My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(44)
“—nothing but a bastard.”
The room explodes with chatter. Several ladies faint dead away. Cad stands triumphantly, fielding questions from the hangers-on who now surround him, while behind him poor Henrietta sobs quietly—unusual behavior for a young woman who has just discovered she is a legitimate member of the aristocracy. You are at once suspicious but immediately distracted by the sight of an ashen-faced Sir Benedict, now being fully ignored by his former guests. Your heart aches for him despite yourself.
“I am so very sorry,” you say gently. “Did you have any idea prior to this?”
Benedict turns to you, eyes blazing beneath his cold exterior.
“You would do very well to leave this alone.”
“What?” Such a brusque dismissal is shocking, even from him. He stares at you piercingly, and you feel both your hackles rise in anger and your traitorous bosom heave with longing.
“Stay out of it,” he growls. “That is not a request.”
The very nerve of the man, thinking he could boss you around so gruffly! If you wish to give him a piece of your mind, turn to this page.
Or do you storm off in furious silence? The fool will only get in the way, and there is clearly a mystery to solve. If so, turn to this page.
Fortunately, what you see when you enter the decaying entrance hall of Glenblair Castle does much to lighten your mood.
“Colonel Abercrombie!” you cry, relieved at the sight of the older man’s familiar jolly face and white hair.
“Good to see you, lass, good to see you!” he says, hugging you warmly.
“How on earth did you get here so soon?!” you say. “You must have fairly raced here!”
“Och, no mind to that,” he chortles. “How have you and our Captain MacTaggart been faring with the wee monsters? Any news?”
You cannot help but blush at the remembrance of exactly what you and Mac have been doing in Abercrombie’s absence. The colonel raises his eyebrows but says nothing.
“We’ve been well,” you venture at last. “And Jane and Gertie have been a great help, as has Mrs. Ferguson.”
“Och, Mrs. F is a treasure, that’s fer sure!” He pats your shoulder. “Though forgive me for saying, lass, but you seem a wee bit distracted.”
You don’t tell him exactly what has been distracting you, nor how the memory of it has been haunting your dreams these past few nights. But you do take the opportunity to press someone who might well know the full story of exactly what happened to Mac when he was at war.
“Colonel Abercrombie, do you remember anyone by the name of Constantina?”
Two lines appear between Abercrombie’s eyebrows, as he seems to try to recall. “I reckon I do remember a lass by that name. A camp follower when we were stationed in Salamanca. A bonnie young lass, sweet as a rose in bloom.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” you say, desperate to know the source of Mac’s pain. Abercrombie shrugs.
“There I cannot help ye, lass. But war is a rough business, and young ladies disappear all the time, sadly. Though I hope that perhaps she simply moved on and that wherever she is, she is well.”
You are glad to know more, yet something still niggles in the back of your mind. You are about to ask if he ever saw Mac with her when the man in question strolls in, shirtless and sweaty from caber-tossing practice.
“I-I must go!” you splutter to a bewildered Abercrombie and then tear out of the room.
Your mind races. What you need is something to engage it productively. Perhaps it is time to teach the children a thing or two about local Highland flora and fauna.
Alas, the orphans are busy driving Mrs. Ferguson to distraction with their attempts at sword dancing. She throws her hands in the air.
“Och, I’ve seen oxen move with more grace! Once again, now.”
The children laugh uproariously, and you realize you do not have the heart to interrupt them.
So go find something useful to do, girl! Turn to this page.
Lady Evangeline breaks from her sad reverie and signals for you to be silent as death. You have reached your destination—the camp of Delphine St. Croix.
Together, you sneak up to the encampment, which is presumably also the site of the lost temple. Delphine, who is exotically beautiful, with her dark hair, miraculously pale skin despite the blazing desert sun, and arresting catlike eyes, is berating a cringing Fabien. Though she is half his size, you find yourself truly fearing for his well-being.
“You are soft! You fool!” Delphine cries. “You will pay for losing her!” She pulls a pistol on Fabien. Evangeline raises her eyebrows.
“NOW!” Evangeline cries, and the gang charges into the fray. The desert quickly becomes a storm of fighting women, flying sand, and vengeful screaming, and as the epic battle rages, you lose sight of Delphine. Suddenly, you feel a sharp knife dig into your throat and a hand grasp your arm.
“Hello, little putain,” Delphine sneers behind you. “You are coming with me.”
Let’s look at your options:
Do you fight tooth and nail, regardless of the consequences? You will not let this fiend use you as a tool against the woman you love! You will not! Turn to this page.