Beguiled by Arnette Lamb Read Free Book Online Page A

What if she were hurt again in his defense? He banished the morbid thought and extinguished the lamp. “Nothing, son. Lady Agnes will be our guest”
    Christopher began his prayers, but stopped. “Father?” Poignancy crept into his youthful voice. “Did you and Mother ever come to Whitburn?”
    Edward knew where his son was headed. Christopher understood that his mother was in heaven. After his nightly prayers to God, the lad always spoke to his mother. For some strange reason, he thought his mother could hear him only if he were physically in a place where she had been.
    Edward was relieved to say, “Aye, we stopped here every time we traveled to Edinburgh.”
    â€œGood, for I’ve much to say to her tonight.”
    The old loneliness filled Edward, for he had loved his wife deeply. She and her older sister had died of a shipboard illness after a visit to her family in Boston. Only half a dozen of the crew had survived. The dead had been buried at sea. Hannah had been one year old at the time. Edward had insisted that Elise leave their new daughter with him and Christopher in Glasgow, not for any possessive reasons; Edward had simply thought that Elise deserved a holiday from the cares of motherhood.
    Time had healed the wound and eased the guilt, but the troubles of late had started him to thinking about the past.
    â€œAre you sad, Father?”
    Edward masked his concern. “Not at all. Sleep well.”
    As Edward pulled the door closed and entered his own sleeping chamber, he said a silent prayer, asking God to watch over everyone in the growing Napier household. Things would be better at home in Glasgow; he wouldn’t need to be constantly on alert for assassins.
    Why had someone tried to kill him? He hadn’t the faintest notion. But like a great shadow of doom, the truth of the matter hovered around him.
    Someone wanted him dead, and it frightened him to his soul.
    Mindful of his duty to examine his new patient, he went into the private parlor that separated the four sleeping chambers. The room was empty. The sound of feminine voices drifted from Agnes’s adjoining bedchamber. The door stood ajar, and yellow lamplight poured through the opening. Agnes was telling a story to Hannah, who should have been asleep. Edward had sent the child to bed with the retiring Auntie Loo over an hour ago.
    Hannah’s trilling laughter brightened his mood. Other than hired nannies and an occasional indulgent moment from a visiting noblewoman in Glasgow, his daughter had not often enjoyed female companionship. Loath to interrupt them, he slowed his pace and dawdled in the parlor.
    Feminine articles dotted the room. Hats and cloaks hung by the door. A pair of Agnes’s gloves rested near his traveling pouch. Not in years had he seen his possessions nestled with articles of feminine attire. Oh, his mistress hung his clothing in a special place, but this innocent mingling of personal items reminded him of his life with Elise. A carefree couple, they had often packed up their young son, left the servants at home, and taken off for Carlisle or to a favorite inn near Paisley.
    Hannah had been conceived on a balmy summer night with only the stars as witness. It was odd that he would recall that event now; he hadn’t thought of it in years. Nor had he felt so lonely.
    Desperate to put it aside, he peered inside the adjoining room and froze at the sight of Agnes MacKenzie.
    She sat up in bed, a mountain of pillows at her back, a well-worn copy of Humphry Clinker in her left hand, Hannah fast asleep in her lap. Agnes wore an Oriental robe of red satin, elaborately embroidered with peacocks. Her honey blond hair was braided and draped over her shoulder.
    Her smile gladdened his heart. “Come in,” she whispered.
    His throat grew thick, but he managed to utter the first thought in his mind. “You look . . . different.”
    She closed the book and put it aside. He moved