Storm of Shadows by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page A

the microscope. “So you’re not oblivious.”

    “Of course not,” she huffed. What kind of comment was that? “I am a woman.”

    “I’m glad you’ve realized that, at least.” She thought he was going to end on an insult, but in a cool, conversational tone, he said, “I was abandoned as a baby, and adopted by a single father. He was the chief of our . . . his tribe. There were only a few of the Bear Creek left in the world, and fewer still living a traditional life.”

    She heard the delicate way he distanced himself from the tribe. “You aren’t Bear Creek?”

    “No. I’m American Indian, obviously, but my father’s tribe knew I was not one of them, and no one ever came looking for me or my mother.”

    “Do you know what happened to your mother?”

    “After she gave birth to me, she flung herself off a cliff.”

    Rosamund sucked in a breath, so shocked she didn’t have words to speak.

    “My foster father’s tribe lived in the mountains in Idaho, in circumstances so poverty-stricken they were hanging on by their toenails, so when he died they wandered off toward a less difficult lifestyle.”

    With the curiosity that made her the premier researcher of ancient manuscripts, she asked, “What did you do?”

    “I learned to take care of myself.”

    “How old were you?”

    “Fourteen.”

    Note to self—don’t whine to Aaron Eagle about my upbringing.

    “Did you go into a foster home?” she asked.

    “No, I stayed in the mountains.” He led them into the Temperate Zone exhibit, stopped and looked at the swan geese. “It was a good way to learn what it takes to survive.”

    “But what about high school? What about college?” She couldn’t imagine a life without classes.

    “I didn’t graduate.” One of the huge geese lifted its head and looked at Aaron, then rose and paced toward him.

    “From college, you mean.”

    “From high school.”

    Lifting itself on its toes, the goose spread its wings wide and flung itself at Aaron, honking wildly.

    Rosamund took an involuntary step backward. “What is he doing?”

    “Challenging me.” Aaron bowed his head to the imprisoned bird, and backed away as if in respect.

    He understood the wild, captive bird far too well. He yielded dominance far too gracefully.

    She didn’t understand him, but if she simply did a little more research into his background, she would comprehend his inner workings. Once that occurred, he would cease to be interesting to her. “So at the age of fourteen you dropped out of society, disappeared into the American wilderness, survived by yourself for . . . ?”

    “Five years.”

    “And when you came out, you were”—she waved a hand up and down his well-groomed self—“this?”

    He adjusted his already perfect tie. “ This is who I am.”

    He had intrigued her, given her something to ponder . . . about him. No matter what he claimed, the parts of Aaron Eagle did not add up to the image he so successfully projected. She needed to decide what she thought about wandering around New York City with a stranger and an enigma.

    Taking her arm, he led her through the garden to the sea lion pool. The railing was lined with people. The sea lions were barking in anticipation of a feeding. The people were talking and pointing and barking back. Aaron stopped Rosamund a few feet away, and in a voice pitched to reach her ears only, he asked, “You said your father texted you. What did he say?”

    Rosamund looked around at the crowd. “You brought me here so if someone is listening, they won’t hear what we say.”

    “If someone is listening with the right kind of equipment, it will filter out the background noise and we would have no secrets.” He smiled, a slash of amusement. “But I doubt if anyone is that interested in us.”

    She hoped he was right, because his words sent a chill up her spine.

    “What did your father say?” Aaron asked again.

    “The text said, ‘You were right, Elizabeth . ’