Touch of Passion by Susan Spencer Paul Page A

thoroughly. But that was what he wanted to do, of course. As he so often reminded her, Kian preferred her anger to her kindness—or her coldness, as he called it.
    â€œYes, I forgot myself, of course,” she said tightly. “For a moment I mistook you for someone else. Dyfed, perhaps.” That did it, as she knew it would. Nothing made him angrier than being compared to Dyfed. The taunting smile on Kian’s face thinned into a straight line. “Forgive me for being so foolish.”
    â€œThat’s better,” he said, his tone filled with scarcely suppressed amusement. “Absent your waspish tongue, I might have mistaken you for someone else, as well. And then here we’d be, two strangers discussing a letter meant for you.”
    The letter. Loris immediately forgot their sparring and gazed down at the object in her hands.
    â€œIs it from the Goodbodys again?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy can’t they leave me in peace?” she said unhappily, beginning to feel sick, as she did whenever she remembered her days at the Red Fox. “It can’t be so very important, can it? They probably want money.”
    â€œSit down and open it,” Kian said, his tone gentler now. “You need to read it this time, Loris.”
    She looked up at him and saw the emotion in his blue eyes before he could hide it. “You know what it is, don’t you?” When he began to look away she reached out and touched his arm, stilling him. “And all those other letters. The ones I threw away. You knew what was in them as well.”
    He stared at her hand, then nodded. When he looked up at her, his expression made her tremble with fear.
    â€œCome and sit,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her to the nearest chair. “You look as if you’re about to faint.” He pulled up another chair and sat beside her, leaning to set a strong, reassuring hand over her trembling ones. “I swore to you long ago that no one would ever harm you again, most especially not the Goodbodys, and regardless what you may feel for me, you know that I hold to my promises.”
    That was true, Loris thought. Kian Seymour was an irritating wretch, but he was an honorable man. And he cared for her. He still believed that she was his
unoliaeth
, regardless of every proof otherwise. He would feel duty-bound to keep her safe.
    â€œOpen the letter,” he murmured, sitting back. “And then we’ll discuss what’s to be done.”
    It took some doing, for her fingers still trembled, but at last she had it opened and unfolded. The handwriting within was difficult to read at best and completely indecipherable at worst.
    â€œIt seems to be from Mr. Goodbody. Or perhaps his wife. I believe she knew how to write. I can’t quite make it out . . . . Is this about my mother?”
    Loris held the missive out to Kian, but he didn’t look at it. He gazed directly at her and answered, “It seems to be.”
    Loris frowned and gave her attention back to the letter. “It says . . . I believe . . . my mother’s . . . What is this word?”
    She held the letter up to him once more. This time he looked, squinted at the word, and replied, “
Family
.”
    â€œFamily?” Loris repeated faintly, and looked at the letter. “My mother’s family is . . . is searching for me?” She lowered the missive to her lap and turned to the man sitting beside her.
    Kian was still regarding her steadily, not in the least surprised. But of course he wouldn’t be. He didn’t need to read the letter to divine by magic what the Goodbodys had written.
    â€œTell me what it means,” she said. “Can this be true?”
    â€œIt is, in a way,” he replied calmly. “A certain gentleman has been seeking his runaway daughter for some years. He had gotten as far as discovering the existence of a woman—your mother—who closely resembled this