Curses Are for Cads by Tamara Berry

Author:Tamara Berry [Berry, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-07-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I awake with a roaring headache, a mouth that feels stuffed with cotton wool, and ghostly feline apparitions at my feet.

“Beast?” I blink at the image of my cat sitting at the end of my bed. It’s not unusual for a woman suffering from a head injury to experience blurred vision, but it does seem highly unlikely for that vision to take the shape of a black cat.

Or—wait—two black cats.

“Freddie?” Despite the pain splitting my head in two, I jerk to a seated position. While most black cats look similar to one another, the smaller kitten is unmistakably my own. The white tips on her ears and a small kink at the neat point of her tail could belong to no other. “How is this possible? Am I dead? Are you?”

A low chuckle at my bedside draws my attention. It also pulls my head in that direction, which is a mistake for a lot of reasons, not least of which is that I shouldn’t be making so many sudden movements in my condition.

“Your cats are very much alive, though I’m not ashamed to admit that it was a near-run thing. As it turns out, they don’t much care for air travel. Or for being put forcibly into a crate.” Nicholas extends his arm, his shirtsleeve rolled to expose his sinewy forearm. Several bright red scratches adorn that well-sculpted limb. “The feline temperament leaves much to be desired. I’ve always preferred the simple obedience of a dog.”

These words are calculated to get a reaction out of me, I know. Unfortunately, I find myself unable to rise to the task. Gratitude and the percussive ache of my head are bringing me much too close to tears for that. I reach out and grasp the hand being held out to me instead.

“It’s about time you got here,” I say as I lower myself back to my pillow. A sore spot on the back of my skull throbs in protest. “I can’t believe you abandoned me like this. Actually, I can believe it. That’s the worst part. I should have known better.”

“Oh, dear.” A softer, female voice sounds from the other side of the bed. I’m too weary to turn my neck again, but I recognize it as Sid. “It’s all my fault. I’m so dreadfully sorry, Nicholas. I wouldn’t have had this happen to her for the world. You must believe me.”

“Of course I believe you,” he says, and in a much kinder voice than he used with me. “I should have warned you that Eleanor is prone to getting herself knocked over the head. Something about her compels people to violence. I can’t imagine what it is.”

If I had the energy, I’d lose no time in telling Nicholas that if he continues in this vein, he’s the one in danger of being on the receiving end of violence. As it is, I can only accept the warm, purring bundle he places gently on my lap. Beast would never lower herself to cuddle—and in front of an audience, no less—but Freddie has always been a sweetheart.

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