me." In truth, she hadn't cared about his nationality. Her only care had been his fine young body. "So where are you from?"
"Cenorina."
She stared at him. Cenorina. An archipelago of islands east of England and south of the Channel Islands. An independent principality ruled by the same family for four hundred years. The place where she must go to complete her mission.
She actually felt the blood drain from her face. Her lips moved. "Cenorina." But she made no sound. Her lungs weren't working. She couldn't get air.
He observed every fluctuation of color and every change in respiration.
She hated that. She wanted him to know nothing about her. Nothing.
His eyes were as cool and gray as the winter sea. "Perhaps you ought to sit down."
"No." Sit, recline, relax in any way in his presence? No .
"Aye, I'm from Cenorina." He seemed proud of his heritage, and bitter, too. "That puts a different complexion on it, doesn't it, my lamb?"
The air came rushing back into her lungs. "If you had a lamb, you would roast it and serve it in a stew."
"You judge me harshly."
"I judge you fairly." She judged him as he deserved to be judged.
"I know every inch of Cenorina terrain. It is a place of mountains and hot springs, of wild shorelines and herds of deer. I know the palaces and the villages. I'm Throckmorton's main contact for this mission." He pulled the window shut and loosely latched it. "So it would be best if you went back to London and told Throckmorton to send me the proper staff."
How dare Taran presume to know what she was capable of? "I am the only one who can complete this task. I have entry into the governor of Cenorina's household. Sir Maddox Davies sent to the Distinguished Academy of Governesses for … staff."
"Sir Maddox Davies, the governor of Cenorina, who has no wife or children, sent for a governess?" Taran voice rose incredulously.
"For a housekeeper. The academy provides all kinds of services, and has a reputation for providing excellent domestics. I am the new housekeeper."
"You?" He burst into low, scornful laughter. "A housekeeper? You don't know the first thing about --"
Two long steps brought her to stand in front of him. Poking her finger into his shirtfront, she said, "Yes … I … do. When my mother remarried, the burden of caring for Castle MacLean fell on me. Just because you weren't there to witness it, Taran, doesn't mean I didn't succeed."
He stopped laughing, but he surveyed her with an intimate smile that sent shivers down her spine. "That's my Caitlin. You always recover quickly."
"Cate."
"What?"
"I am Cate now. Not Caitlin. Not the little fool you knew before. I am Cate."
"Cate," he repeated. "I like that. It fits you. And … Kiernan would kill me if I allowed you to go on this mad adventure."
All unknowing, Taran had jabbed at a tender spot. Abruptly, her fingers shook, and she tucked them behind her back. "Kiernan spent years wanting to kill you. Why should anything be different now?"
"Why, indeed?" Taran caught her shoulders in his grasp. He gazed into her eyes as if he would hold her through the power of his words. "Nine years. Nine years is a long time. I thought I'd forgotten you, Cate. when I saw you walk across the tavern tonight, I knew I was only fooling myself. I could never forget you."
CHAPTER THREE
Cate stood unbending, holding every muscle rigid. "Am I supposed to be impressed that you remember me at last?"
"You were always one who valued action above all." Taran lowered his lips toward hers. "Darlin', remember this?"
She slammed her forehead toward his mouth.
He jerked his head back barely in time. "A tussle, lass? Is that what you like now?"
"I don't like anything now." With a swift upward swing of her fists, she broke his grip on her arms and strode across the bedchamber. "Since you left me tied to that bed, I've spent half of my time evading jackasses like you who think I need a man. I don't need any man. Certainly not one who
"Cenorina."
She stared at him. Cenorina. An archipelago of islands east of England and south of the Channel Islands. An independent principality ruled by the same family for four hundred years. The place where she must go to complete her mission.
She actually felt the blood drain from her face. Her lips moved. "Cenorina." But she made no sound. Her lungs weren't working. She couldn't get air.
He observed every fluctuation of color and every change in respiration.
She hated that. She wanted him to know nothing about her. Nothing.
His eyes were as cool and gray as the winter sea. "Perhaps you ought to sit down."
"No." Sit, recline, relax in any way in his presence? No .
"Aye, I'm from Cenorina." He seemed proud of his heritage, and bitter, too. "That puts a different complexion on it, doesn't it, my lamb?"
The air came rushing back into her lungs. "If you had a lamb, you would roast it and serve it in a stew."
"You judge me harshly."
"I judge you fairly." She judged him as he deserved to be judged.
"I know every inch of Cenorina terrain. It is a place of mountains and hot springs, of wild shorelines and herds of deer. I know the palaces and the villages. I'm Throckmorton's main contact for this mission." He pulled the window shut and loosely latched it. "So it would be best if you went back to London and told Throckmorton to send me the proper staff."
How dare Taran presume to know what she was capable of? "I am the only one who can complete this task. I have entry into the governor of Cenorina's household. Sir Maddox Davies sent to the Distinguished Academy of Governesses for … staff."
"Sir Maddox Davies, the governor of Cenorina, who has no wife or children, sent for a governess?" Taran voice rose incredulously.
"For a housekeeper. The academy provides all kinds of services, and has a reputation for providing excellent domestics. I am the new housekeeper."
"You?" He burst into low, scornful laughter. "A housekeeper? You don't know the first thing about --"
Two long steps brought her to stand in front of him. Poking her finger into his shirtfront, she said, "Yes … I … do. When my mother remarried, the burden of caring for Castle MacLean fell on me. Just because you weren't there to witness it, Taran, doesn't mean I didn't succeed."
He stopped laughing, but he surveyed her with an intimate smile that sent shivers down her spine. "That's my Caitlin. You always recover quickly."
"Cate."
"What?"
"I am Cate now. Not Caitlin. Not the little fool you knew before. I am Cate."
"Cate," he repeated. "I like that. It fits you. And … Kiernan would kill me if I allowed you to go on this mad adventure."
All unknowing, Taran had jabbed at a tender spot. Abruptly, her fingers shook, and she tucked them behind her back. "Kiernan spent years wanting to kill you. Why should anything be different now?"
"Why, indeed?" Taran caught her shoulders in his grasp. He gazed into her eyes as if he would hold her through the power of his words. "Nine years. Nine years is a long time. I thought I'd forgotten you, Cate. when I saw you walk across the tavern tonight, I knew I was only fooling myself. I could never forget you."
CHAPTER THREE
Cate stood unbending, holding every muscle rigid. "Am I supposed to be impressed that you remember me at last?"
"You were always one who valued action above all." Taran lowered his lips toward hers. "Darlin', remember this?"
She slammed her forehead toward his mouth.
He jerked his head back barely in time. "A tussle, lass? Is that what you like now?"
"I don't like anything now." With a swift upward swing of her fists, she broke his grip on her arms and strode across the bedchamber. "Since you left me tied to that bed, I've spent half of my time evading jackasses like you who think I need a man. I don't need any man. Certainly not one who
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