Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,105
only caused her to narrow her eyes at him.
“Why would you use a name similar to that of someone you loathe?”
Because he was going to take great pleasure in writing the scene where the man was hanged. Or he might become a victim. He hadn’t really decided yet. Either way, gruesome ending for the bloke.
“Oh, my God, he’s the murderer,” she suddenly blurted.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I think it would be a great twist if it was the inspector.”
Only he liked the inspector. The man was methodical, unemotional, and skilled at deduction. He wanted him to solve the murder in the next book as well. It was strange how he thought of these characters as though they truly existed.
A rap sounded on his door.
“Come in.”
Jewel opened it and peered in. “Beast, a fancy gent is here to see you. His name is Ewan Campbell.”
The name wasn’t familiar. “Did he say what he needed with me?”
“No, but I think you’re probably going to want to talk with him.”
With a question in his eyes, he glanced over at Thea, who looked at him, studied him, slowly shook her head. “I don’t know him.”
“Well then, I guess I need to see what he’s about.”
Shoving back his chair, he stood. Since he was on his feet, he decided to take advantage of it, walked over to where Thea worked, bent over, and captured the mouth she’d tilted up to him. He’d never get enough of her kisses. Never get enough of her.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, she gave him a seductive smile. “Don’t be too long. And lock the door on your way back in.”
Chuckling, he strode into the hallway. Life had never been so sweet, so full of promise. His visit with the gent was going to be the shortest he’d ever experienced because he was already primed to return to the study and lock that door.
He quickened his steps as he went down the stairs to the front parlor. He’d barely crossed the threshold before coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of the man standing with his back to the doorway, his head bent as he studied either his shining boots or the fire dancing on the hearth. His visitor was large, as tall as himself, with shoulders just as broad. His black hair streaked lightly with silver brushed across his shoulders.
“Mr. Campbell, you wished to have a word with me?”
The man turned around slowly, and Beast had the sensation of his world tilting precariously, making it a challenge to retain his balance. It was like looking at his reflection in a mirror. Everything within him went still, quiet, hushed, his mind devoid of thought, his lungs battling to draw in air. He didn’t know what to make of this man who reminded him so much of himself, the man staring at him as though he’d just encountered an apparition recently risen from the grave.
“You’d be Benedict Trewlove, then,” Mr. Campbell said with a thick Scottish brogue. In his large hand, based on the shade of the cloth covering the hard binding, he was holding a copy of Murder at Ten Bells.
“I would be, yes. Are you in want of my signature in your book?”
Campbell looked down at his hand, seemingly surprised to find himself grasping the novel, as though he’d forgotten he had it. But he clutched it so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “Nae. I brought it as an excuse in case my Mara wasnae correct. But I’m thinking she has the right of it.”
Beast couldn’t make any sense of what the man was saying. “I’m sorry, Mr. Campbell, but I’m not certain why you’re here.”
“Do you know when you were handed over to Mrs. Trewlove?”
A cold shiver of dread skittered down his spine. “November.” The tenth, to be exact, but he didn’t see how it was any of this man’s business.
“The year?”
“I don’t see—”
“The year.”
Suddenly, he didn’t like that the man’s hair was as black as his, his eyes as dark. That he had such a strong jaw, a broad brow. “Campbell, I don’t know what the hell—”
“Have you seen three and thirty years?”
The man might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water on him, the shock might have been less. He wasn’t one to go about giving people his age, so how the devil did Campbell know it? “The particulars of my life are none of your business.”