Free Country Flirt by Joan Smith Page A

emanation?” she asked.
    “That I did, my dear. It shook me to the core.”
    “I have never felt such a strong emanation before. I believe our spirits are in tune. I shall begin the reading now.”
    She drew her index finger along the first line of his palm. “Ah, look at the length of the life line. You will live to ninety, Lord Howard.” She continued with many portents of success and good fortune. “I have never seen such a large mount of the Sun! Success, intelligence, audacity.”
    “I can’t deny the success at any rate. As to the audacity —” He laughed and tried to slip his arm around her waist.
    Without a word or even a glance of rebuke, she removed the offending arm and proceeded with her reading. The mounts of Jupiter and Saturn and Mercury were all positive, but the mount that Lord Howard was interested in was unmentioned.
    “What of my love life?” he asked archly. “The mount of Venus —you have not mentioned it.”
    “That, too, is satisfactory. I see love there, charity.” Yet these virtues caused her lips to droop sadly. “Alas” — she sighed—”I also see much evidence of libertinage.”
    “It shows, does it?” he asked coyly, and decided it was time to get down to business.
    He withdrew one of his many Indian jewels from his pocket and held in the palm of his hand a fine ruby ring. He slid it onto her finger and studied it a moment. “Plenty more where this one came from,” he said, and tried once more to get his arm around her waist.
    Mrs. Armstrong rose gracefully. “May Ioffer you a glass of wine, Lord Howard?”
    “That would be dandy.”
    She poured wine, and when Lord Howard reached the bottom of his glass, he found the ruby ring there. “What’s this?”
    Mrs. Armstrong took a seat, not on the chaise longue but on a chair a few feet removed from it. “You are foolishly generous, Lord Howard,” she chided gently.
    “Damme, I wish you will call me Howard.”
    “Then you must call me Serena,” she smiled, though her name was Nancy. “I don’t accept payment for my readings. It is a gift I share with a few friends.”
    “I had hoped I might share another gift,” he said, pinning her with an impatient eye.
    Mrs. Armstrong just smiled sadly. “I shan’t pretend to misunderstand your meaning. I am through with all that.”
    “Why, you’re still in the prime of life! You can’t be more than thirty-five.”
    “A little younger actually. Since my husband’s death five years ago, I have forsaken the pleasures of the flesh, Howard. I leave that for more worldly creatures.”
    “Sure I couldn’t tempt you?” he said, polishing the ruby ring.
    “You could. That is why I must not see you again. Please, respect my wishes in this matter.”
    Her tactic worked splendidly. Lord Howard was quite smitten by her noble mien and that tantalizing weakness on her part. The lamplight flickering on her shapely arms and long, dark eyes imbued her with every allurement.
    “I have been looking forward to this evening all day,” he said, peering from the corner of his eye to read her reaction.
    She reached across the intervening space and patted his hand. “I confess, I, too, have been tempted. But it would not do. I made a vow. . . .”
    “What sort of vow?”
    “When my husband was interred, I vowed on his grave that I would never remarry. Don’t tempt me, Howard, I beg of you. I am only a weak woman, and you are strong. You might convince me to break my vow.”
    The word remarry set him back a peg. He had obviously misunderstood the lady’s background. Pretty as she was, a lifelong commitment to a widow was still anathema to him. He put the ring in his pocket. Mrs. Armstrong lowered her long lashes and stared at her fingers. She made a very pretty picture, there in the flickering lamplight. By staring fixedly at the floor, she managed to raise a film of moisture that closely resembled unshed tears. Then she raised her eyes and smiled very sadly.
    “Good-bye, dear