Heart's Debt (Lost Lords Book 5) Read Free Page B

stepped into the sunlight, she was less frightened than she’d initially been. While he looked sinister in his black outfit, she sensed no menace.
    He was very handsome, his eyes dark, his hair dark too, and worn much too long, brushing his shoulders in a casual way, as if he was unconcerned about his appearance. He was about her same age of twenty-five, but he seemed much older, as if life had dealt him some hard blows.
    His chest was broad, his waist narrow, and he was every bit of six feet in height. She was only five-foot-five in her stockings so he towered over her, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She suspected he could be dangerous if riled. He exuded a vigilance that hinted at terrible secrets and mysterious conduct, but she didn’t plan to enrage him so she deemed herself safe.
    “I startled you,” he said as he reached her.
    “Yes. I didn’t realize anyone was down here.”
    “I should have announced myself.”
    “It’s all right. No harm done.”
    “My apologies.”
    “Apology accepted.”
    She smiled and took the bonnet from him. She would have put it on, but it was very damp, the ribbons especially. She shook it, splashing her skirt and his trousers with water droplets.
    “Ah!” she moaned. “I’m sorry. I’m having the worst afternoon.”
    “You’re wet.”
    “So are you now.”
    “I expect I’ll dry off without too much trouble. How about you?”
    “I expect I’ll dry too, but not before I arrive home and have to explain myself.”
    “How will you?”
    “I have no idea. I suppose I’ll simply say that I was seized by a wicked whim, and I jumped into the stream while I was fully clothed.”
    He snorted at that. “Do these whims plague you often?”
    “More than I’d like or would ever admit.” To her surprise, she grumbled, “I’m always accused of reckless behavior so on occasion I ought to behave recklessly. At least I’d enjoy myself more.”
    “I wasn’t aware that young ladies were allowed to be reckless.”
    “They’re not.” She extended her hand. “I’m Miss Fogarty. Miss Georgina Fogarty.”
    “Hello, Miss Fogarty.”
    He clasped her hand and bowed over it, exhibiting such perfect manners that she was convinced he wasn’t an outlaw.
    “And you are…?” she pressed when he didn’t respond in kind.
    “No one of any importance.”
    Why would he decline to give his name? His reply vexed her and had her reevaluating her opinion that he wasn’t a miscreant.
    “I’m alone with you, sir. Should I be worried?”
    “Probably.”
    “Probably! Why? Have you foul-play in mind?”
    “Not yet.”
    She studied his eyes, then scoffed. “You’re not a criminal. Don’t try to scare me.”
    “I wasn’t trying.”
    “And you haven’t.”
    “Good.”
    “Why are you lurking under the bridge? Are you hiding?”
    “Yes, I’m always hiding.”
    “Spoken like a true bandit. Are you one?”
    “Not today.”
    “What does that mean? It’s Thursday. Were you one on Wednesday? Might you be one again on Friday?”
    “I might—if the mood strikes me.”
    “What sort of brigand are you? Are you the type to rob travelers of their jewelry?”
    “I don’t need anyone’s jewels.”
    “Then are you the type to creep in at night and make off with the silverware? Should we start locking our windows and doors?”
    “I don’t care about your paltry silverware either.”
    “I’m glad to hear it.”
    She studied him again, anxious to figure out if he was jesting or if he actually had felonious tendencies. He certainly seemed dodgy and capable of inflicting damage on others, but she didn’t believe a criminal would confess to being a criminal.
    She told herself he was jesting.
    “I’ve resided in the area most of my life,” she said.
    “How awful for you,” he sarcastically retorted. “How have you survived it?”
    “I don’t recognize you as a neighbor. Are you passing through or are you visiting?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Maybe what? Are you passing through? Are you