Page 9 of Redemption

Chapter 2

The moment Rhea slid away from him, Percy missed her soft warmth. His jaw clenched with irritation at the thought. What the hell was wrong with him? The woman hadn’t hesitated to leave him for dead a year ago. In the back of his mind a voice protested his harsh judgement. She’d not done so willingly. He dismissed the thought as sheer fantasy.

Rhea Bennett was a thief. She’d picked more pockets than he’d bedded women. He ignored the voice in his head that objected to the way he’d categorized her. Percy waited patiently for her to look at him. When she did, the horrified look in her eyes was the same now as it had been in the Egyptian exhibit hall a year ago. It eased some of his anger.

For whatever reason, he believed her regret at having left him for dead was sincere. But he couldn’t simply forget why she’d been in the museum in the first place. What had she done with the pendant? There had been no word of the necklace since the burglary. Percy studied Rhea’s profile for a long moment. Her features had been obscured by her mask that night more than a year ago.

But something had registered with him the moment their eyes had met across the ballroom floor. His initial reaction when he’d caught her watching him had been amusement. Whether it was a mother seeking a husband for their offspring, the wide-eyed admiration of an ingénue, or the sultry widow interested in a dalliance, he was well acquainted with the female sex and their behaviors.

But as he had continued to study her from across the expanse of the ballroom, it had been his sudden awareness that Rhea feared him that had startled him. It had been an instinctive knowing that had puzzled him for the briefest of moments before he’d made the connection to the woman in the museum a year ago. It had been the strongest clairvoyant sensation he’d had since the night he was shot. It had been even stronger than the ghosts that had assaulted his senses during his hospital stay. But he’d not trusted his intuition until he’d looked into the deep violet of her eyes when Helen had introduced them. Percy gritted his teeth. One thing was for certain, the woman was distracting him from his purpose. The color of her eyes was irrelevant to the matter at hand.

“I asked you where I can find this man, Ruckley.”

“I don’t know where he is,” she replied without emotion as she turned her head and met his gaze steadily. There wasn’t a trace of deception in those violet depths, but something else flickered there before it was extinguished.

“And if you did know his whereabouts?” His question hung in the air between them for a long moment. With a shake of her head, Rhea looked away.

“I wouldn’t tell you.” The flat response made Percy blow out a breath of exasperation. Again, he wondered why he’d decided not to hand her over to Scotland Yard.

He couldn’t attribute his decision to being blinded by her beauty. Rhea was lovely, but she didn’t resemble the women he usually favored when it came to liaisons. Still, there was something unforgettable about her expressive features. Wisps of dark brown hair had freed themselves from her upswept hair and framed her face in a way that made her look vulnerable. But it was her mouth that captured his imagination. Her full lips were an enticing dark pink. It was a mouth made for kissing. Percy frowned at his fantasizing.

Apprehension shimmered in her eyes as she looked at him again. Percy suddenly realized he didn’t like the idea that she feared him. Surprised and annoyed by the thought, he clenched his jaw. The woman had left him for dead. Yet in true Rockwood fashion, he’d impulsively declared he wouldn’t hand her over to the police.

He didn’t know what to make of his decision. Nor did he understand his need to protect her or convince her that she had nothing to fear from him. Tension flooded his body. What the devil was wrong with him? All he cared about was finding the bastard who’d shot him. The thought almost made him snort out loud in self-disgust. It wasn't just this Ruckley fellow he was interested in. He wanted to know more about Rhea. Despite his instinct telling him she was innocent of any crime where he was concerned, it was still difficult not to eye her with suspicion. He grunted softly.

“Tell me how you came to be at Melton Park. Are you and your aunt planning to steal something from my brother’s house?” He immediately regretted the question.

“No,” she exclaimed vehemently. Anger reminiscent of a mother protecting her young darkened her violet eyes. “My aunt bears no responsibility for my actions or anyone else’s. If not for Aunt Beatrice…”

She wasn’t just afraid. She was in trouble. He knew it with the same certainty he known it that night in the museum. The knowledge became a deep rooted conviction as the an dara sealladh suddenly crashed through him like a raging river. The features of a beefy man with a pock-marked face and bulbous nose filled Percy’s head. Ruckley. He didn’t question how he knew who the man in his vision was. He simply accepted it as fact.

The flashes of insight were chaotic. Images tumbled through his head as if they were pieces of debris tossed violently about in churning waters. He saw Rhea riding across a meadow with tears streaming down her face. The image vanished to become a vivid picture of Rhea dressed in a gown a decade older than current fashions. While another woman distracted a well-dressed gentleman, Rhea picked the man’s pocket.

Just as quickly, another image filled his head of Rhea arguing with Ruckley. A child clung to her skirts as she argued with the man. He couldn’t hear their words, and while her expression was stoic, her posture was filled with defiance, anger, loathing, and fear. The leering expression on Ruckley’s face said the man could read her emotions as well.

In another flash of changing imagery, he saw Rhea comforting a small child while an expression of despair darkened her features as she’d turned toward someone in the shadows. As quickly as the vision came to him they were gone. Most of what he’d seen made little sense, but that was typical of the an dara sealladh. He knew things would sort themselves out sooner or later. But what he’d seen convinced him Rhea’s theft of the pendant was not by choice.

More importantly, his vision had shown him that Rhea wasn’t the person his eyes and personal experience suggested she was. Sorrow and pain were lodged deep inside of her. From the little he’d seen in his visions, her past had taught her to hide her emotions well. The cool, serene expression she’d worn since Helen had introduced them had barely faltered. Yet despite her ability to hide behind that polite mask, it was her eyes that betrayed her.

“Does your aunt know about your past?” His question made Rhea grow still. Her eyes met his for a brief moment before she turned her head away. Her profile was soft and feminine, but revealed nothing of what she was thinking.

“Yes, she knows.”

“But she doesn’t know everything.”

The statement was a stab in the dark. Percy was certain Rhea had done more than pick pockets. When she jerked and looked at him again, he knew he’d struck a nerve. Her violet eyes were as wide now as they had been the night he’d been shot. The moon cast its light on her pale features. The vulnerability he’d seen earlier flitted across her face before it vanished and her expression became devoid of emotion.

“No, she doesn’t know everything. If Aunt Beatrice knew the whole truth it would break her heart. We couldn’t do that to her.”

Shoulders rigid, Rhea stared down at the gazebo floor. His gaze followed hers, and he noted the uneven boards, which had been due to the inexperience of its builders. He and Caleb had built the small structure when they were younger. The memory was a bittersweet one. He missed his older brother. Percy pushed the thought of Caleb’s death aside as he realized Rhea’s response had been in the plural.

“We?” The single word question made her flinch. Rhea glanced in his direction before her gaze focused back on the lopsided flooring. She hesitated for a moment before her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“My sister, Arianna.” Resignation vibrated through her response. It was obvious she’d not meant to reveal she had a sister. When she didn’t expand on her statement, Percy shook his head with exasperation.

“And where is your sister this evening?”

“She’s at home.” The response was clipped and matter-of-fact. Frustration tugged a sigh of irritation from him.