The Lost - J. D. Robb [113]
She looked over to see Aidan stifling a yawn. “Oh, here I am prattling on about all this foolishness when you’re probably dead on your feet.” The girl removed a robe from the closet before drawing back the elegant comforter to reveal snowy sheets. “I’ll leave you alone now and let you get some sleep. I’ll see that you’re awake with plenty of time to dress for dinner.”
“Thank you for everything, Charity.”
The girl left, closing the door behind her. A moment later Aidan heard the parlor doors close.
Slipping out of her denims and sweater, Aidan picked up the robe. It was soft as a whisper. A look at the label confirmed that it was cashmere. With a sigh, she slid it on and sashed it before walking barefoot to the window to stare down at the scene below. All around were acres of rich green lawn, studded with rose gardens, statuary, wildlife. A garden of paradise.
It all seemed too good to be true.
Wasn’t there always a snake in paradise?
She climbed into bed, hoping she could turn off her thoughts and just relax. But she kept thinking about all the things she’d learned. A rich old man who lived here all alone, and believed her mother to be his long-l ost daughter. That would make him her grandfather.
Of course it wasn’t possible. But what if . . . ?
And then there was Ross Delaney, the mystery man. When they’d first met, he’d been studying her much too carefully. If any other man had looked at her like that, she’d have felt violated. But there was no denying that she’d felt something very different in his presence.
She’d sensed his curiosity and something more. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it an instant attraction.
The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. The old man treats him like a son.
He was probably just curious about her, and protecting his turf. Not that it mattered. Once she and Cullen Glin had their meeting, she would be on her way home, with a fat check that would, hopefully, cover the worst of her debts.
Clinging to that thought, she drifted into sleep.
“Miss O’Mara.”
The thick brogue penetrated Aidan’s consciousness and she opened her eyes to see Charity standing beside the bed.
She sat up, feeling as though she’d been drugged. Sluggish and vaguely disoriented. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Only an hour or so. Bridget sent me to fetch you. It’s six o’clock. She said dinner will be at seven.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you need help? I could run your bath.”
“Thanks, but I believe I’ll just grab a quick shower. How will I find the dining room?”
“No need to worry.” Charity lowered her voice for dramatic emphasis. “Ross Delaney himself will be up shortly, to take you there.”
“Up here?” Aidan glanced around.
“Not here. Next door, in the parlor.”
“Oh.” She shared a laugh with the girl. “All right. I guess I’d better get ready so I don’t keep him waiting.”
As soon as Charity was gone, Aidan hurried to the shower. Half an hour later, with her dark hair freshly dried, falling long and straight to her shoulders, and her makeup applied, she stood before the open closet doors, trying to decide on the appropriate attire. She’d overpacked for a single night, but she hadn’t been certain just what would be expected of her. And, of course, there was the fickle Irish weather to contend with. After much dithering, she’d brought one of her old business suits, a dress that she thought would work for warm or cool weather, as well as the comfortable denims and sweater she’d worn on the flight.
Since they would be eating here, she didn’t need to worry about the weather. She settled on her one dress, of aqua silk with a slim, straight skirt, square neckline and long sleeves. She added her grandmother’s small pearl earrings and a pair of strappy high-h eeled sandals.
With a last glance at