have
something in place by Friday next for your living arrangements. I'll give you enough money to get a start. If you need a referral I'll write a letter."
She still stood behind the bed, her face waxen, with a silk robe wrapped around her and held tightly in her fists. "Most of Boston knows who you are, and how long our arrangement has lasted. I'm quite certain there will be callers for you as soon as you make our dissolution known."
He walked out the bedroom door and paused. "The only things I
expect to be taken from my alternate residence are any jewelry I've given you. Think of it as a parting gift. You could live off of it for years. And make sure all of your attire is gone. I want no remembrances. You don't
want me saying unflattering things at the club."
Her sobs started as he walked down the stairs and carried through
the house.
"I'll tell everyone the truth about you, how you were a dirt farmer and a street beggar!" she yelled out the top window.
He'd have to remember to have a cleaning service come in and
freshen the place. The brass knob was cold and smooth in his hands as he pulled the door closed.
83
D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH
Chapter Three
"How may I help you, miss?" The bald man looked through his
spectacles and down his nose at her.
"Miss Abigail Drummond to see Mr. Caden Dupree."
"And do you have an appointment?"
"No."
The man sniffed. "And what makes you think Mr. Dupree has a
moment to see you if you've made no appointment?"
Abby resisted the need to pinch the bridge of her nose. She took a
breath and broke out her most dazzling smile. The one that hurt her
cheeks. "Mr…?"
"Frist."
"Mr. Frist." She smiled again, "That suit looks quite dashing on you, really." He looked at her pointedly and she rushed in, "I know that you are an extremely responsible employee of Mr. Dupree's, as I can tell from your diligent care of his appointments." He puffed up the smallest bit and she stole her opportunity, "So, even though I have not informed Mr.
Dupree of my impending visit, I'm sure if you notify him of my arrival
you'll see that he is most welcoming indeed."
Mr. Frist looked her up and down and nodded. "I'll see if he's in.
One moment please."
He left his station to shuffle down an oak paneled hall to knock on a
door, and when he received an answer he opened it up to poke his head
inside.
Her heart started to thud like a tympani in her chest. Making the
decision to come to the bank just near killed her. It was the right thing to do, she knew that, but knowing never made the doing easy. And as angry
as she had been, she still loved having his hand in hers. How he looked
as she stroked his palm suggestively.
That stroke of brilliance had worked in reverse, too. His skin had
been warm and firm and she'd wondered how his hands would have felt
caressing her, as she had him.
84
FORTUNE'S FOOL
Later that night she'd gone back to her own bed, her desire was so
potent. As she lay in bed she'd brought herself to climax fantasizing
about his hands touching her. That it was his hands rubbing her. She
squeezed her thighs together. His personality was so strong it sexually
excited her, but he was harsh, and that made her feel guilty for wanting him. Both emotions together confused her. The enigma was how his
hands told a different story. Maybe something she said provoked his
reaction.
Although she'd been around palm reading all her life, and saw the
many truths of it, she always gave people the benefit of choosing a
different course, and so she'd done with him. He was strong, that was
obvious, but he also had a depth to him that went far beyond the lines
she'd seen in other hands. A large capacity for love and generosity, but hidden. So deep that it might as well have not been not there.
She wanted to learn him. To explore why he made her fell the way
she did. Especially since it was the fantasy of him that made her orgasm so furiously last night.
Now she had to stand in front
something in place by Friday next for your living arrangements. I'll give you enough money to get a start. If you need a referral I'll write a letter."
She still stood behind the bed, her face waxen, with a silk robe wrapped around her and held tightly in her fists. "Most of Boston knows who you are, and how long our arrangement has lasted. I'm quite certain there will be callers for you as soon as you make our dissolution known."
He walked out the bedroom door and paused. "The only things I
expect to be taken from my alternate residence are any jewelry I've given you. Think of it as a parting gift. You could live off of it for years. And make sure all of your attire is gone. I want no remembrances. You don't
want me saying unflattering things at the club."
Her sobs started as he walked down the stairs and carried through
the house.
"I'll tell everyone the truth about you, how you were a dirt farmer and a street beggar!" she yelled out the top window.
He'd have to remember to have a cleaning service come in and
freshen the place. The brass knob was cold and smooth in his hands as he pulled the door closed.
83
D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH
Chapter Three
"How may I help you, miss?" The bald man looked through his
spectacles and down his nose at her.
"Miss Abigail Drummond to see Mr. Caden Dupree."
"And do you have an appointment?"
"No."
The man sniffed. "And what makes you think Mr. Dupree has a
moment to see you if you've made no appointment?"
Abby resisted the need to pinch the bridge of her nose. She took a
breath and broke out her most dazzling smile. The one that hurt her
cheeks. "Mr…?"
"Frist."
"Mr. Frist." She smiled again, "That suit looks quite dashing on you, really." He looked at her pointedly and she rushed in, "I know that you are an extremely responsible employee of Mr. Dupree's, as I can tell from your diligent care of his appointments." He puffed up the smallest bit and she stole her opportunity, "So, even though I have not informed Mr.
Dupree of my impending visit, I'm sure if you notify him of my arrival
you'll see that he is most welcoming indeed."
Mr. Frist looked her up and down and nodded. "I'll see if he's in.
One moment please."
He left his station to shuffle down an oak paneled hall to knock on a
door, and when he received an answer he opened it up to poke his head
inside.
Her heart started to thud like a tympani in her chest. Making the
decision to come to the bank just near killed her. It was the right thing to do, she knew that, but knowing never made the doing easy. And as angry
as she had been, she still loved having his hand in hers. How he looked
as she stroked his palm suggestively.
That stroke of brilliance had worked in reverse, too. His skin had
been warm and firm and she'd wondered how his hands would have felt
caressing her, as she had him.
84
FORTUNE'S FOOL
Later that night she'd gone back to her own bed, her desire was so
potent. As she lay in bed she'd brought herself to climax fantasizing
about his hands touching her. That it was his hands rubbing her. She
squeezed her thighs together. His personality was so strong it sexually
excited her, but he was harsh, and that made her feel guilty for wanting him. Both emotions together confused her. The enigma was how his
hands told a different story. Maybe something she said provoked his
reaction.
Although she'd been around palm reading all her life, and saw the
many truths of it, she always gave people the benefit of choosing a
different course, and so she'd done with him. He was strong, that was
obvious, but he also had a depth to him that went far beyond the lines
she'd seen in other hands. A large capacity for love and generosity, but hidden. So deep that it might as well have not been not there.
She wanted to learn him. To explore why he made her fell the way
she did. Especially since it was the fantasy of him that made her orgasm so furiously last night.
Now she had to stand in front
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