The Impostor's Kiss

“And just what is it that I am?” he asked, baiting her. He didn’t want her to leave just yet.

She turned to face him, lifting a hand to her face, covering her eyes as she spoke to him. The flush in her breast returned, followed by the one in her cheeks. But she didn’t cow. Her mettle brought a smile to Merrick’s lips. “I shall be most pleased to make you a list,” she told him, and then added, “After you do me the courtesy of covering yourself, my lord.”

He ignored her request. “Make me a list, then.”

“Are you decent?”

More so than he’d like to be. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I warrant it’s nothing you haven’t seen numerous times before,” he told her pointedly, and waited for her to deny it.

She parted two fingers slightly to peek through and closed them again with a soft gasp. “You are so crude!”

“Crude?” But she didn’t deny his allegation.

“And rude!” she added, but she didn’t turn to go, he noticed. In fact, he thought he saw her peeking again through those long, delicate fingers.

“Go on,” he encouraged. As a test to see if she was looking, he let the coverlet drape further.

She gasped softly and his smile deepened. “You are selfish, arrogant, spoiled, ungrateful, vulgar—shall I continue, my lord?”

“I think I get the idea,” he relented, though with a half smile.

“Yes, well, then…I am leaving now,” she informed him tersely. “Because I cannot bear to remain in your presence another instant, my lord!”

“What about Hawk?” he prompted, his lips curving slightly upward when she made no move to go.

“Hawk?” She sighed. “He, of course, is beloved, kind, compassionate, generous, charitable, noble, brave—” With every endearing adjective, she lost a note of shrewishness; her tone became even wistful.

Merrick’s smile vanished completely. “I thought you were leaving,” he said. Her defense of the bugger irritated him more than it should have.

“I am leaving,” she assured him.

“He’s nothing but a common thief,” Merrick told her. “There is absolutely nothing noble about him. The man robbed me and left me to die where I lay.”

He thought she rolled her eyes, but they were still covered and he couldn’t quite tell. “You were scarce in danger of bleeding to death,” she assured him, unmoved. “It was merely a scratch.”

“Really?” His fingers sought his wound for validation. “Scratches don’t require stitching,” he protested. Damn, but was he looking for pity? He didn’t deserve the contempt she was giving him.

Hawk did.

“Oh, yes, it should scar quite nicely,” she said, sounding smug as she turned her back to him at last.

Heartless vixen.

“And as long as we are discussing the matter so freely,” she added, casting him a glare over her shoulder, “I believe justice was served last night—a lesson to you for running out so rudely on your mother’s birthday celebration. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall go and inform the constable that you are quite eager to see him.”

His mother’s birthday celebration?

Her declaration rendered him speechless.

As though his eyes were drawn to it, he glanced across the room, noticing for the first time the portrait of a woman in her youth. It was the same woman in the portrait his father had guarded so fiercely. She was unmistakable in her elegance. He blinked, glancing back at the fiery angel paused in the doorway, and was struck at once by the truth.

It was no accident of nature that he and Hawk looked so remarkably alike that no one seemed able to tell them apart.

Pure emotion barreled through him, the force of it so intense that he was glad he was lying down. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

She marched from the room, leaving Merrick to stare after her, stunned by his epiphany.

Hawk was his bloody brother.

And his mother…she was still alive.

Ryo had known, damn him to hell. That was why he’d tried to keep Merrick from Glen Abbey Manor. It was also why he’d delayed their arrival as long as he’d dared and then had bolted away at the first opportunity…thinking Merrick was still aboard, no doubt. He was like to be halfway to London by now…with Merrick’s brother in tow.

When the haze cleared from his thoughts and he looked up again, she was gone.

Merrick leaped from the bed. “Wait!” he called after her. But he didn’t know her bloody name and she didn’t stop.

Chapter Four

H ow dare he look at her as though she’d rent his heart from his breast, Chloe thought as she made her way to the drawing room. She was vexed with herself for feeling remorse where Lord Lindale was concerned. Why should she regret harsh words when he deserved to feel wretched?

In the drawing room she found Lady Fiona engaged in a heated discussion with Constable Tolly, refusing to give quarter. She smiled softly as she watched the mistress of Glen Abbey Manor at work. She guarded her privacy and her son like a lioness.

“My son will be most pleased to receive you on the morrow,” she assured the constable. “However, today I shall not allow it.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “Please forgive me if you feel thwarted. That is certainly not my intention.”

The constable stood with his hat in hand, his face florid with agitation. “My lady,” he pleaded. “How will I capture this brigand if you and the rest of Glen Abbey refuse to cooperate? You above everyone in this town should be most concerned after what he’s done to you.” He was referring to her crippled legs, and straightened uncomfortably, rising to his full height.

His awkward attempt to cow Fiona failed miserably. She was as unrelenting as the constable was persistent.

Unable to rise to the occasion, Lady Fiona straightened in her chair, clearly piqued. “It is my full intention to cooperate with your investigation, William. As you recall, I gave you a full report when I encountered the cad myself. But I simply cannot allow you to disturb my son whilst he recovers, and that is that!”

“But, madame!” the constable protested still. “The time to debrief Lord Lindale is now, while the incident is freshly impressed upon his brain. Not later, when time has eaten away at his memory like tiny maggots.”

“I beg of you, don’t be so melodramatic!” Lady Fiona charged him. Her usually pale complexion suffused with a furious rose. “And by the by, what incident is it that you are speaking of?” she asked him, tapping her nails firmly against her wheeled chair. “I was told that he fell off his bloody horse!”

The constable gasped at her blasphemy. Lady Fiona never lost her sense of propriety. Still, he persisted. “Attempted robbery, my lady. We have reason to believe there may have been one.”

“Really?” Chloe asked, lifting her brows. “Did someone report a robbery?”

The constable finally noticed her standing in the doorway. For an instant he considered his answer. “Not precisely, Miss Chloe, but last evening there were reports of a strange vehicle in the area—headed toward Glen Abbey Manor. Today the vehicle seems to have utterly vanished. It obviously did not arrive at its destination, nor was it registered at the inn.”

Chloe chewed her bottom lip, contemplating whether to reveal Lord Lindale’s confession.

“I rather hoped Lord Lindale might shed some light on the mystery.”