Beguiled by Arnette Lamb Page A

Loo exaggerates—when she’s not making trouble.”
    â€œShould you have a change of mind and want my professional help, please ask.”
    A change of mind would occur—on the day she was reunited with her sister. Knowing his offer was sincere, she said, “Thank you.”
    He led her into a wide corridor typically Georgian in style. “How did an Oriental woman who speaks the King’s English come to be your friend?”
    He probably wouldn’t believe Agnes’s explanation, and if he did believe, the odds were good that he’d judge her unfairly or call her unfeminine. Most of her kinsmen did. A pity, for among the Orientals the ancient skills Agnes practiced were revered as artistry.
    But she couldn’t tell him another lie. Not tonight. “I saved her father from an assassin. According to custom in his country, he owes me his life. Since he could not give it, he gave me Auntie Loo.”
    â€œShe is a slave?”
    â€œA well-fixed one. Her allowance is greater than mine.”
    â€œDid you take a crossbow quarrel for the emperor of China?”
    He sounded irritated, but she knew it was only bruised male pride. “ ’Twas not nearly so dramatic, for I didn’t suffer the smallest bruise.”
    â€œBut you will not furnish the details.”
    â€œCertainly,” she chirped. “When I know you better.”
    â€œSo you’ve said before. On the day we become friends, we will have much to discuss.”
    He hadn’t said if but when. Was their expected friendship a foregone conclusion or a polite slip of the tongue?
    His voice dropped. “You were foolish to move into the path of that arrow.”
    He was entitled to his opinion. “I thought the book would stop it.”
    â€œâ€Šâ€™Twould have taken a powerful book to halt the trajectory.”
    Only a scientist would phrase it that way. “It is a powerful book,” she said proudly. “ ’Tis filled with the chronicles of Clan MacKenzie.”
    He chuckled. “How remiss of me to forget your great Highland heritage.” Swinging the lamp toward a door, he said, “There’s the library. Does the wound pain you tonight?”
    â€œOnly a wee bit, but I think you stitched me up with itch weed.”
    Bemusement suited him well. “Here we have the music room and beyond it an audience suite for the day Hannah masters at least one musical instrument.”
    â€œChristopher has no liking for music?”
    â€œManly adventures are his watchwords. That door leads to the east receiving room. It’s also the entrance nearest the stables. We leave our muddy boots and wet cloaks there.”
    â€œI shan’t be entering there until I’m well.”
    â€œA hole ’neath your clavicle is nothing to scoff at.”
    She slid him a cheeky look. “Not unless I were trying to anger my physician.”
    Now that he was smiling, she decided to broach an important subject. “What other damage was done—in your study?”
    â€œWhy do you wish to see the vandal’s leavings?”
    â€œBecause it will tell us what he wants.”
    â€œAbove my demise?”
    â€œAye. The more we know about his purpose, the quicker we will find him.”
    His brow furrowed, and his mouth tightened in indecision. “Will you persist until I agree?”
    She sighed and gave him her most self-effacing grin. “To be honest, the odds favor that, my lord.”
    Blowing out a breath, he exuded impatience. “Are all of the women in your family as spoiled as you?”
    â€œAll except Mary, but she’s more stubborn than the rest of us. She’s an independent thinker, too.”
    â€œPity the earl of Wiltshire then,” he murmured as he pushed open the door to his study. “Here we are.”
    They had walked a path in the shape of an inverted U, but square at the corners. According to her inner compass, the west