The Secret Chord: The Virtuosic Spy - Book 2 Read Free Page A

at his clothes. "I couldn't agree more, but it seemed a good idea at the time. I'm sorry to be getting here so late. Should I come back in the morning, maybe?"
    "That’s remarkably polite. If I said 'yes', where would you go?"
    "Hmm. Good question."
    With a laugh, she snapped on the porch light and swung the door open. "I think you'd better come inside. From the accent I assume you are the long-awaited Conor McBride."
    "I am." He blinked at her in the sudden wash of light, looking startled.
    "I'm Kate Fitzpatrick." Opening the door wider she tilted an eyebrow at him. "Welcome to the Rembrandt Inn?"
    "Sorry." He stepped forward to take the hand she offered. "Pleasure to meet you, Kate." He swept his hair—jet-black and dripping wet—away from his forehead, revealing straight dark eyebrows and a pair of deep brown eyes. He examined the area around his feet. "I'm flooding the hallway, I'm afraid."
    "Doesn't matter. The floor is still due to be washed. Procrastination is my specialty. I'd nearly given up on you. Phillip thought you'd get here three days ago. The ice went out at eight this morning but I decided to leave the sign up anyway."
    "The ice . . . went out ?" Conor regarded her blankly.
    "Local expression." She closed the door on a deafening crash of thunder. "Every year we have an 'ice out' contest. A concrete block is tied to a clock on the lake and people take bets on the date and time when it will fall through."
    "Right. I see."
    He didn't of course, but it seemed too complicated to explain why she'd come to connect him with the habits of ice on the lake.
    "You must have flown into Burlington? How did you get here?"
    "Ah, bit of a story, there," Conor said. "Poor planning. I'd no clue Vermont was so short on bus routes. I rode one from Burlington and got as far as Montpelier, then I ended up at the Coffee Corner having a cup of tea and a chat about what to do next. Somebody mentioned your state senator lives nearby, so they rang to find out was he in town, and please could he give this gack of an Irishman a lift."
    "You got a ride from Bob Franklin?" Kate grinned. "I'll bet he talked your ear off."
    "He did have some things on his mind. I've learned a lot my first day. He stopped at the village store down the road and I was a bit stir crazy, so I decided to walk the last few miles."
    "And now, here you are."
    His lips twitched into an ironic smile. "Right. Here I am."
    Kate had grown mesmerized by the Irish brogue. His voice was deep and quietly resonant, but held a note of splintered hoarseness. When he ducked his head away to clear his throat she snapped back to attention.
    "Now I'm talking your ear off and you're standing here soaked to the bone. Let's get you upstairs."

    S HE ' D DECIDED TO put him in one of the spare bedrooms on the third floor. Asking how long he intended to stay seemed inhospitable, but housing a long-term boarder in a regular guest room gave her less flexibility. The large attic room at the far end of her apartment was an emergency spare, with its own small hallway to provide enough privacy for both of them. The downpour continued pounding above their heads as she inserted the key, and once inside the room a muffled crash of water sounded outside the window. Conor threw her a quizzical glance.  
    "Do the lifeboats cost extra?"
    Kate laughed. "A trout brook runs next to the house on this side and empties into the lake. It'll roar on for another week while the snowmelt comes off the hills. I'll give you the tour in the morning."
    She placed the key on the bedside table and turned on the lamp. The bed was an antique four-poster, and on the opposite wall a marble mantle with brass sconces framed a fireplace. In front of it a matching set of armchairs and a low glass table sat on a braided rug, completing the picture of a comfortable attic hideaway.
    Conor dropped his soggy duffel to the floor as though glad to be rid of the weight, but was gentler with the bag on his shoulder, which Kate