Mr. J. A. K. Delaney was a fine figure of a man.
After all, she had seen the nakit truth.
So distracted was she by the memory that it took her some time to notice what he was doing. When she did, she leaned away from the spyhole, blinked her eyes hard, rubbed them, then looked again.
Nothing had changed. The skellum was ransacking the shelves.
Gillian sat frozen, watching the scoundrel work. Not ransacking, perhaps. Searching. That was what he was doing. Proceeding methodically, he removed a book from the shelf, felt the empty space behind it, then eyed the volume closely before turning it upside down and flipping through the pages. If nothing fell out, he replaced the book and reached for the one beside it. A time or two, a slip of paper did flutter from the inner pages and he'd catch it, read it, then return it to its place.
Gillian's mouth gaped open in shock at the man's audacity. Why was he doing this? Was Delaney a thief? A swindler? A fraud?
He was most certainly a liar.
Gillian pushed to her feet and began to pace the passageway. That man. What was he looking for? Money? Jewels? Not information about the castle like he'd claimed, obviously. And to think he tried to make poor Flora feel guilty about stretching the truth with these specter schemes. What a bleen o' blethers that was.
It made Gillian furious.
She had to do something. She had to find out what he was about. A hundred different possibilities flitted through her mind, each more troublesome than the last.
She had to find out the truth. But how? Confront him? Cajole him? Accost him in his sleep?
A dozen or more minutes ticked by as she walked the floor and considered the question. Eventually, her path took her toward a corner where a spider web snagged on her hair and floated in front of her face.
Gillian reached up to bat the web away, but froze when the sticky silk adhered to her finger. "Spiders."
She spent long seconds lost in thought before her mouth bowed in a slow, wicked smile. "Spiders, Of course!"
Gillian returned to the spyhole and watched the rascal continue about his task. A soft chuckle escaped her mouth. "Don't look now, Texas. But you are in for the fright of your life."
Chapter 4
The timely arrival of Mr. Douglas allowed Jake three unsupervised hours, which he utilized to make a methodical search of the library. While he didn't find the missing Declaration of Independence tucked between two of the numerous volumes of love stories, he did find a section of books that caused his heart to skip a beat.
One entire set of bookshelves held issues of early Texas newspapers bound into books. He took his time, flipping through each page of every volume, expecting at any moment to come upon the handwritten document he sought.
He didn't find it. Not in the newspapers, nor between the pages of any of the other books he searched. Still, he'd come to the right place. He knew it in his bones. Besides, when he began to sense he'd spent all the time he dared in the endeavor, he still had another whole wall yet to explore.
Jake was forced to face a truth. Making a one-man physical search of a place as big as Rowanclere Castle would not get the job done. He either would need to reveal his true purpose or trick the information out of them. After a few moments' deliberation, he settled on trickery. It seemed to fit the folk of Rowanclere better than telling the truth.
Following an early supper, he had just sunk the eight ball in a practice game of billiards, then settled into a chair pulled close to the fireplace to read the newspaper when Mrs. Dunbar swept into the room and said, "Well, Mr. Delaney, are you ready to continue your tour?"
Jake frowned. His hostess had changed clothes since the last time he'd seen her, and she looked particularly fetching in a gown of rose pink silk. "I thought I was scheduled for a visit with the laird of the castle."
"I am sorry." Her dainty brows dipped into a worried frown. "Uncle Angus is not
After all, she had seen the nakit truth.
So distracted was she by the memory that it took her some time to notice what he was doing. When she did, she leaned away from the spyhole, blinked her eyes hard, rubbed them, then looked again.
Nothing had changed. The skellum was ransacking the shelves.
Gillian sat frozen, watching the scoundrel work. Not ransacking, perhaps. Searching. That was what he was doing. Proceeding methodically, he removed a book from the shelf, felt the empty space behind it, then eyed the volume closely before turning it upside down and flipping through the pages. If nothing fell out, he replaced the book and reached for the one beside it. A time or two, a slip of paper did flutter from the inner pages and he'd catch it, read it, then return it to its place.
Gillian's mouth gaped open in shock at the man's audacity. Why was he doing this? Was Delaney a thief? A swindler? A fraud?
He was most certainly a liar.
Gillian pushed to her feet and began to pace the passageway. That man. What was he looking for? Money? Jewels? Not information about the castle like he'd claimed, obviously. And to think he tried to make poor Flora feel guilty about stretching the truth with these specter schemes. What a bleen o' blethers that was.
It made Gillian furious.
She had to do something. She had to find out what he was about. A hundred different possibilities flitted through her mind, each more troublesome than the last.
She had to find out the truth. But how? Confront him? Cajole him? Accost him in his sleep?
A dozen or more minutes ticked by as she walked the floor and considered the question. Eventually, her path took her toward a corner where a spider web snagged on her hair and floated in front of her face.
Gillian reached up to bat the web away, but froze when the sticky silk adhered to her finger. "Spiders."
She spent long seconds lost in thought before her mouth bowed in a slow, wicked smile. "Spiders, Of course!"
Gillian returned to the spyhole and watched the rascal continue about his task. A soft chuckle escaped her mouth. "Don't look now, Texas. But you are in for the fright of your life."
Chapter 4
The timely arrival of Mr. Douglas allowed Jake three unsupervised hours, which he utilized to make a methodical search of the library. While he didn't find the missing Declaration of Independence tucked between two of the numerous volumes of love stories, he did find a section of books that caused his heart to skip a beat.
One entire set of bookshelves held issues of early Texas newspapers bound into books. He took his time, flipping through each page of every volume, expecting at any moment to come upon the handwritten document he sought.
He didn't find it. Not in the newspapers, nor between the pages of any of the other books he searched. Still, he'd come to the right place. He knew it in his bones. Besides, when he began to sense he'd spent all the time he dared in the endeavor, he still had another whole wall yet to explore.
Jake was forced to face a truth. Making a one-man physical search of a place as big as Rowanclere Castle would not get the job done. He either would need to reveal his true purpose or trick the information out of them. After a few moments' deliberation, he settled on trickery. It seemed to fit the folk of Rowanclere better than telling the truth.
Following an early supper, he had just sunk the eight ball in a practice game of billiards, then settled into a chair pulled close to the fireplace to read the newspaper when Mrs. Dunbar swept into the room and said, "Well, Mr. Delaney, are you ready to continue your tour?"
Jake frowned. His hostess had changed clothes since the last time he'd seen her, and she looked particularly fetching in a gown of rose pink silk. "I thought I was scheduled for a visit with the laird of the castle."
"I am sorry." Her dainty brows dipped into a worried frown. "Uncle Angus is not
Similar Books
