The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,38

more to my decision to retire than my injuries, although they were a factor.”

“I see.”

He did not volunteer any more information. He just sat very quietly, watching the elegant guests mill around the hot artifacts.

And that was as much as he was going to tell her, she thought. Whatever had occurred in the course of his last assignment had left psychical wounds as well as his physical injuries.

“Allow me to tell you, Mr. Gage, that the reason you are feeling invigorated isn’t because of me,” Beatrice said. “It’s because you have been summoned to consult on a case of great personal importance. It has given you an objective. You needed a suitable goal to bring you out of retirement, a reason to use your talents once again.”

“Invigorated,” he repeated, as if speaking to himself. “You may be on to something. I have been feeling more . . . vigorous lately.”

There was a little heat in his eyes. The woman in her recognized it at once. She was annoyed by the realization that she was blushing.

“I’m not surprised to hear that, sir,” she said, keeping her tone brisk. “It is obvious that, your need for a cane aside, you are possessed of a sound physical constitution and an agile mind. Rusticating in the country for an extended period of time was bound to prove depressing to a man of your nature.”

“An interesting theory,” he said. He paused a beat before adding, “I will admit it was a very long year. In fact, sitting here with you now, I am acutely aware of just how long this past year has been.”

Something in his voice, a hint of sexual innuendo, jolted her senses.

“Yes, well, one way or another, I’m certain we can contrive to muddle through with our partnership because, for now at least, our goals are aligned,” she said quickly.

“As long as that is the case we can work together, is that what you are saying?” he asked.

“Precisely. I do understand that your first priority is to catch the person who is blackmailing your sister. If that person proves to be the same individual who hired an assassin to murder Dr. Fleming and kidnap me for unknown reasons, I will be exceedingly grateful to you.”

“I do not want your gratitude, Miss Lockwood.”

Each word was delivered in ice. Before she could respond, Joshua gripped his cane and pushed himself to his feet.

“Leaving already, Mr. Gage?” she asked. “I do hope it’s not on my account.”

“This conversation has been quite . . . stimulating, but I think we have exchanged enough pleasantries for one evening, don’t you? If we continue along these lines, I fear we will soon be at each other’s throats. And while that might be entertaining in some ways, it would no doubt cause a scene that would interfere with the investigation. Good evening, Miss Lockwood.”

“Good evening, Mr. Gage.”

She could make deliveries in ice, too.

“I will watch for the candle in your window,” he said.

He disappeared back into the shadows of the passage from which he had appeared a short time earlier. For a moment longer she thought she could hear the faint tapping of his cane echoing down the hallway. The sound faded into silence.

When she was certain that he was gone she rose and crossed to the display case that he had opened.

Steeling herself, she raised the glass lid and heightened her senses. The hilt of the blade blazed with the intense energy of Joshua’s prints.

Gingerly she reached inside to touch the gilded handle.

Small shocks of lightning sparked across her senses.

“Damn,” she whispered. “That hurt.”

Hastily she withdrew her hand and lowered the lid.

She had known that the ancient blade was saturated with the dark, seething energy of old violence. But the invisible lightning that danced through her just now was not ancient. It had been laid down by Joshua. Her senses found it very stimulating, very masculine and, yes, quite vigorous.

Sixteen

As long as I have told you the reason I am being blackmailed, I may as well tell you what brought me to see you at the Academy,” Hannah said.

The reception in the great hall had ended. The guests were drifting upstairs to their rooms. Beatrice and Hannah were in Beatrice’s bedroom waiting for Sally to finish turning down Hannah’s bed.

“Please do not feel compelled to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Beatrice said. “The source of your anxiety is none of my affair.”

“That may have been the case at the time, but things have changed,” Hannah said.