Page 76 of Cross My Heart

I whirl around, striking blindly, clawing at him. But with a single hard fist to my stomach, he sends me careening to the ground.

Fuck. The pain blossoms behind my ribcage and I gasp for air.

“Back the fuck off,” my attacker growls from behind the mask. “Stop asking questions about Blackthorn—or you’ll be sorry.”

He looms above me, and I instinctively curl up in a ball, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the killer blow.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a rush of footsteps, and then someone arrives, panting.

“Hey, are you OK?”

I open my eyes. An older couple is leaning over me, concerned. “I… He was…” I gasp, still winded. I look around, but there’s no sign of my attacker.

He’s gone.

Chapter20

Saint

“More tea?”

“I think we’re covered, mother,” I say dryly, eying the table already covered in a full tea set and various scones and sandwiches. “But I would like a glass of whiskey, when you get a moment, thanks,” I tell the waiter.

My mother waits until he’s departed before tutting at me disapprovingly. “It’s not even noon, Anthony.”

“Well, I figure I’ll need it for this little get-together.” I look around the fussy, upscale hotel dining room she summoned me to. “What’s on the agenda today?” I ask, sitting back and getting comfortable for what’s sure to be an unpleasant hour. “The usual, ‘It’s time you gave up this life of wanton debauchery and accepted your familial responsibilities?’ It’s a classic, to be sure,” I add. “But getting rather old, don’t you think?”

“I do.” Lillian St. Clair presses her lips together. She’s immaculately dressed in pale blue Chanel, with the Ashford family sapphires glittering at her earlobes. “But that’s not why I invited you here today.”

“Intriguing,” I say, sampling some of the tiny pastries. “I’m all ears.”

My mother sighs. “I do care about you,” she says, sipping her tea. “I’m interested in what you’re doing with your time. How are things at Oxford?”

“Fine,” I reply, not believing for a moment that simple affection and curiosity is what’s behind this lunch. My mother always has an ulterior motive. “Nothing new to report.”

“And your book,” she continues. “I heard your publisher wants a follow-up?”

I nod around a cream puff. “I’m thinking over some ideas, but I’m not sure I want to do another. Deadlines… Pressure… It’s not really my kind of thing.”

“It was lovely seeing you at the Lancaster party,” she says evenly. “Thank you for making an appearance.”

“I was told it was mandatory.”

“When has that ever made a difference?” Lillian says with a wry smile, and I smile back.

“True.”

My mother takes another sip of tea. “And that Tessa girl seems… Lovely.”

I look up and catch the curl of distaste on her patrician face.

“Oh,” I say flatly. “So that’s what this is about.”

“It’s notaboutanything. Can’t a mother want to know more about her son’s life?” she asks. “And the people he’s sharing it with?”

“You didn’t seem that interested to know more about Tessa at the party,” I point out, feeling a flicker of tension. I should have known this was coming from the moment they crossed paths. I usually keep my romantic exploits far away from my family, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of having Tessa with me to dull the sting of yet another society party.

And she did. God, the sight of her spread naked in the moonlight in the middle of the maze will haunt my dreams forever.

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