The Suspect's Daughter by Donna Hatch Page B

given her no reason to believe he was attracted to her, and he clearly disliked social gatherings; perhaps he’d changed his mind. Disappointment dimmed her enjoyment.
    But he didn’t seem the kind of man to break his word. She wouldn’t give up on him.
    She glanced back at the doorway. He had arrived. With hair as dark as a starless night, a tall figure clad almost entirely in black strode toward them. Something shifted inside her and she took a step back from his presence of power. As he neared, his air of deadliness swept ahead of him like a giant clearing the path. Piercing gray eyes set in his fearsomely handsome face caught and held her gaze as he drew nearer.
    She chided herself. Grant Amesbury had protected her. Why everything about him seemed so deadly tonight, she couldn’t explain, but she surely had nothing to fear from him. Firmly wearing the role of hostess, she moved to welcome him. He was dressed in beautifully tailored clothing, as fashionable as the clothes he’d worn the night he’d brought home Jonathan. His new haircut and style gave him Town polish.
    “Welcome, Mr. Amesbury.” She sank into a curtsy.
    He inclined his head. “You look lovely.” The words fell awkwardly from his lips as if he’d rehearsed them. She doubted he often paid compliments to anyone.
    “How kind of you to say.”
    He paused and focused on her. Something changed in his expression. He studied her in a way that sent heat from her face clear down to her toes. Oh heavens, if these were the kind of looks he was capable of giving, he clearly was dangerous to ladies, but not in the way she’d thought.
    Her attention zeroed in on his lips, and hers tingled in response. Powerless under his stare, she wrenched her gaze from his and nervously touched her brooch as if to assure herself it remained in place, anything to restore her good sense, which had quite literally failed her for a moment.
    Softly, his voice ringing with sincerity and an unaccountably sultry quality, he said, “You are beautiful.”
    The simple complement, and his delivery of it, dried her mouth. With an expression she could only describe as surprise, he swallowed and took a step back. She moistened her lips and focused on the floor to give herself a moment to compose herself.
    When she raised her gaze to him, Mr. Amesbury’s gaze had shifted to her father as if searching for a valuable bit of information. She’d love to pretend he wondered if her father would approve of him as her suitor, but didn’t dare flatter herself, despite that world-tilting moment that came and went too quickly.
    “Sir.” His greeting carried some hidden meaning, but she was at a loss as to decipher what.
    Her father extended a hand. “It appears I am, once again, in your debt, Mr. Amesbury. Indeed, I can never repay the service you rendered to my daughter and my sister yesterday.”
    Mr. Amesbury took the hand, his features schooled into perfect impassiveness. “I’m glad the outcome was not more serious.”
    “It would have been, if you hadn’t come to their aid. How can I thank you properly?”
    Mr. Amesbury blinked as if unaccustomed to such an outpouring of gratitude. “No need. Their safety is enough. I enjoy administering a bit of justice now and again.”
    The corner of his mouth twitched and an unholy gleam shimmered in the hardness of his eyes. For a fleeting moment, a vision of Grant Amesbury hunting down the criminal who’d attacked her and exacting some form of vengeance upon him flashed through her mind. He was like a rogue knight with his own code of honor and his own methods of justice. But that was a silly fantasy. Men like that lived in the Middle Ages, not in today’s world.
    Papa tilted his head as he regarded Mr. Amesbury. “We are having a house party next week. We’ll have archery and fencing tournaments as well as riding, fishing, shooting. Perhaps a little cricket. We may have a few political discussions as well. We’d be pleased if you’d join