Harlequin Historical January 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Forbidden Jewel of India\Rebel with a Cause\Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager by Louise Allen

Author:Louise Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

By noon the following day, fog continued to lick at Missy’s window. She tapped her fingernail against the glass.

Zane had assured her that watching the bank was crucial since Wage was certain to scout the area before committing his crime.

Crucial but tedious. She had worn her vision out staring at the foggy street while Zane lurked behind buildings and haunted dark corners of saloons.

Surely she could be of more benefit lying in wait near the bank doors than she could be in this room, watching like a sleepy-eyed owl unable to resist a fit of yawning. All she needed was a suit of feathers to make the look complete.

Besides, she had things to do. Muff needed a trim. Who was to say that she wouldn’t meet the wily bank robber in the mercantile while she purchased a pair of scissors?

She had promised herself to send a wire to her family. Even bank robbers visited Western Union.

One never knew! It was certain that the criminal would not come knocking at her hotel door.

Zane would not be pleased if she went out. He had given a stiff-as-starch order. She was to sit at the window and watch.

He must realize by now that she was not good at sitting and even worse at obeying orders. Chances are he never really expected her to stay in the room, anyway.

Missy bounded from the wing chair. She plucked her feathered hat from its peg by the door and secured it with a long pearl-tipped pin.

If she didn’t locate Wage, she would simply come back to the room, take up her boring position beside the window and Zane would never know the difference.

If she found the thief, he would be so pleased that he wouldn’t care.

“Be a good boy, Muff, and I’ll bring you a rawhide strip to chew on,” Missy said, closing the door behind her.

Filled with a fine sense of adventure, she fairly flew over the hall carpet and floated down the staircase. Owls, after all, had wings as well as eyes!

* * *

Out on the boardwalk, Missy curled her chilly fingers deep into the pockets of her blue gingham skirt. Clearly, this town was cursed with perpetual fog. During the time that she had been here, not even a tickle of sunshine had pierced the gloom. It was no wonder that the folks she had encountered this last hour had greeted her with frowns.

Earlier, looking out of her bedroom window, she hadn’t guessed how cold it would be without a coat. Fog gathered in doorways and whirled in milky swirls about lampposts left burning, even during the day. It penetrated her dress and made her feel as damp as a workday sponge. The jaunty feather on her bonnet sagged with pearls of moisture clinging to its tip.

The misery would have been worthwhile, worthy even of a full chapter in her journal, if she had caught a glimpse of Wesley Wage. But the only thing that hiding in an alcove for forty minutes and staring at the bank door had earned was a chill that made her bones clatter.

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