Shadow Play by Katherine Sutcliffe Read Free Book Online

magic. She shrank toward the wall as he stopped before her.
    "Mr. Kane?" she repeated, stunned by his heart-stopping image.
    He smiled. It wasn't an altogether pleasant smile, but his voice remained level. The drawl that she had detected the night before was now more pronounced.
    "Miss St. James."
    "You came."
    "So I did."
    "You're also late."
    "So I am." He smiled again and shrugged. He handed her an orchid whose silken petals were beaded with moisture. "A peace offering," he told her.
    Her cheeks warmed. Accepting the flower, she twirled it in her fingers while she moved away and did her best to collect her thoughts. This could hardly be the same man who had so rudely and indecently accosted her the evening before. Gone was the stubbled beard; the stench of whiskey, cigar smoke, and sweat. The man was immaculate in white linen. The only thing slightly out of place about his appearance was the fringe of black hair spilling over his brow.
    "I'm happy you could join me," she said.
    "So am I."
    "I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. It was inexcusable."
    He leaned against the wall and his suit coat spilled open, exposing a white silk shirt. He gazed out past the banyan leaves to the ocean beyond. The hard smile on his mouth told her that he didn't, not for a moment, accept her apology. "This invitation to dine wouldn't have anything to do with your trying one last time to convince me to go to Japura, would it, Miss St. James?"
    A gust of wind blew in from the sea and drove a swirling cloud of dust across the veranda. It ruffled Sarah's hair, and she shivered. The shiver, however, had more to do with the mesmerizing vision the American made standing half in and half out of the dark than with the breeze. She could not seem to take her eyes off him, and the silly idea occurred to her that she was acting like a woman bewitched. Her mind cried out its shame over her response—what decent woman would feel this way in a man's presence?—but her body was suddenly a stranger to her, frighteningly eager to believe in the tales of this legendary lover, to experience—
    "I must confess, sir, that I had hoped to discuss the matter rationally. I fear that, in the throes of my grief, I acted hastily and unduly harshly during the course of our conversation."
    "Conversation? Was that what it was?" His lips formed a lazy smile. "I've seen two scorpions go at each other with less vehemence, Miss St. James."
    "Yes... well..." She cleared her throat and forced her- self to look away. "If you'll excuse me, I'll check on dinner. In the meantime, shall I have Kan bring you a drink?''
    "Whiskey would be fine."
    Nodding, she quit the veranda, putting the American at a safe distance behind her. She was standing in the hallway staring at the flower in her hand when Kan joined her.
    "Dinner is served," came his voice, dragging her thoughts back to reality.
    "Very well. Please see Mr. Kane to the dining room. I'll join him in a moment.''
    "Is something wrong, Missy?" he asked.
    "No." She shook her head, laughing silently at the lie. When Kan didn't move she faced him again. His eyes were black as jet, his mouth a stern line. "I'm fine—just a little shaky, is all," she assured him with a smile and placed a hand on his arm. Only then did he leave her to get her guest.
    She fled to her father's office.
    Why had she run and closeted herself with her memories when her last hope for survival stood waiting for her on the veranda? Because—dared she admit it?—she felt afraid.
    She was not accustomed to dealing with men like Kane. One look at that dark face and she felt overwhelmed. She was skilled at banter and innocent flirtations with gentlemen of her class, but this American knew nothing of etiquette. He wasn't even gracious enough to pretend he didn't know her reason for inviting him here.
    There must be some other way.
    Again she imagined herself writing her fiance and explaining the circumstances of her father's indebtedness, then again