The Wild Child by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online

decided to lick, not bite. A tom your size could do serious damage. Would you like some catmint of your own?”
    “Meo-o-o-ow.” The cat butted his hand.
    Taking that as a yes, Dominic went down on one knee and pinched off half a dozen leaves, then crushed them into an aromatic ball and tossed it past the cat. The tom leaped on the catmint with a hunting cry, somersaulting over the path as he shredded the leaves with wicked claws. Then he slashed at the catmint plant itself, demonstrating why the shape was so irregular.
    Dominic was about to rise when he glanced up and saw a young woman enter the far end of the garden. Lady Meriel had returned, perhaps drawn by the yowling cat.
    He caught his breath, stunned. Gods above, why had no one told him she was beautiful? Petite and graceful, with features as delicately molded as a porcelain doll, Lady Meriel seemed to have stepped from a Renaissance painting, or perhaps the land of Faerie. Ivory pale hair was pulled back into a wrist-thick braid, and her gaze seemed fixed on visions invisible to the normal run of humankind. Then she saw him. Her eyes widened with shock before she whirled and bolted from the herb garden like a deer, bare feet flying as she darted back through the opening in the hedge through which she’d come.
    “Wait!” He scrambled to his feet and raced after her, but by the time he reached the hedge she’d vanished into an area carefully designed to imitate wilderness. The brick path changed to shredded bark and split into three forks in front of him. He was about to choose one when he realized that pursuit was a damned poor idea if he wanted to win the trust of a shy, wary girl.
    Shaken, he returned to the herb garden and sank onto a stone bench set against the encircling hedge. His pulse was pounding, and not from sprinting a few yards. Now that he’d seen her, he understood why Kyle was willing to overlook Lady Meriel’s mental state. Merciful heaven, but she was lovely, with a fey, ethereal beauty that could entrance any man. He’d seen hair of such fairness only once before, on an exquisite Norwegian courtesan whose price had been well beyond his purse. He tried to reconstruct her image from that fleeting glimpse.
    What color were her eyes? Light, but dark enough to add definition to that small, perfect face. She wore a simple blue tunic over a full skirt in a darker shade of blue. A sash was tied around her waist, rather like Kamal’s sash. Was her garb Indian? Perhaps, or it could have been modeled on medieval peasant clothing. The costume gave her an otherworldly quality, as if she belonged to no particular time or place. As his breathing steadied, he asked himself why beauty made so much difference. Lady Meriel Grahame’s sad past and stunted life would be equally tragic if she were ugly as a hedgehog, yet the fact that she was beautiful deepened his regret almost unbearably. Wryly he acknowledged that he must be very shallow. Even knowing that, he could not stop himself from being moved by the memory of her fair, haunting face.
    The cure for mystery was familiarity, becoming accustomed to her striking appearance. But how could he manage that when she fled at the sight of him?
    Exhausted from his intoxicated bout with the catmint, the orange cat leaped onto the bench and sprawled heavily across Dominic’s lap. He stroked the sleek fur. He’d always had a gift for getting along with animals. His ability to ride even the wildest horses was legendary, and dogs and cats generally climbed all over him, as this one was doing. Surely he could also soothe a wild girl. A day and a half passed without another sighting of Dominic’s elusive quarry. To fill in some of the idle hours, he borrowed a set of estate maps Mrs. Marks found for him. After studying the layout of the various gardens, he drew a rough map small enough to carry with him, but it didn’t bring him any closer to Lady Meriel.
    As boredom set in, it occurred to Dominic that animal traps