Secrets of a Perfect Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

recollected sensations as if he’d truly experienced them and the memories lingered, imprinted on his senses. Yet the woman was unfamiliar, no one he knew. He seriously doubted she was real; she’d been too lushly sweet, too uncomplicated, and too damned tight. More likely she was a figment of his ever-active imagination.

    Perhaps he’d had a touch of fever.
    With the fire once more roaring, Tom stood. “Miss Abigail said as how your curricle must be out on the road somewheres.”
    Adrian lifted his head. “What happened to my horses?”
    “They’re snug in the stable at back.”
    “Good.” Adrian slumped back. “The curricle—what’s left of it—is down by the ford.”
    “I’ll go and fetch your begs once I’m finished with the fires.”
    Adrian started to nod, then stopped. “Is it still snowing?”
    “Blizzard’s over, but it’s still coming down on and off.”
    “In that case, no—wait until I can come, too. I don’t want you risking a broken leg, not out there alone.”
    Tom bobbed his head. “I’ll be in the kitchen, then, when you’re ready.”
    Tom let himself out and shut the door. Adrian considered the panels, then sat up and swung his legs over the bed’s edge. It was time to get dressed and face his new future.
    And Abby, too.
     
    “Good morning, Abby.”
    “Oh!” Abby whirled from the hall mirror. She’d been passing and had stopped to contemplate her reflection, and wonder what he would see; how long she’d been standing, staring, wondering, she had no idea; that only added to her confusion.

    Wide-eyed, she stared at Adrian. Please, God, don’t let him have realized—don’t let him guess .
    He tilted his head as he came toward her. “It is still morning, I take it?”
    One brow rose quizzically; Abby quashed a ridiculous urge to whirl and flee. She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. “Yes. It is.” She met his gaze; all she saw was puzzlement. The sight gave her heart and let her catch her breath. “It’s just eleven.”
    “Ah.” He halted before her. Even in his rumpled coat and creased cravat, he still looked elegant—and dangerous. He didn’t, however, look shocked or surprised, or even mildly concerned; Abby breathed a trifle easier.
    “Tom mentioned that Bolt woke up, but wasn’t in full command of his wits.”
    She nodded. “That was in the small hours. Agnes has been watching him—he’s still sleeping.”
    Adrian frowned. “Is the nearest doctor still at Two Bridges?”
    “Yes, but Agnes doesn’t think Bolt’s condition is serious—it’s just that he’s not as resilient as you and needs more rest.” When Adrian continued to frown, Abby summoned a light smile, put her hand on his arm, and eased him back. “You must be starving—come into the kitchen and we’ll find you some breakfast.”
    He stepped back, then fell in at her heels. “If you’re sure Bolt’s all right, then yes, I’m ravenous.”
    Abby led the way into the commodious kitchen. With its flagged floor, stone walls, and two huge hearths, the room remained comfortably warm regardless of the weather. From the dresser she took down aplate, handed it to Adrian, then waved him to chafing dishes left to keep warm on the top of the cast-iron stove. “There’s kippers and kedgeree, and some ham and eggs. Would you like coffee?”
    Adrian headed for the stove. “Please.”
    While he piled his plate high, Abby busied herself making the coffee, then slicing some bread. When he returned to the table and pulled out the chair at one end, she laid bread and butter, knife and fork, before him, set a cup of steaming coffee down, then retreated to the chair at the table’s other end.
    She watched as he took his first bite, then closed his eyes in silent appreciation. “That’s so good.” Opening his eyes, he tucked in. “There’s nothing like good country kippers.” His statement that he was ravenous had been no exaggeration; with single-minded determination, he set about