“Never heard of the man.”
“Liar.”
I sucked in my breath at the grit in Kahu’s voice.
“For God’s sake, quit the games and tell me what this is about.” Beauchamp was becoming impatient.
I imagined him glancing at his watch. Who was he meeting? It wasn’t me, and Selena had fled the second she saw him. His confident manner implied the meeting was prearranged.
“Ihaka Morrison is dead.”
This time the silence was longer and preceded by a shocked intake of air. Yep, Beauchamp knew this Ihaka Morrison, whoever he was. Now Kahu knew it too.
“I don’t know any Ihaakar Morrison.” Beauchamp drew out the name, making it sound different from the way Kahu pronounced it.
Intrigued, I crept closer. I wanted to see Beauchamp’s face. Kahu’s too, although if I was a betting kinda gal, I’d lay odds Kahu Williams had a hell of a poker face. As I slid to the end of the hedge, I caught the blur of movement when Kahu grabbed Beauchamp by the shoulder. He thrust his face right in Beauchamp’s and shook him like a dog shakes when it’s wet. Hard and vigorous.
“That’s a lie. You knew my brother. He worked for you and now he’s dead. Talk, damn it. I want answers. I want to know what happened.”
I heard voices behind me. So did the two men. Kahu let go of Beauchamp with a muttered oath. “Keep watch over your shoulder, Beauchamp, ’cause I’ll be there until I learn the truth about my brother.” He stalked away, luckily in the opposite direction to where I lurked.
Beauchamp appeared shaken and stirred like the proverbial James Bond special. He smoothed his crumpled satin outfit before slinking along a third path I hadn’t noticed. The man looked furtive, and the trainee cat burglar in me grew curious. I sneaked after him. About halfway down the path, a slender shadow separated from the hedge. A woman. The deluded soul threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Beauchamp didn’t object. Two shadows melted to one. Yuck!
“Hello.” An arm snaked around my waist. “Fancy finding you out here.”
Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Clichéd but oh so true.
“Doing a little spying?” Kahu whispered.
His sexy drawl got me every time and melted the heck out of my willpower. I turned, and my hand reached out to touch him before warning bells even whimpered. Bloody hell. I snatched my hand away only millimeters before I touched warm masculine skin.
“Just out for some fresh air,” I said.
“A lot of that going ’round.”
I bit back a grin. “I wanted some quiet, but I keep tripping over amorous couples. You’d think they’d prefer a soft bed.”
“Never fancied adventure?”
Oh, boy. One conversation detour coming right up. “I need a drink.” Lame, very lame.
“You know, variety is the spice of life.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I whirled about and headed directly for the steps leading to the ballroom.
A soft chuckle followed me, but I restrained the impulse to look over my shoulder. Sometimes strategic retreat is the wisest course—the only path.
Chapter Five
The funeral was scheduled for the Wednesday after Selena’s ball, in the Monings’ hometown of Kinnell Green, Lancashire. My Mini rattled up the M6, shaking and shuddering theatrically each time a truck flew past. I eyed the temperature gauge with misgiving, but the needle hovered in the middle of hot and cold. I sighed, but softly so I didn’t tempt the gods to hammer me for smugness.
Apart from a childhood foray to Blackpool, I’d never visited this part of the country before. To tell the truth, I was relieved to leave Oakthorpe. I’d let my destination slip to my father and been called upon to defend my reasons for traveling north instead of heading for the jewel-rich mansions of London. Evasion and lying without blinking an eye was becoming second nature to me, but I hadn’t quite got the impassive expression down because Father, backed up by Ben, demanded details. Of course, I’d refused,
“Liar.”
I sucked in my breath at the grit in Kahu’s voice.
“For God’s sake, quit the games and tell me what this is about.” Beauchamp was becoming impatient.
I imagined him glancing at his watch. Who was he meeting? It wasn’t me, and Selena had fled the second she saw him. His confident manner implied the meeting was prearranged.
“Ihaka Morrison is dead.”
This time the silence was longer and preceded by a shocked intake of air. Yep, Beauchamp knew this Ihaka Morrison, whoever he was. Now Kahu knew it too.
“I don’t know any Ihaakar Morrison.” Beauchamp drew out the name, making it sound different from the way Kahu pronounced it.
Intrigued, I crept closer. I wanted to see Beauchamp’s face. Kahu’s too, although if I was a betting kinda gal, I’d lay odds Kahu Williams had a hell of a poker face. As I slid to the end of the hedge, I caught the blur of movement when Kahu grabbed Beauchamp by the shoulder. He thrust his face right in Beauchamp’s and shook him like a dog shakes when it’s wet. Hard and vigorous.
“That’s a lie. You knew my brother. He worked for you and now he’s dead. Talk, damn it. I want answers. I want to know what happened.”
I heard voices behind me. So did the two men. Kahu let go of Beauchamp with a muttered oath. “Keep watch over your shoulder, Beauchamp, ’cause I’ll be there until I learn the truth about my brother.” He stalked away, luckily in the opposite direction to where I lurked.
Beauchamp appeared shaken and stirred like the proverbial James Bond special. He smoothed his crumpled satin outfit before slinking along a third path I hadn’t noticed. The man looked furtive, and the trainee cat burglar in me grew curious. I sneaked after him. About halfway down the path, a slender shadow separated from the hedge. A woman. The deluded soul threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Beauchamp didn’t object. Two shadows melted to one. Yuck!
“Hello.” An arm snaked around my waist. “Fancy finding you out here.”
Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Clichéd but oh so true.
“Doing a little spying?” Kahu whispered.
His sexy drawl got me every time and melted the heck out of my willpower. I turned, and my hand reached out to touch him before warning bells even whimpered. Bloody hell. I snatched my hand away only millimeters before I touched warm masculine skin.
“Just out for some fresh air,” I said.
“A lot of that going ’round.”
I bit back a grin. “I wanted some quiet, but I keep tripping over amorous couples. You’d think they’d prefer a soft bed.”
“Never fancied adventure?”
Oh, boy. One conversation detour coming right up. “I need a drink.” Lame, very lame.
“You know, variety is the spice of life.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I whirled about and headed directly for the steps leading to the ballroom.
A soft chuckle followed me, but I restrained the impulse to look over my shoulder. Sometimes strategic retreat is the wisest course—the only path.
Chapter Five
The funeral was scheduled for the Wednesday after Selena’s ball, in the Monings’ hometown of Kinnell Green, Lancashire. My Mini rattled up the M6, shaking and shuddering theatrically each time a truck flew past. I eyed the temperature gauge with misgiving, but the needle hovered in the middle of hot and cold. I sighed, but softly so I didn’t tempt the gods to hammer me for smugness.
Apart from a childhood foray to Blackpool, I’d never visited this part of the country before. To tell the truth, I was relieved to leave Oakthorpe. I’d let my destination slip to my father and been called upon to defend my reasons for traveling north instead of heading for the jewel-rich mansions of London. Evasion and lying without blinking an eye was becoming second nature to me, but I hadn’t quite got the impassive expression down because Father, backed up by Ben, demanded details. Of course, I’d refused,