Every instinct Johanna possessed insisted that Serena had not hesitated over that bland statement. She held something back. But why? Did Serena sense the not-quite-scabbed-over wound on Johanna’s heart?
Of course, she could press the issue. She could pursue some hint that Connor harbored feelings for her, some clue that she’d meant more to him than a warm body in his arms during a danger-fraught time. But she already knew the answer. His gift had spoken for him, and its message had been unmistakable. Connor had sent the book with Serena as a show of gratitude for the role Johanna played in ensuring the security of the stone. Nothing more.
Pulling in a breath, she met Serena’s pronouncement with a smile. “I’m certain you will love Philadelphia. I’m delighted by the prospect of showing you around the city that is my home.”
Dashing about the townhouse like a madwoman, Johanna managed to select suitable attire for both Laurel and herself. After enlisting Mrs. Mitchell’s assistance in preparing Laurel, she freshened up, slipped into a high-collared dress of burgundy velvet, and swept up her own unruly hair into some semblance of fashionable submission. And all before Serena MacMasters became so weary of the wait that she thought better of her invitation.
Come to think of it, Serena had not stated who was expecting her at the Savoy. Had she mentioned family in London? Johanna couldn’t quite pin it down in her thoughts.
“Serena, I do hope we’re not intruding,” Johanna said, leading a ribbon-bedecked Laurel into the study. “With this being your last night in the city, your companion might not welcome unanticipated guests.”
“My brother will be pleased ye’ve decided to join us.” Serena’s gaze dropped for the briefest of moments. “Ye see, Connor has accompanied me to London.”
Oh, dear. His name seemed a blustery gale, threatening the eggshell-thin shield Johanna had erected around her heart. How could she sit down to an oh-so-civilized dinner with the man whose passion unleashed utterly improper desires and shattered any illusion she ever held of her own sensible nature?
“My brother’s a bit rough about the edges,” Serena went on, replacing the book in her hand on the shelf. “But he cleans up well.”
Serena made a show of toying with the lace at her cuffs. Clearly, she sensed Johanna’s uneasiness. That much had been clear from the moment she’d retrieved the gift from her valise. Yet, she’d set their encounter into motion. Johanna had not taken Serena to be cruel or thoughtless, despite her cool, unflinching demeanor in the Highlands. Had she misinterpreted Johanna’s feelings? Did she believe Johanna felt a dislike of her brother rather than the magnetic attraction neither could deny?
Even as the questions tore at Johanna, Laurel pranced over to Serena. She gave a twirl, showing off her dress with the enormous scarlet bow she so admired, and flashed a grin at the young woman.
“My, that’s a lovely ribbon,” Serena said, her tone sweeter than Johanna had imagined possible. Something that looked like amusement danced in Serena’s eyes She hardly seemed the type to be inclined to mischief. Still, there was no denying the glint in her green irises.
Clever, that one. By openly inviting the child, she’d tilted the odds of Johanna’s acceptance in her favor. After all, to decline at this point would prove a great disappointment to her niece.
Johanna pulled in a fortifying breath. Surely she could break bread with the man who’d helped save Laurel’s life without going all wobbly-kneed.
“It would be my pleasure to dine with the two of you,” she said, mustering a placid tone.
“Wonderful.” Serena smoothed her hair, as if that would tame the mass of sable ringlets framing her face. “Connor can be brusque at times, arrogant at others. But he’s set his mind to laying eyes on ye again before ye embark on yer voyage.”
So, he wanted to see her off on her journey. Perhaps the brash Scot only intended to ensure for himself that his sister would be in capable hands once she arrived in America. If only Johanna’s heart had healed from the last time she’d said farewell. On the train from Inverness, taking her last look at the Highlands, she’d believed she would never see Connor again. Now, the ache throbbed anew, and she knew the wound hadn’t really mended at all.
But she couldn’t deny Connor the comfort of knowing that Serena would not be on her own in an unfamiliar land.
He’d been there for her when she needed him. How could she offer any less? The thought eased her misgivings, if not the pain deep within at the thought of once again bidding him farewell.
Chapter Forty-One
Johanna had faced villains whose literary counterparts might have lurked within the pages of her novels and she’d lived to tell the tale. So why in blazes did the sight of Connor MacMasters set her heart to tripping? Why did she follow every step of his approach as if mesmerized, pulse pounding, quietly frantic as a bird staring into the eyes of a hungry cat?