Elisabeth Fairchild by Captian Cupid Read Free Book Online Page A

had allowed him to save a life instead of taking it. That she had renewed within him a lust for living.
    The fair-haired child jumped up and down with ill-contained excitement as they approached, worry painting features that reminded him of Miss Foster’s: same breadth of forehead and blue eyes. Same snip of a nose.
    “I stayed,” she said breathlessly, fingers worrying the chain about her neck. “Right here. Even when you slipped, just like Emma. I thought you would fall.”
    “Indeed, so did I, my dear. This is Mr. Alexander, who saved me.” She turned to him at last, her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Mr. Alexander, this is Felicity.”
    “Felicity Foster.” She curtsied with all the grace of a well-schooled five year old.
    He bowed, eyes fixed on the flash of gold at her neck; a locket, heart-shaped.
    Foster? What relation, he wondered. Val made no mention of a child, only of just such a locket, given to Penny Foster on a night of shared passion.
    “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “You may call me Shel, as my sisters do, or Cupid, as does the whole of my regiment.”
    The younger Miss Foster looked uncertainly at the elder.
    “You may do as you wish, my dear,” she said.
    “Is it true, Cupid?” The girl lifted her face to him. “You must give Penny a Valentine?”
    Penny, not mama. Was the child not hers?
    “Felicity.” Mild reproof in the elder Miss Foster’s tone, a motherly sound.
    Alexander knelt to study the girl, seeking definitive proof of her parentage in her pretty little face. “Can you tell me what Valentine Penny wants?” he asked.
    “No, she cannot,” Miss Foster said decisively.
    “A pity.” He rose. “I do not like to remain indebted. People might get the mistaken impression I’ve no intention of honoring my commitments.”
    Miss Foster bit her luscious lower lip. He did not like to see it thus abused.
    “The small matter of this Valentine does not matter, Mr. Shelbourne,” she murmured.
    “I beg to differ.” Still he studied the child, considering the curl of ashen curls, like Val’s. Not like Miss Foster’s. “Small things can make all of the difference in the world. If they are misunderstood, misrepresented, or confused, mistaken assumptions follow. I have known lives to be lost, for less.”
    She regarded him a moment with the uniquely amethyst colored eyes.
    The chid’s were blue.
     “In some instances, “ she said “perhaps you are right. In this case, you make too much of it, sir.”
    “Do I? I am not convinced. You see, in the small matter of my name just such a misunderstanding might arise. You call me Mr. Shelbourne, rather than the more familiar, Shel, or Cupid. One might think you mean to distance me.”
    “One might,” she agreed.
    “I’m hungry,” the little girl complained.
    “Come, then. We shall go.” She meant to abandon him. She took Felicity’s hand and set off briskly along the path.
    “I’ve food enough for the three of us.” He hoped to stop her, wanting to spend more time in her company.
    The child paused, looked back, only to be yanked into motion again by Miss Foster’s steady progress.
    “But, I’m thirsty . . .”
    “We thank you, Mr. Shelbourne,” Miss Foster said stiffly. “But I fear we must decline your kind offer. We mean to visit the nearest inn.”
    “That is miles away,” he protested.
    “Miles?” A whine in earnest. The child’s discontent became his ally. He did not hesitate to use it.
    “A half hour, at best, before you find such a place.”
    “Is it so far?” The child sounded pitiably forlorn.
    “A half hour is nothing,” Miss Foster bolstered the girl’s flagging patience.
    “And another half hour before the food is served.” He played devil’s advocate.
    Her pace did not slow. She shook her head. “I do not think . . .”
    “It really requires no thought.” He had no intention of allowing her to leave. “You could relax beside the lake and feed the child.”
    “I’m thir-rr-sty,”