Free Dark Before the Rising Sun by Laurie McBain Page A

curiously, thinking that Dante had few friends in England. “To someone in the colonies?”
    â€œNo,” Dante answered, momentarily startled as he, too, stared at the letter. “It is to a business acquaintance. There are certain business transactions which I must conclude before ’tis too late.”
    His reticent response did not surprise Rhea, for there was much about Dante she did not know. If she had known everything she would probably not have understood, for they were as different as night and day.
    â€œBut let us not concern ourselves with business. I have a gift for you,” he said as he got up and walked over to where a brown cloth greatcoat lay across the chest at the foot of the four-poster.
    â€œI was going to present this to you tomorrow, but what better time could there be than now?” he asked as his hand disappeared into one of the deep pockets, reappearing seconds later with a small, flat leather case.
    â€œYou have already spent far too much on me,” Rhea protested, genuinely concerned by his extravagance. It was so unnecessary. “I wish you hadn’t ordered so many new gowns from Madame Lambere’s. She is the most expensive dressmaker in London, and since her popularity has increased, so have her prices.”
    â€œOf course she is the best. Do you think I would buy anything but the best for you?” Dante asked. “You do not care for the gowns? Are they not up to her usual standard? If not, then I’ll certainly have a word or two to say to her when—”
    Rhea shook her head in amused exasperation, for Dante suddenly reminded her of a small boy whose surprise had been spoiled. “No, it is not that at all. Indeed, I think they are the most beautiful gowns I have ever seen, but—”
    â€œMy only concern is that you be pleased. Price is of no consequence,” Dante interrupted, thinking he had put an end to her objections.
    â€œIt is just that I do have several wardrobes full of gowns at home, gowns I have scarcely worn. I just do not want you to waste your money, Dante,” Rhea told him, trying to catch his eye in order to convince him of her sincerity. “My parents have seen to my every need. I have never wanted for anything, and I am certain that all of my possessions are still in my bedchamber at Camareigh. So, truly, you do not need to buy me anything, Dante.”
    The expression in Dante’s eyes was unreadable, but his body suddenly tensed. He stood staring down at Rhea, his narrowed gaze lingering on the pure gold of her hair and the way the firelight seemed to be a living part of it.
    â€œYour parents need no longer bear the responsibility for you, Rhea. Whatever you need, I will buy. Those possessions of yours are from another life. I want you to wear only what I have purchased for you. From the satin slippers on your feet to the velvet ribbons in your hair, I want everything you wear to have been bought by me and by no one else.” His voice was implacable.
    Rhea stared at him in amazed incomprehension. “I do not understand. You wish me to forget about my family and the life I lived before I was kidnapped from Camareigh?” Rhea spoke quietly, but there was a look of unease in her eyes when she met Dante’s.
    â€œMy dear, you misunderstand me,” Dante said quickly, realizing too late that he had gone too far. “What I meant was that I had no intention of returning you to Camareigh dressed as you were when aboard the Sea Dragon , despite the charming picture you made. Perhaps if you seem little changed, then your parents will be less suspicious of me,” Dante speculated. “Perhaps your father will even allow me the opportunity of explaining before he tries to blow my head off. Not that I could truly blame him. If I were in his place and a gentleman of so disreputable a character came calling with my daughter on his arm, I would certainly waste little time in dispatching him