Shades of Truth (The Summerlynn Secrets) (5 page)

“I suppose you want the purse as well?” The sharp edge of my words should have slit his throat.

“Please.” I tossed it to him, knowing his hands were already full. With a soft sound, it made contact with the back of his forearm and fell on top of a scuffed brown boot. I couldn’t help smirking. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” I flattened my mouth to a more suitable, serious expression. “Are you having a bad day?”

“Yesterday hasn’t ended for me.” Both his expression and tone were sour.

“Someone needs a nap.”

“At least I have an excuse for my less than cordial personality.” Wearily, he rotated his shoulders.

“How would I know? I’ve never seen you not tired.” I watched as he looked longingly at the bed. A jolt of sympathy jerked my heart. “What are you waiting for? Take a nap. I’ll be downstairs eating breakfast.”

“No.”

“Why not?” It was obvious the man needed sleep before he did something crazy, like murder me.

His eyes were the darkest blue I’d ever seen when he answered, “I do not trust you to stay.”

Hmm. He was going to be difficult about this. How to reassure him I had every intention of going downstairs for breakfast and then coming straight back? Lying had never been my specialty. “I have no reason to.” Probably not the most intelligent thing to say in this situation.

That caused him to think a moment before replying, “What can I possibly say that will make you stay in the building while I nap?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought so.” Far from looking disappointed, the corner of his full mouth quirked. “Then I shall make it extremely difficult for you to get anywhere without me.” Walking to the bed, he laid the money on the cream colored coverlet.

I watched as he bent to retrieve the purse from the floor and began tucking the money inside. My pulse accelerated and I felt at any moment, he’d find the scrap of paper and demand to know what it meant. But he didn’t, and my breathing smoothed.

“Thank you for sorting my money for me.” Sarcasm was always a favorite of mine.

“Your money?” He raised an eyebrow as he deliberately placed the purse inside his own pocket.

I was instantly incensed. “That’s stealing!”

“Not if you gave it to me, which you clearly did.” Calmly, he widened his stance and inclined his head toward me. “If you don’t like it, come get it.”

I examined the long arc of his shoulders, the bunched muscles in his
arms. Any physical contest between us would be over in a moment. Colton was easily stronger and would fend me off without breaking a sweat. “I can’t.”

“Then it appears you have no choice but to stay with me.” His smile was satisfied.

Since I only needed to go as far as Bottomsleigh Street, I didn’t see the lack of money as problematic. But he didn’t have to know that. “I hate you.”

“I am certain you do.” Taking in my glower, he continued, “Now, why don’t you go and find breakfast? You’ll feel better.”

I snorted. “I highly doubt that.” But I turned to leave anyway.

Colton barely spared me a glance, already climbing into bed. I made a point of slamming the door behind me. At least I had some measure of satisfaction in a morning rapidly approaching nightmarish.

The inn was rather quiet this early in the morning. I soundlessly slipped down the staircase to the entryway and found Mrs. Whitlock on her way down the hall, a steaming bowl of porridge in her hands.

“Mrs. Whitlock?” I asked, following her down the hall.

“Yes, dear?” She opened the last door on the right with a hip, and entered what had to be the dining area. This must be why the rest of the inn was quiet.

The room was furnished with benches and tables, and was quite full already. I spotted roughly dressed tradesmen passing bowls of porridge or plates of pancakes to well-dressed gentry, who then passed the bowls down to a vicar and his family.

My stomach growled. No. I couldn’t stay for breakfast. My time was very limited as Colton could sleep anywhere from twenty minutes to all day.

“Can you direct me to
Bottomsleigh Street?” I neatly dodged a little boy when he ran past screaming, chased by an even younger girl.

“Why, that’s just down the block. I can send a boy there to pick up whatever it is you want and save you the trouble.” Exchanging her full bowl for a few empty ones, Mrs. Whitlock turned to face me.

“No, but thank you. I would like to see some of the town before we leave this afternoon.” I had to keep this conversation as normal as possible, even though Mrs. Whitlock was sure to remark upon it when questioned by Colton once he learned I’d gone. “Which way to do I turn once outside?”

“To the right, dearie. Take a left at the corner and continue down until you see the general store. Turn right at the general store and that’s
Bottomsleigh.” Mrs. Whitlock looked at me. “You might want to take your young man along. Bottomsleigh can be a mite dangerous for a young lady.”

“I shall be fine.” I didn’t know if I was reassuring myself or Mrs. Whitlock. I thought briefly of returning upstairs to wake Colton, but decided against it. If I asked him to accompany me, he’d want to know why. Somehow, I didn’t think telling him I had a long lost cousin living here would do the trick. I certainly couldn’t tell him I was basing my actions on a barely remembered five minute conversation with my father from months ago.

So I would go alone. What could possibly happen to me in broad daylight?

Peering down the street, I decided my decision to come here alone had been the correct one. Though not the best area in town, Bottomsleigh was already full of people going about their daily business. I was nearly run down by a woman with her arms full of blankets when I turned onto the street.

In addition to a general store, the street boasted a tailor, a barber, a tack store, along with a few taverns and what looked to be another inn. Catching a glimpse of the general store’s address (504), I knew I had a ways to go.

As I walked, I paid less attention to the storefronts and more attention to the people. They actually looked quite nice. A youngish man about my age smiled at me before disappearing into the tack store. I must not look like the half crazy wild woman I felt, though I wished I’d at least attempted to smooth my surely windblown appearance.

Finding this address would be easy. Once there, all my questions would be answered. I could handle this. I was only following my father’s instructions. Surely he wouldn’t send his daughter in his stead if it weren’t perfectly safe.

Of course this wouldn’t be the first time my father became oblivious to the dangers involved when it came to getting what he wanted.

But there was nothing to fear. I was surrounded by nice looking people who would surely raise a cry if I were attacked in the middle of the street. Of course, I would have to remain in view, and somehow, I didn’t think my father’s contact would meet with me on the street.

Glancing at the next sign, I saw it read 908. Progress was being made. My gaze snagged on a cart full of apples, and my stomach growled to remind me my last meal was lunch yesterday. On the verge of stopping to buy one, I remembered Colton had my money.

Even though he wasn’t there, I made a face. What right had he to take my money? Obviously my father intended me to return to Bolien after meeting with his contact. Raking my memory, I attempted to remember the rest of the conversation when he told me he might one day need me to deliver a message.

I know it had something to do with the pendant I now wore. I couldn‘t remember if I was supposed to give it to his contact or simply show it around. I sighed. Life would be so much easier if my father was a tiny bit less secretive. Well, there was nothing to do but do as my father said and meet his contact.

When I did finally find 1324, I had nearly convinced myself this would be easy. It even looked harmless. Housing a very busy bakery, people were in, out and around the store. If I were to be murdered or even threatened, someone would hear it.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the bakery. The smell of yeast blended with the familiar scent of too many people in too small a space. To even get into the store, I had to squeeze between a woman reaching for a loaf on a high shelf and a man offering to give her a boost.

Loaves of freshly baked bread lined each and every shelf in the store. As soon as a loaf was grabbed, another appeared. Either the store had automatically refilling shelves or the owners were really, really good.

“May I help you?”

At the sound of the voice, I jumped. I turned to find a sweet faced lady a decade older than I regarding me. She certainly didn’t look mean or ugly enough to be involved in any kind of shady business.

“Yes, actually. My father sent me to meet with someone, only I do not remember the name of the man I am supposed to meet.” I widened my eyes innocently and attempted to look slightly scatterbrained.

The woman’s forehead creased. “Did it start with a B? We have a Brad and a Beau working here.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged my shoulders helplessly.

“Perhaps if you tell me what this is about, I can help you.”

“I don’t even know that.” I sighed. “Father got it in his head that I had to be the one to come here, and I certainly don’t make it a habit to buy bread. I never have before. I am not even certain this is the correct address.” I hoped my voice was suitably spoiled sounding. If the lady thought I was nothing more than a fluff head, she might let slip some crucial detail. Although I wouldn’t know a crucial detail if it announced itself.

“Who is your father?”

I didn’t think it would hurt to tell her my father’s name. “Michael Summerlynn.”

The lady’s hazel eyes widened in surprise. “Follow me.” Expertly threading her way through the crowd, I followed her all the way to the back of the store. We reached a shelf with bread where she selected a sort of wheat bread. “Knock on that door. You’ll need this.” Indicating the door nearly hidden beneath the staircase, she left me.

“Thank you.” The bread was warm in my suddenly cold hand. What was behind the roughly hewn door whose unfinished edges spoke of carelessness? Well, if I were threatened, I could always defend myself with the bread.

Lifting my free hand, I knocked firmly on the door.

“Yes?” The door cracked open a scant inch. The voice was masculine, but was absent of other defining characteristics.

I shoved the bread toward the voice. “I have bread.”

“What kind?”

Dubiously, I regarded the speckled bread. “Rye?”

The door suddenly opened the entire way, and a man stepped back to allow me entry. I got no more than an impression of rather sharp features topped by black hair before I was tugged through and the door closed behind me.

So much for staying in view.

I took a moment to glance about the room. Paneled in a dark wood, the room extended nearly the length of the bakery. The far corners were in shadow, the drapes being drawn against the morning light. A few lamps were the sole source of light, illuminating a pair of matching green armchairs, a large desk and two bookcases.

Hardly the ideal place to plot whatever it is my father is plotting. If anything. Colton could simply be suspicious and a liar. The two normally went together.

“You have something for me.” The man reclaimed my attention. Older than I thought, he still appeared vigorous enough to murder me if he so chose. His arms were thick cords of muscles, his shoulders wide and sturdy. His eyes were a murky brown, his features nondescript. Once I left (if ever) I would not remember what he looked like.

“I already gave you the bread.” I could always announce I had no idea why I was here or what I was to give him, but something told me not to. Until I had an idea of what was going on and what exactly my pendant meant, it wouldn’t do to appear ignorant.

“Please. Summerlynn never comes without gifts.” The slight hesitation before the word gifts alerted me to the fact he meant to say something else before changing his mind.

“How do you know it is Summerlynn who sent me?”

“The bread.” At my look of surprise, he smirked. “So you do not know as much as you would have me think. What do you know?”

I raised my chin. “I am a Summerlynn. That is answer enough.”

After giving me an all-encompassing glare, he replied, “Of course. Your father?”

Perhaps I should test the waters. “Will not be coming.”

“Ah.” Something seemed to click for the man. “We have been expecting word from him. I had no idea he would send his daughter.”

I didn’t like the way his voice gave special emphasis to the word daughter. I suddenly had a really bad feeling about this entire situation. I shouldn’t be here, or at least I shouldn’t be here without Colton. With him, I’d have a semblance of protection.

“May I have it?”

“Pardon?” I didn’t see why I should tell him about the letter, the pendant or the escort I’d gained however unwillingly.

“Come now, Miss Summerlynn. Did he not send you with a pretty necklace? May I see it?”

How did he know about the pendant? My hand flew to cover it beneath the neckline of my gown.