Miss Priscilla Weatherby,
Lady Adventurer
* * *
(Working draft)
She slammed the book closed and pressed it to her pounding chest.
He wasn’t going to write a biography about her. He’d already started. It was right here in her hands.
She opened it back up, but the pages were impossible to read with the blurring of the words. She swiped at her eyes with her fist and focused on the first sentence. She was good at focusing. Thaddeus had done this.
For her.
When she reached the last page, her tears were gone but the hole in her chest had grown larger.
He was extraordinarily talented. Observant, insightful, witty. He made her seem strong and sure, fresh and fascinating. This, despite a life of precisely nothing. He would be a phenomenal biographer. A household name.
And he was obsessed with her… for now.
No muse lasted forever. What would happen when someone or something better came along? Because it always, always did. If her family had taught her anything, it was that love was irrelevant. The shinier object was the one men chased. No matter how much they’d once loved the jewel they left behind.
Maybe “men” weren’t the problem. Maybe it was Priscilla who was leave-behind-able. A flash in the pan; exciting for a moment and then just as quickly forgotten. Not good enough to want to keep around forever.
Priscilla pushed the journal aside and went to release her parrot from his cage.
She didn’t need a man. She needed adventure. She had herself, and she had Koffi.
“Tea and cake?” he said hopefully.
She fumbled for the snuff box and gave him a treat. He deserved it.
Even if no one came for her, the two of them were going anyway. Priscilla had made a promise. Others might break theirs, but she did not.
She held out a finger for him to perch on.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “If you leave me when we get there, I promise not to cry.”
He ignored her finger and flew high overhead where she could not reach him.
“Goodbye, my love!” he squawked. “Goodbye!”
She closed the snuff box and picked up her stack of maps and travel journals. If even Koffi was ready to leave… She should prepare herself for that day, too.
Chapter 10
The moment he’d sent the parcel, Thad regretted allowing his manuscript out of his sight. It wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. Perhaps he never would be. Why, oh why, had he sent that package? Of all the dunderheaded gifts a man could give a woman…
He had spent the night far too tense and jittery to do anything so calm as sleep.
The morning had not fared any better. Five o’clock in the morning was far too early for house calls, and dawn two hours later wasn’t much of an improvement.
Breakfast? How could he? His stomach was too busy doing somersaults to welcome toast or even tea. And still the hands of the clock moved with excruciating languor. Inch by inch. Tick by tock. He had to get that manuscript back.
Perhaps she hadn’t read it yet.
That was the one thought that helped him survive the horrible not-knowing.
