Page 22 of Wild Hearts

Paris, wearing dark riding clothes, wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. He entered the formidable gray structure through a high window at the side of the building and once more found himself in the dismal entrance hall of the orphanage. He waited a few silent moments, then went toward the back, where he knew Mrs. Graham had her private quarters. Her sitting room was empty. He sensed something as his eyes swept the darkened room. His ears were alerted for any strange sound, but all he could hear was the loud ticking of a clock. Her bedroom door stood open. Quietly, he walked to the door and struck a light.

The body lay upon the bed in a natural pose. He swiftly discerned her throat had not been cut, nor were there any wounds. He knew, however, that she had been murdered. Smothered in her sleep most likely, as there was no sign of a struggle. This was one he could definitely lay at Abrahams's door. No doubt Tabby hadn't been the only orphan he'd purchased from Mrs. Graham, although she likely was the first female. If Abrahams thought Graham was involved in the demand for ransom, he had disposed of her out of revenge. Of course, he would have paid others to do his dirty work. Paris hoped that she had not been questioned, but for now he must assume Abrahams knew his identity.

He opened the bedroom window and glanced out. The alley was deserted. He departed quickly and quietly without the risk of going back through the building. Next he made contact with each of his men who were doing surveillance for him. He particularly questioned the man watching the Abrahams residence. Yes, two rough-looking types had visited early in the evening. No, no woman of Mrs. Graham's description had been brought to the house. Callum McCabe had made one visit to Abrahams, and Abrahams had made one visit in return.

McCabe's eyebrows shot up when he found Cockburn waiting for him to open his office. "I thought .you wished to conceal your identity, milord."

"I am afraid it may be too late for that. Tell me what transpired with Abrahams."

"I delivered your demand for ransom. Though incensed, I got the impression he was not surprised. Later he visited me and told me he would be willing to meet the demands."

"Too willing, mayhap," said Paris.

"So thought I. Especially when he asked for more time. Any other man would need time to find the gold, but not Abrahams. In my worthy opinion, he needs the time to set up a trap."

Paris struck out for home. He was too deep in thought to notice the beauty of the Border country he rode through today. The questions chased each other across his mind. If Abrahams had suspected him, why hadn't he set the law on him? He must have a plan of his own. Abrahams was in the business of collecting money, not paying it out. It was obvious the gold would be a lure and that Abrahams planned to get the girl without paying the ransom. Paris's blood ran cold each time he thought of Tabby in Abrahams's clutches. How she would recoil in horror if she knew why he wanted her. But he could not soil her young mind with such filth. A deep furrow creased his brow as another chilling thought crowded upon the heels of the others. Why had Abrahams married her in the first place? Why not just buy the maid? The grasping Mrs. Graham had no doubt hinted at the girl's high connections, and Abrahams had married the girl to secure her within the law. A husband's authority took precedence over family. My God, if she did prove to be Magnus's daughter and Abrahams discovered the connection, they were all open to blackmail.

After breakfast, Tabby questioned Alexandria about Anne, but she insisted there wasn't much to tell. "She dislikes everyone in the family and won't have anything to do with us. Mrs. Sinclair is her nurse and takes all her meals up to her."

"But if the poor lady is confined to her bed, she should have visitors to amuse her and someone to read to her. No wonder she dislikes you if you ignore her very existence. I'm not used to being idle all day; perhaps I could be company for her, make myself useful somehow."

"You won't be satisfied until you have seen her for yourself, will you?" asked Alexandria.

"Oh, do you suppose I could?" asked Tab, dying of curiosity. She sympathized with the lady because of her confinement, but also something compelled her to see what sort of woman Paris had married.

"She's not behind locked doors, you know. She's not chained to the bed. We don't pass food through the bars to her, for God's sake!"

"Well, do I just go up and walk in?"

"Of course. If she doesn't want you, she will soon tell you to leave. Her tongue drips more acid than the rest of us put together."

Tabby, prepared to offer compassion to Anne, timidly knocked on the door. A voice that was both musical and husky bade her enter. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this vivid creature propped. up against the white satin pillows. She wore a bright red diaphanous nightgown. Her fingernails and lips were painted to match. A large box of chocolate confections lay open on the white fur cover.

Tabby hesitated. "Good morning, I'm—"

"No need to tell me who you are. You're another of those damned Cockburns. Lord, there must be scores of them. I can tell by the vulgar color of your hair and your big tits! Christ, they're like two ferrets in a sack. What do you want?"

Being accused of being a Cockburn did not surprise Tabby. She had recently come to the same conclusion herself. "I came to see if you would like some company... someone to read to you."

"Liar! You came to see the freak. The one they all whisper about. Well, come closer, get a good look, damn you."

Tabby moved toward the bed, fascinated by Anne. The two women couldn't have been more unlike. Where Tabby was softly curved, Anne was slim to the point of skinniness. Tabby's coloring made her seem vividly alive, whereas Anne's was pale and ethereal. Tabby's mouth was full and sweetly curved, while Anne's mouth was the only unattractive thing about her. Tabby looked younger than her seventeen years, while Anne's worldly air made her seem mature and sophisticated. "Well?" Anne challenged. "What do you see?"

"Your hair really is the color of moonlight," said Tabby simply.

Anne's eyes narrowed. "I'll allow you one compliment, and one criticism."

Tab hesitated, then plunged in, "You have a please-me-or-else mouth."

Anne laughed. It was a hysterical laugh, her eyes, glittering unnaturally. "You have purple eyes— they are quite different. I think I'd like to sketch you. You will sit for me," Anne demanded rather than asked.

Mrs. Sinclair brought a large box of charcoals and pastels to the bed, but Anne waved her away. "Not now, not now. Come back tomorrow." It was an order, not a request. "And don't come empty-handed."

"What would you like?" asked Tabby.

Anne laughed bitterly. "If I told you what I'd like, it would shock your delicate sensibilities, but a bottle of brandy will suffice."

"What an extraordinary woman," commented Tabby when she joined the others.

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