A Touch of Scarlet

by Renee Ryan

  “I am?” she replied in a careful voice, clearly suspicious of him now.

  Wise woman.

  He shot out his hand. “Let’s have a look.”

  When she simply stared at his open palm, he wiggled his fingers in a silent hurry-up gesture.

  “Oh. Yes. Right. You want to see my list.”

  Head down, she dug around in her purse. The way she fumbled with the strings, and nearly dropped the tiny bag on two separate occasions, told Luke he’d adopted the perfect strategy in their battle of wills.

  With a triumphant grin, she placed the list in his hand.

  Closing his fist over the piece of paper, he let his fingers linger over her hand a shade past polite. Her sharp inhale was its own reward.

  The infamous list now in his possession, he held her gaze, taking his time unfolding the paper.

  She swallowed.

  Excellent. He was making her nervous. Her impatience all but vibrated out of her.

  Holding back a smile, he lowered his head and studied the page. Elizabeth had pretty, neat handwriting. Very feminine, very much as he would expect.

  He read the first item aloud. “Wear last season’s dress.”

  She’d already accomplished that one and survived completely unscathed.

  Perhaps he was overreacting. Perhaps she didn’t plan to push the boundaries too far.

  He continued reading.

  Walk in the rain, barefoot . . . Attend a vaudeville show . . . Play a game of chance.

  All the adventures were, as she’d claimed, relatively innocuous. Though they seemed to escalate in risk.

  “Well?”

  “I’m still reading.”

  “Would you mind hurrying up?”

  Hearing something in her voice, he cast a surreptitious glance in her direction. She stood there, waiting, her gaze unwavering and direct, not an ounce of embarrassment.

  Luke was actually feeling better, until he read the sixth item on her list: Ask a man to dance.

  His stomach dropped. That one could prove problematic, depending on the man. With the proper supervision, however, the task was manageable.

  Number seven.

  Kiss a man under the moon and stars.

  His heart stuttered in his chest. He felt a muscle twitch, then tighten in his jaw. He’d read enough. He need not continue to know Elizabeth’s thirst for adventure was stronger than he’d anticipated. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  Luke knew.

  Mouth grim, he thrust the list back into her hand, closed her fingers over the paper.

  “So?” Her ridiculously long eyelashes fluttered. “Will you help me?”

  Reckless. The word kept showing up in his mind.

  Luke put the rest of his plan in motion. He began with a frank question. “Let’s talk about number seven. Why under the moon and stars?”

  Her cheeks turned a becoming pink. Not quite meeting his eyes, she gave a self-conscious shrug. “For the romance, of course.”

  “The romance,” he repeated, not sure why her answer rankled.

  She lifted her chin at a haughty angle. “Without a bit of romance, what’s the point of breaking the rules?”

  Luke’s patience snapped. The woman definitely needed to learn a lesson. And he was just the man to do the teaching. Better him than someone who might exploit her innocence.

  “You believe it would be romantic to kiss under the moon and stars, as opposed to, say . . . on a rooftop . . . or”—he moved to within inches of her—“in a man’s favorite room?”

  The shock that jumped into her eyes was exactly the reaction he’d intended. A promising start.

  Gaze locked with hers, he reached out, slowly, deliberately, fully aware of the predatory nature of the move.

  She looked at him with wide eyes, so trusting, so captivating in the glow of the fire. She was made to be admired by firelight, pale and delicate, her skin radiating good health.

  A burst of tenderness flooded his senses, his heart, his soul.

  Drawn to her in ways he’d never been drawn to a woman, he ran a finger along the curve of her cheek, tucked a wayward wisp gently behind her ear. “So pretty.”

  “Luke.”

  His name was like a caress, encouraging him to continue. He leaned in closer, moving with considerable care, as if she were a skittish colt poised to bolt at any moment.

  He brushed his mouth across hers.

  Enjoying the sensation more than he should, he loitered a moment, his lips barely touching hers. She began to shake. No, that was him. What was he doing?

  The lesson had gone awry.

  With considerable effort, he shifted back a step.

  Her hand flew to her lips. Blinking rapidly, eyes a bit dreamy, her breath came in fast, erratic spurts. Luke had done that to her, with nothing more than a sweep of his lips along hers. What would her reaction be if he put some effort into it?

  He wanted to know. God forgive him, he wanted to discover what lay beneath that prim façade and serene smile.

  Dangerous territory.

  Elizabeth dropped her hand and gave him a secretive little half smile. “That was rather quite nice.”

  Nice?

  “Thank you, Luke.” That female smile moved into her eyes, turning the clear blue to a smoky gray. “Although you didn’t kiss me under the moon and stars, I believe I’m moving in the right direction. I can now mark number seven off my list.”

  He’d taken a strategic misstep.

  The woman was supposed to have learned a lesson, not be encouraged to continue her outrageous quest in earnest.

  “That was not a kiss.” It was a matter of principle he make that clear.

  A look of confusion stretched across her features. “No?”

  “Not a proper one.” He leaned over her and whispered close to her ear, “When I kiss you properly, Elizabeth, you will know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Slightly dizzy from the mysterious heat spreading through her limbs, Elizabeth digested Luke’s words. Had he just promised to kiss her again?

  When I kiss you properly, Elizabeth, you will know.

  “Perhaps you could show me what you mean?”

  “Absolutely not.” Expression closed, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nor will you embark on a quest to tick off any more items from your list. Better yet, give it to me.”

  “Why?”

  Impatience surfaced, glowing in his eyes as hot as the flames burning behind him. “So I can put an end to this nonsense.”

  “No.”

  After a brief flick of his gaze toward the fire, he advanced on her, his intent obvious. “Give it to me.”

  “No.”

  He sprang for her.

  Anticipating the move, she was already spinning around and bolting for the hallway.

  “Get back here, Little Bit.”

  Oh, no. The man could not kiss her one moment and then call her by the childish nickname the next.

  She whipped back around. “I don’t want your help after all. I’ll approach someone more agreeable. Forget I was ever here.”

  He stalked into the hallway after her. “Who do you have in mind?”

  She hadn’t worked that out yet. “Someone.”

  “You will not approach another man with your proposition.” He strode toward her with long, unhurried strides. The look on his face was frustration itself. She was clearly trying his patience.

  Well, he was trying hers.

  “You cannot stop me.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, not one wasted move. Even in his irritation, Luke was in complete control of himself. Elizabeth would have stopped and admired that impressive trait if she wasn’t equally annoyed with him.

  “This scheme of yours is a spectacularly bad idea.”

  She vehemently disagreed. “My future has been preordained from the crib, every step mapped out, every decision already made. As a result, I am almost perfectly useless for any task but marriage.”


  “That’s not true. You are gifted in countless areas.”

  She’d just bared her soul to the man, yet he refused to acknowledge the truth of her situation. “You are missing the point entirely.”

  “Elizabeth. Look at me.”

  “I would really rather not.”

  His hands moved to frame her face, and he waited until her eyes met his before speaking again. “I understand why you wish to spread your wings. But your route is far too dangerous.”

  “This is the path I choose. It is my life, my decision.”

  Still cupping her face, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—of course—and smiled at her with such tenderness, a thread of hope bloomed in her heart.

  “There are other ways to taste adventure without jeopardizing your reputation.” He lowered his hands. “Let me help you find another way. We’ll formulate a new plan, together.”

  Translation: You can’t be trusted with this task on your own.

  Elizabeth supposed she should look on the bright side. At least he was amenable to helping her reach her goals, if not in the way she chose to do so.

  “I don’t know if I can agree, Luke.” She lowered her head so he wouldn’t see the flash of hurt moving inside her. “I’ll have to think about your offer.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  No, he was asking so much more.

  “We’ll discuss moving forward at a more appropriate hour,” he told her. “In a less scintillating environment.”

  He was back in his role of protector. The man was nothing if not consistent.

  “In the meantime . . .” He pulled the cloak’s hood over her head and directed her to the back of the house. “I’ll drive you home in my motorcar.”

  “I prefer to walk.”

  He started to argue.

  She cut him off. “We cannot be seen leaving your house together.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you out on the streets alone at this hour.”

  “I made it here without incident. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way home in the same manner.”

  On this point, she would not bend.

  “Good-bye, Luke.” Refusing to hear another word of protest, she slipped out the door to the sound of his muttering.

  Elizabeth hastened down the sidewalk with fast, purposeful steps. A cold sweep of air slipped beneath her cloak, sending a chill down her spine. She tugged the hood lower over her eyes.

  The calendar claimed springtime had arrived, but the season was stubbornly refusing to show its face. Cold mist hung on the air like a filmy curtain.

  She was glad for the warmth of her cloak.

  She was not glad for the results of her trip to Seventy-Seventh Street.

  Lucian Griffin was the most stubborn, hardheaded, arrogant male of her acquaintance. Did he truly believe she couldn’t walk twenty blocks on her own? Apparently so, proof positive he would forever see her as a wayward child in need of a man’s protection.

  Elizabeth thought of her cousin. In the name of survival, Caroline had done things Elizabeth could hardly comprehend. She’d picked pockets, played games of chance, traveled to a foreign country entirely on her own. Caroline was clever and resourceful. Elizabeth was also clever and resourceful. She merely had to tap into the part of her that shared the same blood as her cousin.

  She glanced to the heavens, thought about praying, but the words wouldn’t come. There was no harm in wishing for a taste of adventure in the way she chose, and on the terms she set. Luke was wrong to dissuade her from her quest.

  Elizabeth would change his mind. Or find a more willing partner. Oh, but Luke was her first choice. The only choice that made sense.

  When I kiss you properly, Elizabeth, you will know.

  The memory of his mouth on hers had her hand lifting to her lips. Buildings on either side of the street cast long, dark shadows at her feet, broken only by the weak sunlight that peeked through a seam in the grubby gray clouds overhead. The sidewalks were virtually empty, much as they’d been when she’d left St. James House an hour ago.

  One hour, that’s all it had taken for Luke to quash her plans.

  A minor setback, nothing more. If Luke thought he could talk her into a tamer approach to breaking the rules, he was very much mistaken. Her determination carried her the remaining nineteen blocks.

  The moment Elizabeth entered St. James House, warmth curled around her from every direction. She was in the process of removing her gloves when the butler appeared in the foyer.

  “Good morning, Aldrich.”

  “Miss Elizabeth.” The butler’s face held a blank stare that must have taken years of practice to master. “You are up early.”

  Though she didn’t owe him an explanation, Elizabeth didn’t want him telling her father or grandfather about her impromptu outing. There would be questions, questions she had no intention of answering.

  Glancing at the stately clock nestled in an alcove by the staircase, she read the time. Seven o’clock, hours before she normally alighted from her room. No wonder Aldrich’s eyes held a slightly inquisitive glint.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go for a brisk morning walk. The cool air was quite refreshing.”

  Two bushy eyebrows lifted toward the receding hairline. “No doubt it was.”

  The man was certainly well trained. Despite the questions swirling in his black-eyed gaze, he voiced none of them.

  Elizabeth shed her cloak and handed it to the butler. He turned to go. She nearly called him back when she realized the shawl was still stuffed inside the lining. She would have to retrieve it later.

  At the top of the stairs, she started down the hallway toward her room, then changed direction when she noted the light coming from her father’s study.

  For months, she’d been furious with him for banishing her mother to Florida. Katherine St. James should have received a harsher punishment.

  Elizabeth knew she wasn’t being fair to her father. He’d done what he felt was right and what would ultimately benefit her. She’d been too upset to acknowledge that he’d suffered his share of pain. How distressing it must have been to discover he’d married a woman who’d deceived him their entire marriage.

  The pang in Elizabeth’s heart was sorrow. She’d played her part in their strained relationship and owed her father an apology.

  Redirecting her steps, she knocked tentatively on the door. It swung open from the gentle force, and Elizabeth entered the room. Her father stood by the hearth, which boasted the remains of smoking embers from a dying fire. His shoulders were slumped, his head lowered.

  He looked thoughtful.

  No, he looked defeated. “Father?”

  His red-rimmed, miserable gaze connected with hers.

  “Elizabeth.” He attempted a smile, but couldn’t hide the strain shadowing his eyes and leeching his face of healthy color. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You left the door half-open.”

  “Ah.” The word hung between them.

  Elizabeth searched for something to say to break the tension. Her father had once been free with his affection, ready to laugh. He’d given of himself, asking for nothing in return.

  Much had changed in the months since her mother’s treachery had been uncovered. This morning, however, her father seemed even more dejected than usual. What had happened, Elizabeth wondered, since last evening?

  Lowering her gaze, she noticed he held a letter in his hand. Alarm filled her, and she moved a step closer. Angling her head, she caught a glimpse of the handwriting.

  Months-old hostility replaced her concern.

  Elizabeth recognized the bold slash of ink across paper and yet found herself asking, “Is that from Mother?”

  He nodded. “We have been corresponding on a regular basis.”

  Blood crashed through her veins. “You . . . what? Why? What does she want from you?”

  With a surprisingly steady hand, her father folded the crisp pages and stuffed them in his coat pock
et. “Forgiveness.”

  A familiar, white-hot anger flared to life. How dare her mother ask such a thing? “She can’t have it.”

  “Elizabeth, I understand you’re angry. I certainly see—”

  “Why aren’t you angry?” The cold fury stirring inside her had once felt foreign but was familiar now, growing stronger, morphing Elizabeth into someone she hardly recognized. “She betrayed the family. She betrayed you. She kept your sister from coming home, your own sister. Libby died destitute and impoverished because of Mother’s actions, or did you forget that part?”

  “I won’t deny what your mother did was reprehensible.” He released a heavy sigh. “She claims she is sorry.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  He winced as though she’d kicked him in the shin. “I believe she is sincere.”

  A hot ball of dread pooled in Elizabeth’s stomach. Her desire to mend matters with her father was lost in the sensation. How could he entertain forgiveness?

  “Mother isn’t sorry for what she did. The only reason she admitted to anything was because her deceit was exposed.”

  Had Caroline not come to America to seek justice, had she not confronted Katherine with her suspicions, the family would still be ignorant of her selfish character.

  “You are being too hard on your mother.”

  “And you are not being hard enough.” He’d adored his sister. Even when he’d thought Libby had abandoned the family, he’d insisted on naming Elizabeth after her. Elizabeth was proud to carry her aunt’s name.

  “How many letters have you and Mother exchanged?”

  “Several.”

  A fresh spurt of panic trickled down her throat. “You’ve read several of her letters and responded.”

  “Your mother deserves a chance to explain herself.”

  Elizabeth’s head throbbed. She pressed her fingertips into her temples, but the pain failed to subside.

  Her mother had intercepted nearly three dozen letters from Libby. In an effort to ensure Libby understood she wasn’t welcome, Katherine had returned all of them unopened. Libby had died thinking her family didn’t want anything to do with her. Now, Katherine sent letters—letters!—to her husband begging for his forgiveness.

  “You shouldn’t have opened them. You should have treated Mother with the same coldhearted silence she gave Libby.”