Some Enchanted Waltz Read Online Free PDF Page B

astonishment.
    “She scarcely knows her name. Dr. Magnus said she’s suffered a severe trauma to the brain and has lost her memory. She has no identity, save the one we give her.”
    Mick studied his employer with an ever deepening frown.
    “As you pointed out, I’m running out of viable solutions, short of murder.”
    “ Aye. ”  Mick’s eyes reflected admiration. “It’s a grand scheme, my lord. The Saints be praised, your intended survived, didn’t she now? And didn’t I bring her to you at the break of day.”
    Dillon nodded, giving the shrewd man a cautious smile. “Yes, Mick, we’ll just say that you did bring the honorable Miss Tara MacNeill to me in the wee hours of the morning, and you’ll have a fine bonus for such a service.”
    “Ah, you’re all heart, man.” Mick smirked. Dillon nodded and moved toward the Gull’s Nest Tavern to enlighten his adversary of the arrival of his long awaited bride.
    Should he blatantly refuse the Sheriff’s daughter, he was certain the man would find some means, false ones if necessary, to expose him as a member of the United Irishmen. Burke would see him hanged and perhaps try to persuade the authorities to grant him the Dillon lands as a reward for his loyalty.
    Months ago, Adrian circulated the story of his engagement to a young lady he met abroad, promising she would be arriving at Glengarriff harbor with her father shortly before the wedding ceremony. It bought him time, but lately Burke had come to doubt the reality of the bride, leaving Adrian no recourse but to conjure one in order to avoid Burke’s snare.
    If, however, the fictitious fiancée suddenly appeared, Burke’s carping could be accounted as sour grapes when Dillon married another, as the pugnacious man had boasted often to all and sundry that his daughter would marry Viscount Dillon, as if by proclaiming it openly he could bring the deed to pass.
    Yet, this was surely the work of magic; a perfect tale of infinite sorrow as his betrothed washed up on the shores of her lover, herself the sole survivor of a wreck on the cliffs. The Sidhe Race were responsible for the shipwreck, he knew that of a certainty. That race of beings was a little lower than angels and a little above mankind. Tara had been conjured from the mists, but none, save he would ever know it.  
    Dillon entered the Inn with hope warming his heart. The task before him was to convince the carnivorous bastard of the sincerity of his love for the fair Tara MacNeill. 
    The squat, plump law officer coddled a tall mug of ale, looking as if he were the owner of Glengarra Estates rather than Lord Dillon.
    Sheriff Burke began without mincing words. “My girl’s no spring chicken, to be sure. Still, she’s a hearty lass, won’t tear in the plucking’, that one. I’d rest easier if she were taken care of when I'm gone. And you, sir, can rest easier, knowing your loyalties to the crown will not be questioned further.”
    “I have no idea of what you are implying, Burke.” Adrian took the seat across from him. He crossed his long legs, assuming a casual pose as he worked his snare. He removed a glove, slowly peeling away the soft leather, and then turned his attentions to his other hand, giving it the same careful attention. “I am weary, I have yet to find sleep since yestermorn and I have pressing business at home.”
    “I want your word that you’ll marry my girl.” The Sheriff quaffed his ale, and then added, “Or I go to the magistrate with what I know.”
    “And what would be the charge, Burke?  Failure to yield to blackmail, unwillingness to marry another when I am already betrothed?”
    “Not that sad tale again.” Burke returned hotly. “You’ve worn that yarn out. Summer has waned, autumn has come and gone, and I’ve yet to see your bride alighting from a ship as you claim. Winter is come and still, you beg the same tired excuse. I waited discreetly when your sister died three months back, out of respect for your