The Spy Wore Silk (Mrs. Merlin’s Academy for Extraordinary Young Ladies Book 1) by Andrea Pickens

Author:Andrea Pickens [Pickens, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2025-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

She was hiding something

Kirtland was sure of it. He raised the brandy to his lips and threw it back in one gulp, ignoring the singe of its liquid fire.

Everyone had secrets, including himself. He had never spoken to anyone, not even Osborne, about the terrible conflict of his childhood years. Yet somehow she had sensed his pain. A highstrung mother, an abusive father, a wild punch that had finally put an end to the fighting. Her fall down the stairs had been ruled an accident, brought on by too much wine, but he knew the truth. He had avoided any contact with his father after that. When the old earl died a few years later, he had not grieved.

His jaw clenched. In at least one thing, the lady had lied—she was a merlin, a mystical magician with the power to draw the darkest secrets from a man’s heart.

Had she told him the truth about her reasons for being at Marquand Castle? Unless his intuition had entirely deserted him, he felt he could believe at least part of her tale.

But maybe it was his body and not his brain that wished to think her innocent of mercenary intentions. A heroine out of a chanson de geste rather than an accomplice in a scheme for profit? The thought of her being here to avenge a wrong was rather . . . romantic.

Bloody hell. On recalling Osborne’s teasing about being a knight in shining armor he chided himself for a fool. And yet, he couldn’t help feeling a little bit protective. The Black Dove was clearly a hardened woman, unafraid of any man. So why did he sense that beneath all her armor there was something other than steely self-interest? Was it mere illusion to think that they might be . . . kindred spirits?

Cursing again, Kirtland took up the decanter and refilled his glass. That, too, he downed in a single swallow. Then followed it with another.

He rarely drank to excess. But the explosive encounter with the Black Dove had left him in a strange mood. He had not lingered over the after supper port and cigars with the other gentlemen, but had retreated to his bedchamber to brood over his brandy in solitude.

Lies. Lust. Fraternizing with this particular enemy was fraught with perils. He better have a care that he was not seduced by his own shift in strategy.

There was only a drop or two left of the spirits. He could either seek oblivion in a fresh bottle or clear his head with a midnight ride through the moors. His mouth twitched in a tight-lipped smile as he savored the irony of the idea. Perhaps he would encounter one of Devon’s legendary druids—a magician who might conjure up a counter spell to release him from the merlin’s talons.

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