His Sinful Touch. Candace Camp

think this is your birthday?” She would be twenty-one soon if so—four years younger than himself. It seemed the right age for her.

      She shrugged helplessly. “I wish I knew. Then I’d know two things about me—my age and my first name.”

      “We also know that it’s a nice little piece of jewelry, not extravagant, but I’d wager expensive enough. And given the way you speak and your manner, I would venture to say that you’ve been raised as a gentlewoman.”

      Sabrina grinned. “I fear that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

      “No.” Somewhat reluctantly, Alex handed the locket back to her.

      “Maybe something else would help.” She began to dig in her pockets and pull out various items and set them on the desk: a pocket watch on a chain, a leather pouch that clinked when she set it down, a card, a dainty feminine handkerchief, a torn scrap of paper and, finally, a gold ring.

      Alex felt as if his heart had flipped in his chest. “A wedding ring?” He reached out for the ring. “You’re married?”

      “I don’t know.” She frowned. “I don’t think so. I don’t feel as if I’m married. It was in my pocket. I wasn’t wearing it.”

      He picked up the ring, set with a cluster of diamonds in the shape of a flower. “Perhaps you merely took it off to suit your disguise.” He could sense some sort of strong emotion from the ring, but it was muddled, and the whisper of her presence was faint, not permeating it like the locket she’d worn. It could have come just from her carrying it in her pocket. Adding to the confusion was the sense of someone else. It wasn’t necessarily hers.

      “Maybe.” She was looking at the thing with a certain disfavor, which Alex found made his chest feel lighter.

      He set the ring aside and picked up the handkerchief. It was clearly expensive and feminine. In one corner was an embroidered monogram of a large B mingled with an S and an A. “This S would support your name being Sabrina. A last name beginning with a B.”

      Sabrina nodded. “Yes. But I’ve tried and tried to think of a name beginning with a B that might seem familiar, but none of them do. This is the bag of money.” She opened the pouch to show him the contents.

      Alex raised his eyebrows. “You’re right. That is a good deal of money to be carrying about, especially for a young lady.”

      “It seems suspicious, doesn’t it? A woman dressed as a man, traveling alone, no baggage, carrying a lot of money. I think I must be running away.” She raised troubled eyes to him. “But from what?”

      “Do you feel that you’re running away or is it just the evidence?”

      “Yes.” She paused. “I don’t know. I’m frightened. Coming over here, I felt that I must get here as fast as I could. But maybe that’s because I don’t remember anything about my life. That’s rather terrifying, all on its own, and of course I’d want to find out who I am as quickly as I could.”

      “There are your bruises. Something happened to you.” He was immediately sorry he’d mentioned it, for the fear in her eyes increased. Hastily, he added, “Of course it could have been that you were in a carriage accident.”

      He didn’t believe that for a second. A carriage accident would have involved others, at least a driver. They wouldn’t have let her just wander off, dazed and bruised. Nor did it explain the amount of money she carried or the fact that she had dressed up as a man. It seemed far more likely that someone had hurt her...and could right now be pursuing her. Thank heavens she had come here and wasn’t out wandering around, lost and alone.

      He turned his mind away from that picture and reached for the piece of paper. It was torn across the top, and the rest of it was filled with elegant copperplate handwriting:

      ...do say you’ll come. We shall have the most wonderful time. I am already planning a shopping expedition. My aunt has been so kind as to agree to accompany us.

      This was followed by a detailed description of a hat that the writer had recently purchased, and it ended, as it had begun, in the midst of a sentence.

      “Clearly it’s a letter,” Sabrina said. “But that’s all there is of it. I’ve read it over and over, and I cannot glean anything from it. There’s no salutation, no signature. She doesn’t even say her aunt’s name. I suppose it’s from a friend or a relative, but why wouldn’t I have brought more of it? And why is the page torn in two?”

      Again, the letter held a trace of Sabrina, but he also sensed another person, perhaps more. It could have been handled by several people, for all they knew. What Alex could sense, quite distinctly, bothered him. As soon as he’d touched the paper, he’d felt a brush of anger, even rage...which would fit with the paper being ripped in half.

      He turned to the pocket watch. There was no inscription inside or on the back. It was clearly a man’s; both the style and the feeling that emanated from it told him that. There was also a whiff of emotion—sorrow? He wasn’t sure. But with it, far more than with the ring, Sabrina’s presence clung to it. He thought perhaps she had carried it for a long time.

      A picture of a house flashed through his mind and was gone. Alex froze, his fingers closing around the watch. But across from him, Sabrina said, “What? Did you find something on the watch?”

      “What? Oh, no.” He smiled and shook his head, setting the watch back on the desk. Later, perhaps, when Sabrina was not there to see it, he could hold it longer, concentrate on it harder. There had been something there, he was certain.

      “I don’t think this will be any help,” Sabrina said as she handed him the last item, a card. “A boy in the train station handed it to me. I think it must be some sort of advertisement, though I’m not sure for what. A milliner’s, perhaps?”

      Alex took one glance at the card, and his eyes widened. The piece of paper featured a photograph of two elegantly dressed young women in charming straw hats. They were facing away from the camera. On the other side was printed an address and the words “Come see us from the front.”

      “Uh...no, not a milliner’s.” He cleared his throat, aware that his face was turning red.

      “Oh.” She sounded a little disappointed. “I thought one of the hats was quite attractive.” She peered at him. “What is it? Are you all right?”

      “Yes, yes, of course.” He had the feeling his smile was unnatural. It would certainly fit how he felt at the moment. He tried desperately to think of some way to turn the conversation, but his mind was a blank. Well, not a blank, really, but what was there was completely inappropriate.

      She waited for a moment, then asked, “Then what sort of business is it? I don’t understand.”

      “It’s one that, um, well, isn’t the sort of thing a lady usually receives. It’s a...a man’s sort of, um...”

      Her eyes widened. “You mean it’s a house of ill repute?”

      “Well...yes.”

      “Oh, my.” Her blush was even deeper than his as she snatched the card back and examined it. “They look so...ordinary.” Again she sounded disappointed, so much so that he had to smile. “I thought they would wear something more, well, you know.”

      “Yes, I know.” It was bizarrely titillating to be sitting here talking about bordellos with this girl, all the while remembering how her springing curls had felt beneath his fingertips. The fact that she was dressed as a man somehow only made it more tantalizing. His flush had started from embarrassment, but it was quickly turning into something else altogether. “I believe the intimation is that if one saw them from the other side, they would be more alluring.”

      “Oh. I see.” From the way she was looking at the card, he suspected that she did not, but he refrained from saying so. Sabrina went on, “Have you gotten cards like this, too?”

      “Well, yes, now and then.” He cleared