The Reluctant Lark Read Online Free PDF

cap. As she stepped into the small shower cubicle adjoining the dressing room, she wondered if she dared return to the hotel and call her uncle at O’Daniels’s penthouse and plead weariness.
    She shook her head resignedly as she realized the effect of this action. This was the first time since Challon’s appearance at the concert five days earlier that she hadn’t had either a solicitous Sean Reilly or Uncle Donal himself at her side constantly. She’d been practically smothered by their loving attention. The only reason she’d been allowed to make her own way to the party tonight was that her uncle and Sean were in a meeting O’Daniels had called just before the party.
    She turned off the water reluctantly after a quick shower and drifted off hurriedly. Her uncle had hung the gown he wished her to wear on the door, and she reached for it with a vague feeling of displeasure. It was not black like her stage costume but a soft Quaker gray. She did get so tired of these eternal grays, blacks, and whites. Just once she would like to take on the brilliant plumage of a cardinal or a bluebird, she thought as she dressed.
    She felt an odd twinge of pain as she remembered Challon’s remark about transforming her from a dove to a lark. She hadn’t seen Rand Challon since that night, despite that last cryptic warning he had uttered. She should be grateful of the fact, she assured herself staunchly. His presence had caused her nothing but problems.
    Uncle Donal and Sean had been extremely wary and watchful after Challon’s foreboding exit, she reflected. For the first time since Rory’s death, her uncle had been positively sharp with her; he had insisted on her not seeing Challon again.
    Challon had appeared on her horizon like a bolt of lightning and disappeared just as quickly. Perhaps it had amused the great man to challenge and bewilder the little Irish entertainer, she thought with an odd hurt. Well, evidently he had lost interest in his game, and she was well rid of him. Her life was once again on an even keel, and she could devote herself to her career with no disturbing, golden-eyed playboy to upset her.
    She quickly brushed her dark tangle of curls and added a touch of makeup before pulling her black velvet cloak carelessly about her shoulders. She cast one last glance at the somber woman in the mirror, then flipped the light switch and closed the door.
    The theater was deserted now, and her footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden floor as she walked quickly to the stage door. The attendant on duty was a young, sandy-haired man in his early twenties, who looked up with a friendly grin as she approached.
    “Your taxi is waiting outside in the alley, Miss Reardon,” he said. “Mr. O’Shea asked me to arrange for it the minute you came offstage.”
    Sheena smiled gravely. “Thank you. That was very considerate of you.”
    “My pleasure,” he said breezily, as he opened the stage door for her. “Let me help you down those steps. The outside light is burned out, and I haven’t gotten around to changing it.”
    Sheena was grateful for the firm hand beneath her elbow as she negotiated the short flight of steps. The alley was almost pitch dark with only the headlights of an occasional passing car from the traffic on the far cross street. There was a yellow cab waiting only a few yards from the stage door with a shadowy driver barely discernible behind the wheel.
    “I’ll be fine now,” Sheena told her escort as they stopped before the rear door of the taxi. “Thank you for your help.”
    The young man opened the car door. “Good night, Miss Reardon, have a pleasant evening.” His hand beneath her elbow suddenly propelled her forward so strongly that she almost fell into the backseat of the taxi.
    “Damn it, not so rough! You know what he said he’d do to us if we hurt her!” The masculine voice was harsh, but the grasp of the man occupying the backseat of the taxi was gentle as he pulled her the rest of the