Free Echoes in Stone by Kat Sheridan Page B

two days. A lover, perhaps?”
    Exhaustion and residual fear gave way to anger. He didn’t trust her. Fine. Let him believe she was the sort to let her passions run away with her. Let him draw whatever conclusions he wanted. He’d already tarred her with that brush anyway.
    She considered lying to him, weaving him the sort of sordid tale he expected of his wife’s stepsister. But what strength she’d mustered drained from her as suddenly as it had come. Anger wouldn’t help her cause.
    She leaned back, closing her eyes. “Luther is—Luther takes care of me. I don’t live with Marguerite. When I came of age, I set up my own household, thanks to a small inheritance from a spinster aunt. Luther is my—my friend. I couldn’t manage without him.”
    Luther would love Holly, love having her in their cheerful home. If only she could make Dash see that. Make him see she was nothing like Marguerite. Nothing like Lily. That she could be entrusted with the care of his daughter.
    If she lived long enough.
    Her senses tingled. Where had that come from? She glanced at Dash, considering the way he’d barked questions at her. As if—what? A test of some kind? Interrogation? It wouldn’t do him any good. She only remembered pain. Pain and an unnamed fear.
    A small, high voice interrupted them. “Is Auntie Jessa going to die like Mama?”
    In two strides, Dash reached the fair-haired child and scooped her into his arms. “Hush now, Holly. Auntie Jessa needs to rest.”
    “Yes Papa,” she said. “Mama sleeped in the afternoons, too. Then Mama sleeped and sleeped and went away for a long time. Susanna said Mama died, but she was wrong. Susanna is wrong all the time. But she’s funny sometimes, too.”
    A frisson trembled through Jessa. Susanna. She’d heard that name. Recently. It set off alarms. Why couldn’t she remember?
    She opened her eyes, observing the exchange between father and daughter. This was the first time she’d seen Dash with Holly. Curiosity roused her. How would he treat her?
    Holly perched in Dash’s arms, her chubby legs wrapped around his waist, one arm flung around his neck, nose to nose with the scruffy man. Somehow, she managed to both hold a bedraggled doll and suck a thumb. She seemed content and familiar in his embrace.
    She popped her thumb out of her mouth, looking at Jessa. “See? Auntie Jessa’s awake now. Susanna said Auntie Jessa was going to be dead like Mama, but Mama said not. Can I see Auntie Jessa, Papa?”
    The little girl unwrapped her legs, kicking the air. Jessa and Dash stared at her, appalled. What on earth was the child saying? Dash looked utterly stricken.
    “Of course,” Jessa said, before Dash could launch into his usual headfirst, barking-of-questions style of interrogation. He’d only upset the child. “I’d love to have you for a short visit, sweetheart. Captain, please, could you bring her here to sit next to me?”
    Dash caught her look and glared at her over Holly’s head, but acquiesced to her silent plea. “Of course you may visit for a few minutes with Aunt Jessa, but you must sit very still. No jumping around. She’s had an upset tummy. You’ve had upset tummies, haven’t you, little one? You know how you like to lie still when you feel that way?”
    Dash set Holly on the bed near Jessa, then bent down to look at her at her eye level. “Do you think you can sit here next to her and be quiet, poppet?”
    The child smiled, and nodded. “I’ll be very still, Papa.” With only a minimum of fussing and squirming, she settled herself in the tousled covers, watched over by her father, who looked ready to snatch her back up if Jessa gave the slightest hint of distress. The child sucked her thumb, suddenly shy. Her blue eyes, with the same cat-like tilt as her mother’s, studied Jessa.
    She finally removed her thumb from her mouth and smiled. “And how are you feelin’ today, Auntie Jessa?” she asked, in her very best imitation of a grownup.
    Jessa raised