Free A Seduction at Christmas by Cathy Maxwell

her side.
    She wore a simple plain blue wool dress, the clothing of a shop girl, and yet carried herself with the air of a queen.
    His Oracle.
    Memory returned with a vengeance. The details were still murky but he remembered her …and the potion she’d poured into his drink. After that, events were unclear. All he remembered was being violently ill.
    She was just as lovely as he remembered, although this morning, her eyes were tired. He almost felt sorry for her until she said in her crisp accent, “You are my prisoner, Your Grace.”
    “That is one of the most ridiculous statementsI’ve ever heard anyone make,” he replied. “Now come untie me.”
    “I can’t,” she answered.
    “You can,” he said.
    “You threatened to harm me—”
    “I’m certain with good reason,” he cut in. He didn’t have patience. He needed a pint, or a little cider to take the edge off the morning. “Now, untie these knots and fetch me something to drink. Then, we can reminisce about last night.” Before she could respond, a wild, almost dreamlike thought struck him. “Did we really have Irishmen shooting at us…or was I having a bad dream?”
    “They weren’t shooting at us. They were shooting at you. They had other plans for me.”
    “Did I shoot back?” he wanted to know, the haze starting to lift from his memory.
    “Yes, you did.”
    Now he remembered all. “I merely wounded the man. I’d wanted him dead. They shot Hester Bowen. They were aiming at me and they shot her.” He frowned at the young woman. “Your name is Fiona.” He caressed the word, giving it three distinct, flowing syllables.
    She nodded, watching him warily as if she hid a secret.
    He plowed on, trying to make sense of it all. “Hester didn’t deserve that. I wish I’d killed theman. Those small pistols aren’t always reliable when you are aiming at a man while in a moving coach.”
    Her head tilted in surprise. “Do you shoot people often?”
    “Only when necessary,” he answered enjoying the response. He relaxed and took a moment to give her a good look over. Drunk or sober, she was a beauty. And being tied up was rather intriguing…
    “I thought I was waiting for Andres Ramigio,” he said, “but you arrived instead. And you thought you were to meet Belkins.”
    “Who told you the Spaniard would be there,” she answered.
    Nick looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “There’s a mystery here,” he said, speaking more to himself than Fiona. “But why? It doesn’t make sense.”
    She took a step closer to the bed. “Hester wanted to teach Lord Belkins a lesson. He’d jilted her without offering a parting gift. So she sent him a note from Annie Jenkins arranging a private supper at the Swan.”
    “Who is Annie Jenkins?”
    “She is my neighbor,” Fiona said. “But she eloped yesterday morning and asked me to go in her place.”
    “And why would you do that?” Nick wanted toknow, searching for anything that made sense out of last night.
    “Hester was going to pay me twenty pounds.”
    “Ah, yes, money .” Nick remembered his coin purse. “Isn’t that the reason for everything?” He took in her body, noting all the assets that a woman could use to make money, and felt disappointment.
    He’d wanted her to be better than that. She wasn’t. “Twenty pounds seems a pittance to what a woman like you could earn.”
    Indignation brought color to her cheeks and a flash of fire to her brown eyes. “I’m not a whore.”
    “Of course you aren’t,” Nick agreed briskly. “Neither is Hester Bowen or any of her friends. And I’m practically ready for sainthood.” He smiled, his lips twisting cynically. “I don’t know why I’m irritated with you. You are nothing but a pawn in this game. A beautiful plaything who can be bought for twenty pounds.”
    Her hands formed fists at her side. “How dare you insult me?”
    He laughed, the sound bitter. “You insulted yourself for twenty pounds. Now, untie me and let’s be done with