Once she had concluded her business, she headed back outside. Her attention elsewhere,thinking of Father O’Leary’s expression when he received her message,she was just reaching for the mare’s reins when a smooth, seductive voice flowed over her skin, rushing to every nerve ending and bursting with life.
“We meet again, Miss O’Malley.”
Fallon spun to meet Atticus Clare’s dark, twinkling gaze.From a distance, she didn’t have to be held in thrall from his seductive looks, but up close…“Mr. Clare,” she murmured and turned back towardHoney. She tried to untie the reins from the post, but her fingers were shaking so badly that she kept fumbling with the leather straps.What was wrong with her?Surelyhehadn’t unsteadied her this badly?
“Allow me.”
Fallon held her breath as a masculine hand enteredher line of visionand easily removed the reins. As he handed them to her, their hands brushed and for some reason, it caused her toes to flex in her boots. “Thank you,” she managed to say.
An awkward silence fell as she set her boot in the strap and grabbed hold of the horn, preparing to hoist herself into the saddle, but a pair of strong hands clasped her abouthermidsection andeasilytossed her upward. When she hooked her other leg over thehorn, she finally allowed herselfa briefglancedownwardathim. He was regarding her with an expression that was equally mirthful andrather… delicious.
She inclined her head. “Good day.”
He offered a gallant bow as she turned and urged Honey into an easy trot, although it would be some time before her pulse would finally regulate itself.
***
Once Atticus wasassuredthat Fallonhad departed, he strode into the postal office. The man behind the counter gave him an easy smile. To anyone that might observe them, it would appear that they were mere acquaintances, but in truth, he was another of the Raven’s informants.It was his job to makeAtticusaware of any correspondence between England and Ireland before it left Southampton. Since Atticus had just seen Fallon leave the office, he’d had the feeling she was writing to someonebackin Carraroe.“Do you have anything for me today, Jefferson?”
“Justone.” The younger man smiled easily and handed him a sealed missive, Father O’Leary’s namewritten on the front in delicate,feminine script.
Atticus took the letter with a grim expression. He tapped it against his palmthoughtfully. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
It wasn’t until Atticus walked down the docksand shut the door to his office that he finally regarded the missive once more. He tooka seatbehind the desk, reached for his letter opener, deftly slid it under the wax seal, then unfolded the paper.
As he read theletter’scontents, a frown creased his brow. Once he’d finished, he carefully folded it back and after allowing a nearby candle to remelt the wax, heresealed it. But eventhough he was no longer look at the damning black print, thedisquietingwords were imprinted on his brain. For all of Stewart and Sean’s faith in Fallon, it appeared that, in this case, they were mistakenin her loyalties. They had told Atticus that she was devoted to the elder cleric in Ireland, that he had been like a second grandfather to her, but if this letter had any ring of truth to it,then that hadallchangedsomewhere along the way. What disturbed him even further was that she seemed quiteset onleavingSouthampton.What could have possibly happenedwithin a week’s time to makeher feel as if she was so trapped?
Hebrieflyrecalled Stewart’s cautionary that Francine and Locklyn had been seen conspiring together at the Hog’s Head Pub. He made a mental note to find out what they were planning, for that might beat the heartof Fallon’s reluctance to remain at Shawsea Hall.Perhaps she had discovered something nefarious and was scared to remain.
But the question that niggled at his brain was—what could it be?He couldn’t imagine anything where Francine Shaw and Locklyn Durmor might conspire to do anything together. And yet, he wouldn’t put anything past Durmor, considering his rather unsavory history.
Atticusdrummed his fingers ontop ofthewoodand decided that he would speak with Seanabout Fallonwhen he was next in port, which likely wouldn’t beuntil the end of the week. Either way,what little information Stewart had passedonto him wasn’t enough to understandher character,it wasn’t enoughto explainwhy she had suddenly turned against the Ravenwhen she had just extolled his virtues at the ball.
Either way, hedecided it would be a good idea to keep a close eye on Miss O’Malleyuntil he knew more, as well as not worry Father O’Leary unnecessarily.
Withdrawing a sheet of paper from his desk, he wrote his own letter to the good priest in Carraroe.
***
By the time Fallon had returned to Shawsea Hall, she noted a carriagewasparked in the drive and dread immediately filled her. Apparently, Francine wasn’t wasting anytime ensuring that Fallon adhered to her demands to entertain Locklyn Durmor.
She left Honey with Abrams, but the moment she walked in the front door she didn’t have time to change before her aunt had summoned her to the parlor.
As she drew closer to the drawing room, she heard the distinct rumble of a male voiceas well as her aunt’s, but another woman’s as well. Shewished itcouldhave been Eliza, but she knew that wasn’t the case.
Straightening her backbone, sheturned the corner and instantly metthe flat gaze of Martina Durmor.In turn, Fallonclasped her hands in front of her andpasted on afalse smile.“Mrs. Durmor. What a lovely surprise.”
“Miss O’Malley.I’m pleased to see that you finally graced us with your presence.”The older woman sniffed.
“I apologize. I didn’t know you were coming.” It was all Fallon could do to remain polite.
Locklyn entered the fray as hesauntered forward and took her hand in his, lightly pressing his lips against her bare knuckles. She had to resist the urge to rip her hand away from his mouth and wipeoffanyevidence of his kiss on her dress. However, he didn’t appear to note her disgust, or else he was so depraved that he actually reveled in it,forhe added, “You are as lovely as you were last evening, but then, your beauty shines through effortlessly.”
Does this sort of empty, flatteringprose actually affect any woman?“You’re too kind,” she returned blithely, while forcing the bile down her throat.
He grinned and after heled her over to thesettee,shesank down onto the cushions while he tookthe seat beside her. WithFrancineand Martina remaining seatedacross from them, Fallon knew it was going to be a long afternoon.A tea tray had already been wheeled in and as a maid pouredthetea, Fallon noted that her cousindidn’t appear to be coming. “Is Eliza not joining us?”
