Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,101

She’s feisty, bookish and opinionated, and is equally determined to question his every move. To his complete surprise, he is soon captivated by her intelligence, gentle beauty and utter disregard for his rakish charm. When he realizes Ivy’s life is also in danger, Rory will do whatever it takes to keep her safe, because she is his future. Ivy is just unaware of that yet.

Chapter One

Mr. Rory Haddon knew that Miss Arantxa Redfern was following him. There were two reasons for this conclusion. The first, because when he left the concert, she’d followed, and second, he’d tested his assumption by wandering up and down floors and in and out of rooms. She’d followed a discreet distance away, but he knew she was there, just not why.

He and his family were attending the Waddell Christmas concert, an amateur production that was extremely painful on the ears. Lord Waddell’s youngest son was hopeless on the violin, and his daughter often sounded like a knife scraping against a plate when she attempted to sing a high note.

However, one thing the Waddell townhouse did have that others didn’t was a splendid view of London high on the fourth floor. A turret room, so that was where he was heading, slowly, with Miss Redfern on his heels. He’d visited this vantage point last season with a friend who had a particular interest in astronomy. Lord Waddell had told Rory he was welcome back there anytime he was in the vicinity.

There was to be a short intermission before the next round of torture downstairs, so Rory had taken the opportunity to wander. Like many attending, this would be his family’s last function before leaving London for Greyton, their estate, for the colder months and Christmas festivities.

Opening the door that led up, he did not pause or look over his shoulder. Would she follow? Perhaps she’d wait at the bottom? Rory didn’t care. He wanted the ice-cold blast of air he’d get up here. The ballroom where the concert was held had been stuffy, with fires roaring and perfumed guests; plus there was Wilimenia Willoughby and her noxious mother. Both seemed to have come to the conclusion he would make a fine member of their family. Rory would rather become a monk.

He climbed slowly. Surely, she would not follow him up here—unless she didn’t know where he was going? Reaching the top, he opened the door and stepped out into the frigid night air. Inhaling, he turned left and took the narrow path that led around the roof line, just far enough away from the door so that if Miss Redfern did appear, he could stop her from leaving before he questioned her. And he would question her, because before today he’d spoken no more than a handful of words with her, and they’d been polite greetings or exchanges about the weather.

Moving back so he was near the roof, he waited and watched. Before him lay the city of London. Sprinkles of light told him the lamps had been lit. It was a magical view, and one he doubted anyone would tire of.

Rory heard the door open because it made a small squeaking sound, then saw a shadowy form appear.

“Good evening, Miss Redfern. Pleasant night for a walk around the turret, wouldn’t you say? Although perhaps a trifle chilly. The fog seems to have eased just for us. You can see a great deal of London from all sides. Some even say it is the best of all views.”

She stood still; so motionless she looked like a statue. A few feet from where Rory was, she had yet to so much as squeak. Her dress had long sleeves, but had to be cold, as she wore only a light scarf and evening gloves.

“Perhaps I can escort you around the sphere, as Lord Waddell calls it?”

“No.”

“But as you sought me out, you must wish for my company?” Rory wasn’t about to make it easier on her. It was highly inappropriate for a young woman to behave this way. If someone found them here alone together, the assumptions would be far from accurate or pleasant for either of them. “Come now, Miss Redfern, what is it you want from me?” Rory moved closer, his intent to see her expression. “Because I have never been a man to enjoy the attentions of a woman I have no wish to pursue.”

She reared back as if he’d struck her. A small, mousy woman, with a narrow pointy face and lips that were