longer in U.S. federal custody."
Lizzie concentrated on the flames. She knew Will would be watching for her reaction.
Keira stayed steady. "Simon was right, then. Estabrook cut a deal with prosecutors in exchange for his cooperation."
"They can re-file charges at any time if he doesn't hold up his end," Will said, then added, "There's more, I'm afraid. He left his Montana ranch this morning on a solo flight in his private plane."
"Then no one really knows where he is." Water dripped from the ends of Keira's hair, mingling with the dog's muddy prints on the warm hearth. "Will, Norman Estabrook threatened to kill both Simon and John March."
"I know, Keira. He has no history of violence, and apparently he and his attorneys were able to persuade prosecutors that he spoke in the heat of the moment."
"I don't believe that," Keira said.
Neither did Lizzie, but she was staying quiet.
Will glanced at the bound Irishman, then at Lizzie, then shifted back to Keira, his expression giving away nothing of what he was thinking. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I'm fine, thanks to--" Keira turned to Lizzie with a look of embarrassment. "You just saved my life and I don't even know your name."
After what had happened at the stone circle and in Boston, with a possible British spy with them in the pub, Lizzie was even more determined not to get into names. Simon would recognize her, but he wasn't here--and the attack on Keira and the bomb in Boston changed everything.
She needed a new plan.
She moved away from the fire, out of Will's immediate line of sight. He was handy in a fight, but she had to get her bearings before she dared giving up her anonymity.
Eddie brought the tray of brandy over to the fire and handed a glass each to her, Keira and Will. For a split second, Lizzie thought the barman's suspicion of her had eased, but as he stood back with his empty tray, he tilted his head and frowned at her.
Still didn't trust her.
He turned to Will. "I told Patrick and Aidan I'd wager our black-haired stranger here knew how to knock together a head or two." He sniffed at the bungee-corded thug. "I see I was right."
Keira warmed her hands over the peat fire. "I wasn't much help." She glanced at Lizzie. "You certainly do know how to handle yourself in a fight."
"Adrenaline," she said.
"It was more than adrenaline."
"I've taken a few self-defense classes." Starting with her father when she was two. "Luck helps. I had surprise on my side. Our friend here had size, strength and experience."
"And two knives," Keira said.
"If he'd managed one good punch, he'd have knocked me clear across the bay to the Ring of Kerry."
Keira smiled, but Will didn't react at all to Lizzie's attempt at lightheartedness. The glow of the fire reflected in his eyes, deepening the gold flecks. His control was not, she knew, to be mistaken for nonchalance. He was a very capable, dangerous man on high alert.
"Why didn't you run when you had the chance?" Keira asked.
"Story of my life," Lizzie said with a smile.
Will sipped his brandy. "You fought with real skill."
"A maniac coming at you with a knife'll do that."
Keira pushed up the sleeves of her oversize sweater, the hem of her skirt soaked and muddy. She was clearly worried about her family and friends in Boston--about Simon--but she had a kind of inner serenity that Lizzie admired. Serenity wasn't her long suit.
She took one small sip of her brandy and set the glass on the table. As tempted as she was, she wasn't about to settle in for the evening with a bottle of brandy and a chat with the Irish police, who would arrive soon.
She moved in front of the man who'd attacked her. He was outnumbered and unlikely to kick her. Nonetheless, she knew how to fight from a bound, seated position and, assuming he did, too, stayed clear of his feet. "You didn't decide to attack Keira on your own, out of the blue," she said. "Who hired you?"
He turned his head from her. Even if he didn't respond, his body
Lizzie concentrated on the flames. She knew Will would be watching for her reaction.
Keira stayed steady. "Simon was right, then. Estabrook cut a deal with prosecutors in exchange for his cooperation."
"They can re-file charges at any time if he doesn't hold up his end," Will said, then added, "There's more, I'm afraid. He left his Montana ranch this morning on a solo flight in his private plane."
"Then no one really knows where he is." Water dripped from the ends of Keira's hair, mingling with the dog's muddy prints on the warm hearth. "Will, Norman Estabrook threatened to kill both Simon and John March."
"I know, Keira. He has no history of violence, and apparently he and his attorneys were able to persuade prosecutors that he spoke in the heat of the moment."
"I don't believe that," Keira said.
Neither did Lizzie, but she was staying quiet.
Will glanced at the bound Irishman, then at Lizzie, then shifted back to Keira, his expression giving away nothing of what he was thinking. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I'm fine, thanks to--" Keira turned to Lizzie with a look of embarrassment. "You just saved my life and I don't even know your name."
After what had happened at the stone circle and in Boston, with a possible British spy with them in the pub, Lizzie was even more determined not to get into names. Simon would recognize her, but he wasn't here--and the attack on Keira and the bomb in Boston changed everything.
She needed a new plan.
She moved away from the fire, out of Will's immediate line of sight. He was handy in a fight, but she had to get her bearings before she dared giving up her anonymity.
Eddie brought the tray of brandy over to the fire and handed a glass each to her, Keira and Will. For a split second, Lizzie thought the barman's suspicion of her had eased, but as he stood back with his empty tray, he tilted his head and frowned at her.
Still didn't trust her.
He turned to Will. "I told Patrick and Aidan I'd wager our black-haired stranger here knew how to knock together a head or two." He sniffed at the bungee-corded thug. "I see I was right."
Keira warmed her hands over the peat fire. "I wasn't much help." She glanced at Lizzie. "You certainly do know how to handle yourself in a fight."
"Adrenaline," she said.
"It was more than adrenaline."
"I've taken a few self-defense classes." Starting with her father when she was two. "Luck helps. I had surprise on my side. Our friend here had size, strength and experience."
"And two knives," Keira said.
"If he'd managed one good punch, he'd have knocked me clear across the bay to the Ring of Kerry."
Keira smiled, but Will didn't react at all to Lizzie's attempt at lightheartedness. The glow of the fire reflected in his eyes, deepening the gold flecks. His control was not, she knew, to be mistaken for nonchalance. He was a very capable, dangerous man on high alert.
"Why didn't you run when you had the chance?" Keira asked.
"Story of my life," Lizzie said with a smile.
Will sipped his brandy. "You fought with real skill."
"A maniac coming at you with a knife'll do that."
Keira pushed up the sleeves of her oversize sweater, the hem of her skirt soaked and muddy. She was clearly worried about her family and friends in Boston--about Simon--but she had a kind of inner serenity that Lizzie admired. Serenity wasn't her long suit.
She took one small sip of her brandy and set the glass on the table. As tempted as she was, she wasn't about to settle in for the evening with a bottle of brandy and a chat with the Irish police, who would arrive soon.
She moved in front of the man who'd attacked her. He was outnumbered and unlikely to kick her. Nonetheless, she knew how to fight from a bound, seated position and, assuming he did, too, stayed clear of his feet. "You didn't decide to attack Keira on your own, out of the blue," she said. "Who hired you?"
He turned his head from her. Even if he didn't respond, his body
Similar Books
