Miranda Jarrett by The Secrets of Catie Hazard

Author:The Secrets of Catie Hazard
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Catie was scarcely inside the door before Hannah came rushing up to her.

“Oh, mistress, thank the heavens you’ve returned!” she said, her full cheeks quivering. “While you were gone, a man came asking for you.”

“A man?” repeated Catie, still too much under the blissful spell of Anthony’s kiss to think clearly. “What man?”

“A wild, rough man, a sailor by the look of him,” said Hannah, clucking her tongue at the memory. “Not a gentleman at all, and certainly not the sort of man who comes calling on a lady like you, mistress.”

The lovely warm feeling was beginning to break away and scatter, as insubstantial and fleeting as a cloud. “Did this man leave his name?”

“Nay, mistress, he’d leave nothing but his message, saying he’d had it direct from Cap’n Jon himself.”

The warm feeling was quite gone now, and the chill that grasped her heart instead was largely fear. “Do you recall his message, Hannah?”

“Oh, aye, mistress, ‘tis not the sort of message soon forgotten.” The cook swallowed twice and licked her lips to prepare herself. “He said to tell you Cap’n Jon knows everything that you’ve been doing. He was quite particular about that. ‘Jon Sparhawk knows everything that you’ve been doing,’ he said, ‘and now he wants you to remember your little daughter before it’s too late.’ That’s just what he said, mistress. ‘Remember your little daughter.’”

Slowly Catie dropped onto the long kitchen bench. As if she’d ever forget Belinda, or Jon’s threats concerning her safety or the promises, foolish promises, that she’d made to help him.

As if she’d ever forget Anthony…

“He left after that, mistress, just walked out the door without so much as a goodbye or farewell.” Anxiously Hannah twisted her apron in her hands as she searched Catie’s face for reassurance. “You’re not in trouble, mistress, are you? With Cap’n Jon, I mean?

With a groan, Catie closed her eyes, feeling Anthony’s letter, with the handkerchief, rustle against her thigh. “Oh, Hannah,” she said softly. “This time, I’m afraid I am.”

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