pulled out a black watch plaid bow tie.
"Very adventurous."
Genevieve suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll take that one too, but haven't you got anything
livelier? Like tiger stripes or polka dots? He needs a walk on the wild side."
A half hour later, Genevieve left the department store. In her shopping bag were half a dozen bow ties of
various levels of wildness, from black watch plaid to a cute little paisley she was sure Worthington would
hate on first sight. She could hardly wait to give it to him.
"Lady Seakirk?"
She almost didn't look up, then she realized that, for better or worse, Lady Seakirk was who she'd
become. Bryan McShane was standing in front of her, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. What she wanted
to do was give him a good old-fashioned tongue-lashing, but she stopped herself. What good would it
do? Maybe it would be more fun to play dumb and let him hang himself. She had the feeling he'd do it
soon enough.
"Why, Mr. McShane," she said, smiling brightly. "What a pleasure to see you again. How are you
doing?"
"Very well, thank you," he said faintly. "Ah, perhaps you would allow me to buy you lunch? I'm interested
in hearing how you're adjusting to English country life."
I'll bet you are, Genevieve thought with a smirk. Shame on him for sending a poor, innocent girl into a
lion's den. Genevieve smiled as she listened with only half an ear to Mr. McShane's ramblings.
Fortunately the lion in her den just happened to be the most wonderful man ever created. Genevieve was
tempted to give Bryan a kiss right there in the street.
"Here we are," he said, indicating an exclusive-looking restaurant. "My treat."
I should hope so. He'd made enough money off Kendrick to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner in this place
for the rest of his life. Maybe it was time Kendrick looked for a cheaper attorney, now that he wasn't
head-hunting any more Buchanans.
Genevieve settled into her chair and smiled at the lawyer.
"How is business?" she asked.
Bryan looked as though he'd just gone bankrupt, "Ah, I need to slip away and make a phone call. If
you'll excuse me?"
He rose, beating another of his hasty retreats. Typical, Genevieve noted, remembering how quickly he'd
bolted after dropping her off at Seakirk.
Bryan returned with just as much haste, but looked decidedly better. He took his seat and gave her a
smile.
"Seakirk seems to agree with you," he said, sipping at his water and watching her closely.
"I can hardly believe I almost passed it up. I'll be eternally grateful to you for tracking me down."
Bryan squirmed a bit. "It was nothing, really. I'm simply relieved to know that the situation has worked
out so well. I had heard rumors that the keep had a quirk or two." He looked at her from under his
eyelashes. "Have you noticed anything odd?"
"What castle doesn't have a few quirks?" she asked, trying not to laugh. "There's nothing at Seakirk that I
can't handle. And I'm already planning a bit of restoration work on the inside. The next time you're in the
area, feel free to drop by. I'll give you the grand tour."
"That would be very kind."
And that was that. They ate their lunch making polite small talk. Genevieve knew no more about Bryan
when she left the restaurant than she had when she entered. It was just as well. She'd actually thought him
to be not too bad-looking when she first met him. Wimpy, but not too bad. Now he struck her as being a
very nervous, very edgy little man with small dreams and an even smaller imagination.
Then again, compared to Kendrick, who wouldn't be?
Two hours (and a few stores) later, she made her way to her hotel. What she wanted was a hot shower,
a hot cup of tea and a phone call from Kendrick, not necessarily in that order. Then she'd go to bed early
so she could start back first thing in the morning. Kendrick's Christmas present was set to arrive by the
end of the week and she wanted to be home before he saw it. She knew if she weren't there when it
arrived, she would find Kendrick trying to open the thing himself. He would be transparent for a month as
penalty. The computer had been horribly expensive, but she hadn't blinked when she'd plunked down the
money for it. It was state-of-the-art technology, allowing the user to speak his commands instead of
typing them in. Money had spoken loudly and she'd even been introduced to the programmer and been
offered a few test games for her trouble.
She had sent all of her other purchases home too, finding that taking advantage of the services offered the
idle rich was a sweet thing indeed. All she had to do was pack the few clothes she had kept out and go.
She walked into her room and closed the door behind her. Immediately the hair on the back of her neck
stood up. There was someone in her room and she had the feeling it wasn't the maid. Forcing herself to
keep moving, she laid her purchases on the bed and then flicked on the light.
The room was a shambles. The bedclothes were shredded, pillow feathers scattered everywhere,
furniture overturned. The mirror looked as if someone had put a sledgehammer through it.
Then she saw him. He stepped from the shadows and walked across the room, crunching the rubble
underfoot. He held a rope in his hands. She had the feeling she'd be dangling from the end of it very soon.
Her "Stop or I'll scream" came out as nothing but a squeak. An obviously very ineffectual squeak, as it
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