of
course you did. I have your letter right here in my reticule, and you... you
arranged my passage from England—"
"I
didn't arrange a damn thing!"
At
that moment, a whirlwind of tumbled curls and sweet muslin frock bolted out the
door, Cassandra still fastening the buttons at her throat.
"Miss
Linton!" Cassandra cried, rushing up to the woman, beaming. "I'm
Cassandra. It's so wonderful to meet you at last!"
The
Englishwoman looked astonished.
"Cassandra...
but I thought—thought..." A flush stained her cheeks. She looked down at
the plaything in her hand.
"You
thought I was younger, didn't you?" Cassandra trilled, her smiling gaze
fixing on the little lady rigged out in primrose-hued satin. "Did you
bring this for me?"
Aidan
gaped as his daughter—of late so determined to guard her dignity—reached out to
accept the toy then stroked the doll's tiny feathered bonnet. "It's
adorable! I shall save it for when I have a little sis... ahem!" She
dissolved into a fit of theatrical coughing.
"You
know this woman?" Aidan interrupted, pinning his daughter with a glare.
What he saw made his stomach knot. "Cassandra, what is this? Some sort of
crazed joke?"
"Joke?"
What little color had stained the woman's cheeks drained away. "You can't
mean you had no—no idea...."
"It's
not a joke, Papa," Cassandra said breezily, linking her arm through that
of the stunned Englishwoman. "Miss Linton is the present I told you
about."
"My
present?" Aidan choked out, casting a wild glance from his daughter to the
woman standing in his carriage circle. "What the devil is she supposed to
be? A maid servant? A governess?"
"Don't
be ridiculous, Papa." Cassandra gave a fluttery laugh. "You don't
need a governess."
"You
drag some strange woman from God knows where, and tell me she's my goddamn present,
and then say I'm being ridiculous?" He sucked in a deep breath,
battling for inner balance. He knew damn well he shouldn't ask the question
Cassandra was so obviously anticipating, but he couldn't help himself.
"If
I don't need a governess, what in the blazes do I need?"
The
girl who was the mirror image of Delia raised her chin with a pure Kane
recklessness that always presaged disaster.
"What
you need is a wife."
CHAPTER 2
"A wife?" Aidan bellowed, feeling as if the earth had split beneath
him. Anger flooded through him. He couldn't move. Didn't dare. Because if he
did, he'd be tempted to thrash his daughter for the first time in his life.
Aidan
let fly a string of oaths. The coachman dove for cover. The sturdy footman who
had unloaded the trunk tried to hide behind the lead horse in the coach's
traces.
The
Englishwoman looked as if Aidan had snatched O'Day's whip from the coach seat
and lashed it about her head and shoulders.
Only
Cassandra stood her ground, her face twisting in a formidable scowl.
"Papa, if you'll just stop and think for a moment, you'll see that it's
the most perfect gift in the world."
"Why
not snap a foxtrap to my leg and call that my present? Better still,
shove my boot through the stirrup and have Hazard drag me a dozen miles! A
wife? My God, Cass—"
"Stop
it right now!" she hissed between clenched teeth. "You're going to
ruin everything!"
"There's
nothing to ruin!" he snapped. "I need a wife like I need a cup of
hemlock, Cassandra! There is no way in hell that I'm marrying anyone. Especially some brainless female so desperate she'd marry a man she'd never
set eyes on before! By God's blood, she must be mad!"
"You're
right, of course." The woman's voice startled Aidan, and he wheeled to
glare at her. Something about her reminded him of a wildflower crushed beneath
a careless bootheel. Those dark eyes were bleak in a pale face, and in them he
could see just how much hopefulness she had packed up along with her polished
trunk and her flower-decked bonnet. But it was the set of her shoulders that
tightened the cinch of tension about Aidan's chest. For they were squared
beneath the blue pelisse with