Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 17

"Why did you go alone?"

"What were you thinking?"

"What would we have done if something had happened to you?"

She wanted nothing more than to flee the questions. She had paid the price of her foolishness in her terror of the dark alley. Of course, Ethan and Lavinia didn't know that. She had decided against telling them. It would have only made things worse.

Their expressions when they looked at her were worse than any words might have been. Lavinia's big eyes lingered on her, and she could see the evidence of concern mirrored in their depths. In fact, the effect her short disappearance had had on Lavinia was easy to see in her pale features.

Cassandra had never felt so trapped in such a large house. She almost wished the Fergus's hadn't offered to house them for a few days. She suspected they had done so to make it easier to keep an eye on Lavinia, but Charles had claimed it was only because he needed Ethan's help with some estate papers.

It wasn't that they meant to make her feel so terrible, but the scolding she had received from Ethan about her irresponsibility added to Lavinia's appearance made her feel like a naughty schoolgirl who must be put back in her place. That was what had made her leave out the details of her stay in that dirty little village. They didn't need to know, and she had no need to tell them.

Drawing a deep breath, she shuddered at the memories. Her sleep had been irregular and unrestful since the event—three nights earlier. For some reason, her subconscious saw fit to plague her with visions of her attackers. This time, however, there was no Graham to rescue her.

Clutching the seat of the garden bench, she tried to put the images out of her head. Focusing instead on the vibrant colors of the sky and the peaceful trickle of water from the fish pond. The wind teased at her hair, cleansing her mind and senses, and she wished she could stay out here forever.

She hadn't seen Graham since that night. He'd delivered her to the door, accepting her refusal of his help wordlessly. That had been that. He'd not been there at breakfast or any of the following meals. She hadn't asked about him, either. Maria was already looking at her in a suspicious way after she'd told her—mostly accurate—story. Evidently, Maria thought there was something more to be told, and apparently, she thought it involved Graham.

Cassandra bit her lip. A part of her was disappointed she hadn't been able to see him. There would have been some comfort in having someone nearby who knew everything. Although, she quickly amended, there is nothing—could never be anything—comforting about that man! And when she reminded herself of his insufferableness, she was no longer sorry he wasn't there.

Still, she should have liked to thank him. That would have repaid part of her debt. She hated being indebted to anyone—especially him. Of all people, he had to have been the one to come upon her, to save her. The thought almost infuriated her as much as he did.

A step on the path made her look up. Graham McRoberts was lazily making his way toward her without showing any sign that he was doing so intentionally. The sun was at his back, silhouetting his profile against the evening sky. He was a man everyone noticed, a man women would find handsome, a man who commanded attention because of his easy manner.

Think of the devil, she grumbled to herself. As if knowing he was being studied, he plowed a hand through his hair, letting it fall where it willed. Narrowing her eyes, she turned her gaze to the nearby geraniums, pointedly ignoring him.

"A pleasant evening." He commented. Unable to resist, she shot a glance at him. He was standing in a relaxed position, his eyes on the sunset. If she hadn't known better, she'd've thought he didn't know she was there.