Read Online Anne Barbour by A Dedicated Scoundrel - Free Book Online
Authors: A Dedicated Scoundrel
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Caliban was getting on. The poor old fellow was no doubt missing him, and without proper exercise, he’d soon be up to no good.
Catherine watched him as he navigated the distance between the bed, the window, and then the writing desk at the far end of the room. He moved awkwardly, but with a silent intensity. Even hampered as he was by the crutch, the power of his stride was apparent, and Catherine was reminded of a caged lion she had seen once at the Tower. Suffering from a sore paw and confined by the bars of his cage, the big cat was still the king of the beasts—still menacing in his sheathed power. It was obvious from the way Mr. Smith clamped his lips together that he was in pain, but he persevered until he had made his way around the perimeter of the room.
“I’ll be leaving now, my dear.”
She turned with a start to observe that Adam had picked up his bag and was ready to depart. Catherine put her hand out to him. “Thank you for coming, Adam.”
He took her hand and sent her a speaking look. “You know I’ll come any time you ask, Catherine.”
Catherine could feel a blush creep over her cheek at the warmth of his words, spoken in front of a stranger. Was he sending Mr. Smith a message? she wondered. She experienced a spurt of irritation. She shot a glance at Mr. Smith, who was studiously surveying the scene outside the window.
An awkward silence fell, and at last the doctor cleared his throat.
“Good day, then,” he said gruffly, and Catherine produced a stiff nod. She followed him from the room and was surprised to find, upon reaching the corridor, that Mr. Smith had remained on their heels.
“But I can’t just stay in bed all day,” he said, his eyes wide. “I thought I might visit the stables. To take a look at my horse,” he finished hastily as he was treated to two blank stares. “If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction ... ?”
“Of course.” Catherine’s voice was still tinged with embarrassment. “I shall take you myself if you will wait a moment while I see Adam to the door.”
She placed a hand on Adam’s arm and swept away, not sure if she was hurrying to escape those too perceptive gray eyes, or to get Adam out of the house before he committed any further faux pas.
“It’s all right, Catherine.”
Adam’s brown eyes suddenly sparked with mischief. “I could find my way around your house blindfolded by now. I’ll see myself out.”
Turning to Justin, he added, “Miss Meade and I are such good friends—I am sure you will understand, we do not stand on ceremony.”
With a wave, he set off down the corridor, leaving Catherine to fume impotently. Justin, availing himself of the arm Catherine held out for his support, was forced to grin to himself in appreciation. Rather a master stroke that. The doctor had managed to convey several messages in that brief statement, none of which was meant to offer encouragement to an importunate stranger taking up residence—even temporarily—in the house of Miss Meade.
Winter’s Keep was a very large house, Justin discovered. Catherine led him through several corridors, passing rooms of various functions, all elegantly furnished. Leaning heavily on her arm, he managed without incident the great staircase that led from the upper story of the house to the ground floor. The entry hall was impressive, to say the least. From the stairs, an ocean of polished marble flowed to a massive front door, lapping along the way at doors leading to small salons, elegant as jewel boxes, lying along the hall’s perimeter.
They did not cross to the entry, however, but turned toward the back of the house, which involved more passages that became darker and narrower as they approached the service wing.
“Whew!” breathed Justin at last. “Perhaps we should have packed a lunch.”
Catherine grinned. “Yes. Charlie Winter had a healthy respect for the concept of high living.”
“And all this is yours?”
“Yes. I really
Catherine watched him as he navigated the distance between the bed, the window, and then the writing desk at the far end of the room. He moved awkwardly, but with a silent intensity. Even hampered as he was by the crutch, the power of his stride was apparent, and Catherine was reminded of a caged lion she had seen once at the Tower. Suffering from a sore paw and confined by the bars of his cage, the big cat was still the king of the beasts—still menacing in his sheathed power. It was obvious from the way Mr. Smith clamped his lips together that he was in pain, but he persevered until he had made his way around the perimeter of the room.
“I’ll be leaving now, my dear.”
She turned with a start to observe that Adam had picked up his bag and was ready to depart. Catherine put her hand out to him. “Thank you for coming, Adam.”
He took her hand and sent her a speaking look. “You know I’ll come any time you ask, Catherine.”
Catherine could feel a blush creep over her cheek at the warmth of his words, spoken in front of a stranger. Was he sending Mr. Smith a message? she wondered. She experienced a spurt of irritation. She shot a glance at Mr. Smith, who was studiously surveying the scene outside the window.
An awkward silence fell, and at last the doctor cleared his throat.
“Good day, then,” he said gruffly, and Catherine produced a stiff nod. She followed him from the room and was surprised to find, upon reaching the corridor, that Mr. Smith had remained on their heels.
“But I can’t just stay in bed all day,” he said, his eyes wide. “I thought I might visit the stables. To take a look at my horse,” he finished hastily as he was treated to two blank stares. “If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction ... ?”
“Of course.” Catherine’s voice was still tinged with embarrassment. “I shall take you myself if you will wait a moment while I see Adam to the door.”
She placed a hand on Adam’s arm and swept away, not sure if she was hurrying to escape those too perceptive gray eyes, or to get Adam out of the house before he committed any further faux pas.
“It’s all right, Catherine.”
Adam’s brown eyes suddenly sparked with mischief. “I could find my way around your house blindfolded by now. I’ll see myself out.”
Turning to Justin, he added, “Miss Meade and I are such good friends—I am sure you will understand, we do not stand on ceremony.”
With a wave, he set off down the corridor, leaving Catherine to fume impotently. Justin, availing himself of the arm Catherine held out for his support, was forced to grin to himself in appreciation. Rather a master stroke that. The doctor had managed to convey several messages in that brief statement, none of which was meant to offer encouragement to an importunate stranger taking up residence—even temporarily—in the house of Miss Meade.
Winter’s Keep was a very large house, Justin discovered. Catherine led him through several corridors, passing rooms of various functions, all elegantly furnished. Leaning heavily on her arm, he managed without incident the great staircase that led from the upper story of the house to the ground floor. The entry hall was impressive, to say the least. From the stairs, an ocean of polished marble flowed to a massive front door, lapping along the way at doors leading to small salons, elegant as jewel boxes, lying along the hall’s perimeter.
They did not cross to the entry, however, but turned toward the back of the house, which involved more passages that became darker and narrower as they approached the service wing.
“Whew!” breathed Justin at last. “Perhaps we should have packed a lunch.”
Catherine grinned. “Yes. Charlie Winter had a healthy respect for the concept of high living.”
“And all this is yours?”
“Yes. I really
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