The Temptress (Montgomery/Taggert 8)

“What about Lionel?” the stranger asked. “Did you get the little bastard’s name on the papers?”

“Wait a minute, let me close this window. There are too many people living in this house for me to keep up with the whereabouts of all of them.”

Chris pulled back as he shut the window and locked it. Now she was stuck on the roof, with no way to get back inside.

The men stayed in the room an hour—the longest hour of her life. Behind her, she could hear the muffled voices of Owen and the stranger but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She heard drawers slammed, doors creaking open, then shut again, and all the while she could do nothing but stand there and try to keep her skirt from blowing across the window.

When at last the men left the room, Chris immediately tried to open the window but it was firmly locked.

“Now I’ve done it,” she murmured. Whatever excuse could she give for being outside this window? If Owen was stealing from his nephew, it could be quite dangerous to let him know that she was interested in what he was doing in his office.

With a big sigh, she turned back around, and as she did so, she slipped. She managed to catch herself before she actually fell, but she could feel her hand being scraped. Wincing at the pain, she grabbed for the casement ledge and pulled herself up. She was breathing quite hard by the time she reached her perch again, and she stood there, clutching the wood behind her, and was glad for her safety.

She stood there for quite some time, too fearful to move, when, below her, she began to hear sounds. Within minutes, she saw the top poles of a ladder appear, leaning against the roof line. Holding her breath, she watched to see who was coming to her rescue—or to her trial.

The relief she felt when she saw Tynan was great. “How did you know?” she asked.

He put a finger to his lips to silence her, then motioned for her to give him her hand. He led her down the roof of the second story, then guided her feet onto the ladder, his arms always surrounding her as he backed down first.

When they were at last on the ground, she clung to him for a moment. “I was so frightened.”

“You’ll be more frightened if Hamilton finds out you were spying on him,” he said, peeling her arms away from him. “Let’s get out of here before he sees us.”

Chris turned away just in time to see a shadow disappear around the edge of the house. “Ty! Someone was there.”

“It’s only Lionel. He told me where you were. Come on!”

She ran behind him, down a

path she’d not seen before, to a small cottage hidden amid the trees. As Ty hooked the ladder beneath the eaves of the house, she saw blood on the back of his shirt.

“Ty! You’re bleeding.”

“No, you are,” he said, taking her wrist and turning her palm upward, looking at where the skin was scraped away. “Come inside and I’ll clean it and I want you to explain what you were doing on that roof.”

“Listening,” she said as he pulled her inside. The cottage had only one room, half of it kitchen, the other half holding a big double bed. “Is this where you live with Pilar?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said as he held her hand over a basin of water and began to clean it.

“Have you known her long?”

“Years.”

“And she doesn’t ever betray you?”

“I’ve never found out. We’re on the same side. Hold still so I can see this.”

“On the same side?” Chris’s eyes widened. “You mean she’s a lady outlaw?”

“Sure. She can outdraw anybody.”

“Oh. You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

He looked at her as his head was bowed over her hand. “Climbing out the window was pretty stupid of you. If Hamilton had found you—”

“It was worth it. I heard Owen’s visitor asking about Lionel. He said—pardon me, but this is a quote—‘Has the little bastard signed the papers yet?’ Doesn’t that sound as if they’re into something dreadful?”

Ty opened a tin box on a shelf by the fireplace and withdrew clean bandages. “No, it sounds like he’s met Lionel. The kid is a little bastard.”