A Stranger's Kiss by Rosemary Smith Page B

in the far corner by the window while Michael watched me, his eyes steady and intent as he sipped at his drink. I smiled at him and he slowly raised his glass in salutation and my heart started racing.
    Rosalind, looking lovely in a beige-coloured gown decorated with small pink rosebuds, steered me towards the middle-aged couple she had been in conversation with. I turned sideways to look again at Michael who was still watching me just as Tobias thrust a glass of amber liquid in my hand. I immediately thought of potions and poisons, wondering ludicrously if Tobias was the poisoner, when my wicked idea was interrupted by Rosalind’s voice.
    ‘Sara, Sara,’ she repeated, ‘may I introduce you to Nicholas and Hester Northcliffe.’
    ‘Why, how do you do I’m sorry, but I was distracted. Please forgive me for being rude,’ I pleaded.
    ‘Not at all, young woman,’ Nicholas’ voice boomed out. He was a rotund man with a red face, while his wife was as thin as a scarecrow with bright red hair and a white unsmiling face.
    ‘I can see the object of your distraction,’ he said coarsely, nodding in Michael’s direction and winking at me.
    I disliked the man immediately and was grateful to Tobias who steered me away to the drawing room, much to his brother’s obvious alarm.
    ‘You look very alluring this evening, Miss Osborne,’ Tobias observed, looking me up and down.
    ‘I second that,’ spoke a voice from the corner of the room. It was the master, Abraham, who we had not noticed. He walked towards us, the snuff box in his hand. I thought how distinguished he looked, dressed in a black jacket, his silver-grey hair shining in the evening light.
    ‘Tell me, Miss Osborne,’ the master continued, ‘whatever possessed you to travel from Bath to Cornwall on your birthday of all days?’ The question was a fair one, but unexpected and brought to mind Amelia.
    ‘I wished to travel to see my friend at the earliest possible moment,’ I answered him frankly.
    ‘Your loyalty to your friend does you justice, young woman,’ said Abraham, the first sign of friendliness towards me in his manner. ‘And do you believe Amelia is still here at Ravensmount?’
    ‘Yes I do,’ I said honestly without hesitation.
    ‘And why do you think this?’ he queried not unkindly.
    ‘I think I have seen my friend, Sir,’ I answered my voice strong. ‘Not only in these grounds here, but in the window of the tower.’
    ‘Interesting, Miss Osborne. Now let us join our guests in the hall.’ At his words I could hardly believe Mr Tremaine had dismissed the subject, but at the same time he had not argued with me.
    For the first time I saw the large dining room at Ravensmount, whose steps led from the hall into the spacious room which boasted a huge stone fireplace, filled with brightly coloured daisies.
    We seated ourselves around the table, the master at the head, the awful Nicholas Northcliffe opposite me who every now and then tried to touch my foot with his, so that I sat throughout the meal with my feet tucked under the chair. Michael sitting further up the table watched me while I ate, causing me to wonder what exactly his thoughts were.
    During the meal, Abraham Tremaine stood up raising his glass. ‘To our guest, the beautiful Miss Sara Osborne, her birthday and many more to come.’ He toasted me and I thought what a good start to the evening, but could things get better or worse? I was soon to find out.
    As we stepped back into the hall afterwards I could see that chairs and small tables had been placed around, and after a nod from Rosalind to the minstrels’ gallery above, beautiful music floated down to us. To my dismay it was the master who approached me first.
    ‘Shall we dance, Miss Osborne?’ he asked, bowing over my hand which he had taken in his. His hand was strong and dependable and I idly wondered what had changed his manner towards me.
    As we danced to the strains for a Viennese waltz and as Abraham whirled me expertly