Wild Fire

  * * *

  Abigail finished an early dinner in the small dining room on the first floor and wondered what she could wear on a nighttime hunt. Her dresses were out of the question. Maybe she could borrow something from Torre.

  She pushed back from the table and walked outside to find him. Seeing no one out front, she proceeded to the corner of the building to check out the stables and heard the sound of a carriage approaching. She glanced back, and her pulse rate quickened when she recognized Andreas.

  He halted his team, threw the reins over a post and came toward her. “Signorina Foster.” His stern tone drew her gaze to his face.

  Her smile faltered. What on earth was the matter? “Signor De Luca. How nice to see you.”

  “Is it? Then you should time your visits to my house when I am at home.”

  She hadn’t misjudged his mood. He was definitely angry. She swallowed a sharp retort. “Are you annoyed that I visited with Fredrico?”

  “I did not realize you had progressed to a first name basis with him.”

  “Is that a crime? What’s this about?” Her voice was sharp this time, but she added in a milder tone. “I didn’t know you were away when I accepted his invitation to coffee.”

  Andreas raised a brow, but his posture was slightly less stiff. “I am sorry if I offended you, but my great-papa is very frail and frightened of dying. He is also very wealthy, and I do not want anyone to take advantage of his vulnerability.”

  Abigail stared at him. “You think I’m running some kind of scam?”

  “Scam?” He directed a puzzled frown at her.

  Oops. “Trickery. Fraud. You know, that I’m some kind of gold-digger.”

  He hesitated. “My manservant brought a box to Fredrico while you were with him. When Manfred returned the box it was empty. What was inside, Signorina Foster? Where is this object now?”

  Damn overprotective servants! What could she tell him? Not the truth. That would require her to explain it all, and she absolutely couldn’t do that.

  “Have you asked your great-papa?” she demanded.

  He frowned uncomfortably.

  “No?” Her voice sharpened with scorn. “Then I suggest you do so. Good day, Signor.” There. As Emily might say, she had given him a proper set down. Satisfied she’d avoided a potential land mine, Abigail walked away.

  He came after her. “I did not mean to accuse you of anything. I merely thought—”

  “Frankly, I don’t care what you thought.” Abigail kept walking. “Obviously you have a very poor opinion of my character.”

  “Abigail.”

  She glared at him, doing her best to look scandalized.

  “Signorina Foster,” he amended. “In my defense, I have had a long, tiring ride today. If I jumped to an unworthy conclusion, I am sorry.” He hesitated. “You are very right. I should speak with my great-papa.”

  “Do that.” She couldn’t resist having the last word.

  He stood there a moment, then mounted the carriage, flicked the reins at his team, and drove away.

  She walked slowly toward the stables. It was going to be harder than ever to visit Fredrico now, particularly at the critical moments before his death. She hated to take someone else into her confidence, but maybe there was a servant who could help her. Not Manfred. Clearly he would tattle to Andreas, the very thing she was trying to avoid.

  Torre was cleaning a harness in the stable, and jumped to his feet when he spotted her. “Is there something you want, signorina?”

  What did she want? She couldn’t very well tell him she wanted his shirt and pants. It had seemed like a good idea, but now that she stood there, with him looking at her so oddly, she just couldn’t think of a way to do it without making him think she was crazy. “I was just out for a walk. Don’t let me disturb you.” She backed out of the stables and nearly ran back to the inn.

  So now what? Even if she had to go in a dress, she was monster hunting tonight. She had an idea who—or what—it was. Andreas’s weretigers had been around in this time period. Not yet in his service, but he’d told her the story about his family sheltering a weretiger who’d been infected while defending a member of the De Luca family. This cat-like creature had to be related somehow. No one had been hurt, but that didn’t mean no one would be.

  With one hand propped on her hip, she stared in dismay at the dresses on the bed. White or pale green wouldn’t make much difference. They’d both stand out in the dark, and either would be ruined after a night in the woods. Since she had two white ones, she chose the one she had on and slipped her dagger sheath onto a scarf tied around her waist.

  Abigail crept down the back stairs. It had been dark for almost an hour, and she hoped that everyone would be inside at this time of night. She pushed the door open a crack and peeked out, using her enhanced guardian senses of sight and smell to detect possible observers.

  A light was on in the stables, but no one was around. She eased outside, closing the door softly behind her. Mrs. Paglia always stayed up front in the evenings for late travelers, but it was only a short hallway to the back door.

  Abigail cut behind the stable, the pungent odor of horses mixing with the sounds of restless hooves settling for the night. As she reached the first stand of trees that would hide her from the inn, she hiked up her skirts and ran toward the woods.

  An hour later she was disheveled and dirty but hadn’t found any definite evidence of a supernatural creature or any other predatory animal that might have frightened the villagers. There was a faint trace of Otherworld energy, but it was too indistinct to identify the species. It might have been left by a passing stranger at any time, even weeks or months ago.

  Her search had given her a greater understanding of the Italian countryside, which held only small areas of cover sufficient for large animals. No wonder the creature had been spotted. It would take great skill to move around this terrain without being seen.

  Abigail was about ready to start a second pass when her spidey senses began to tingle, raising the hair on her arms. Otherworld power. She stopped and reached out with her witch magic to pinpoint the source. She smelled him. Off to the left. Grabbing her silver dagger from her waist, she crept forward through the sparse brush.

  The weretiger stood in the middle of a field, his striped fur an obvious giveaway in the moonlight, unless you were a villager expecting the bogeyman. She watched him for an instant. His nose pointed up, sniffing the air, as if he realized he wasn’t alone.

  She started toward him to try talking first. Her single goal was to prevent him from terrorizing the countryside.

  The moment she appeared, the tiger whirled and fled toward the tree line behind him. “Wait,” she called. “I just want to talk. I know what you are.” She bunched her skirts in one hand and raced between the trees, leapt over a large log, and scrambled up a narrow path. As she charged over the top of the hill, she sidestepped a direct collision with a large figure. Before she could spin out of reach, a man’s strong arms came around her and held tight.

  Abigail kicked at his legs, almost breaking free, until her skirts caught on a bush. Trapped, she clutched the dagger prepared to plunge it into her attacker’s thigh.

  “What the hell? Damnation. Hold still.”

  She stiffened, recognizing the voice.

  “Abigail?” Andreas’s eyes raked over her. “My God, woman, why are you holding a knife?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Andreas? What are you doing skulking about in the woods? I thought you were the monster everyone in the village was talking about.” She shook loose from his hold and jerked her skirt free from the brush.

  His brows shot up. “You were chasing a monster? With that?” He pointed to the knife and frowned, momentarily distracted. “It is an unusual blade. May I see it?”

  She hid it behind her back. “No, you may not. If you are through man-handling me, I’m going back to the inn.”

  “Not alone. I am not the monster you mistook me fo
r, but the woods at night are no place for a gently bred woman.” He peered at her. “If that is what you are.”

  “What does that mean? First you accuse me of being a thief or a fortune hunter, and now you insult my…my parentage?” She turned and hurried in the direction of the village. She was desperate to get away from his questions before he got any closer to the truth.

  He easily caught up with her.

  “Go home,” she said crossly. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I have no doubt.” His voice held a hint of amusement. “Nevertheless, I’m coming with you.”

  They walked in awkward silence for a while. He caught her once when her skirt snagged again on a branch. The brief contact sparked a flare of sensual awareness. She pulled away and moved along the path as quickly as she could. “I don’t believe you told me why you were in the woods,” she said.

  “Did I not?” He seemed to think about it. “I was out for a walk.”

  She nearly gave a snort of disbelief, but she turned it into a cough.

  “Did you say something?” His voice dared her to call him a liar.

  “Oh, no. A tingle in my throat. It must be the night air.”

  He gave a faint chuckle.

  She saw the stable lights ahead and lengthened her stride.

  “You move quite briskly for a lady,” he said.

  Abigail gave him a benign look. “You have no idea.” She came to an abrupt halt and turned back to face him. “The stable is just ahead. Please go now before you give me away. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. If I’m careful, I may be able to slip up the back stairs unnoticed.”

  “Very well.” His gaze warmed her. “I will save you from a scolding by Mrs. Paglia, but we will talk again.” He gave a slight bow. “Until then.”

  “Good night, Signor De Luca.”

  “Buona notte, signorina.”

  * * *

  The following morning Abigail put on her new hat and was out of the inn at an early hour. She’d been up since dawn, going over the events of yesterday. She tried to put the disastrous meetings with Andreas behind her and focus on the weretiger problem, but she kept seeing his face when he accused her of taking advantage of Fredrico, and again when he saw her knife.

  She walked through the village lost in thought. The next meeting with Andreas could be awkward in the face of his growing list of suspicions. He’d acted less hostile by the time they parted last night, but she knew he wasn’t fooled. She’d have to brazen it out—and avoid him as much as possible.

  She nodded to people she passed on the way, furtively checking them for the telltale shapeshifter aura. In her early morning musings, she’d concluded her best chance to find the weretiger was to search for him in human form by mingling with the populace of the small community. She was bound to run into him sooner or later.

  “Good morning, Miss Foster.”

  She startled at hearing her name and swept around to find Richard Farnsworth behind her in a one-horse gig. Relieved it wasn’t Andreas, she gave him a welcoming smile. “You don’t have to be so formal, Richard. You can call me Abigail. Where is your sister this morning?”

  “Still abed, I fear. In London, we rarely see her until close to noon. But you don’t seem to suffer from her bad habits.”

  She smiled at him. “I have many of my own. But Emily was here to take me driving quite early one morning.”

  His grin was that of a knowing brother. “Up to some scheme, no doubt. She can bestir herself if it suits her.” He gestured toward the seat beside him. “May I take you somewhere?”

  “Thank you, but I’m just enjoying a morning walk. I hope to hire a small conveyance at the livery and spend the day acquainting myself with the countryside.”

  “This is Sunday. You won’t find anything open until after church, not even the livery.”

  She screwed her face into a frown. “That’s too bad. I guess I don’t have any choice but to wait.”

  “You drive then?”

  She dropped her gaze. “Um, how hard can it be?”

  Richard threw back his head and laughed. “Very hard, if you haven’t been properly taught to handle the reins.”

  She sighed and scuffed the toe of her shoe. “Then I’ll have to be a quick student.”

  It was his turn to frown. “Your heart is set on doing this?”

  “It is, but don’t worry. I’ll get some tips before I do.”

  He made a most ungentlemanly snort. “Come on. I just dropped Mother off at church and she won’t be ready to go home for at least a couple of hours. I’ll show you how it is done and let you practice. By that time Harry will be back at the livery, and I’ll see that he gives you the most docile animal he has.”

  Abigail eagerly agreed. Within minutes she realized how foolhardy her original plan had been. But with Richard’s patient help, she was doing very well by the end of the two hours. True to his promise, he negotiated an appropriate horse with Harry, the blacksmith and livery owner. By early afternoon, she and Lucia, a brown horse of indeterminate age and a gentle disposition, were on their way.

  Lucia didn’t give her any real trouble, except she rarely moved faster than a walk and had her own ideas about where they should go. Still, they managed together. Abigail waved at numerous farm workers and smiled at passing carts and carriages. She even dared to trespass on private properties, always waving gaily. She figured they’d be talking about the strange American lady for days. She saw a lot of the thriving countryside and its hard-working people, but not a single sighting of a weretiger. At one vineyard she noticed a female werefox among the workers, but otherwise the area appeared devoid of Otherworld inhabitants.

  By late afternoon, she was hot, dusty and ready for cold drink of water and a glass of wine. She returned Lucia to Harry, succeeded in conveying her message that she might need the horse again, and walked toward the inn. A quick wash, and then that glass of wine.

  She glanced up at the clip-clop of an approaching horse. Andreas was riding astride. He tipped his head toward her. “Signorina Foster.” He reined in his horse and dismounted. Ignoring her less-than-welcoming frown, he looked her over in amusement. “Have you been roaming the countryside again?”

  “I’ve been driving,” she answered tartly.

  Andreas threw up his hands at her sharp tone. “Peace. I come to make peace.”

  “It isn’t necessary.” She resumed walking. “Your opinion of me is unimportant.”

  “It is important to me.” He looped the horse’s reins over his arm and followed her. “Signorina, have you not made a mistake that you regret? I have come to beg your forgiveness.”

  She slowed her pace to allow him to walk beside her without putting his horse into a trot. “I assume you talked with your great-papa.”

  “Yes, I did, and received a good scolding for it. After impressing on me that it was none of my business, he showed me the Chinese letter opener that belonged in the box.” He made a rueful face. “I am afraid Manfred is also in his bad graces.”

  “As you both should be.” She glanced sideways at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, do you intend to apologize or not?”

  He chuckled. A rich, sensual sound that made her breath quicken. “I do.” He stepped in front of her, his brown eyes twinkling, and made a formal bow. “I humbly beg your pardon.” He searched her face. “Will that do?”

  “Apology accepted. Although I shouldn’t let you off so easily.” Discomfited by his nearness, she moved back. It was hard not to kiss those smiling lips, a frequent end to their fights in her real life. She ducked her head to hide the thought and walked around him. What would he do if she’d acted on her impulse? Would he be shocked? Somehow she didn’t think he’d push her away. That made it even harder to keep her distance.

  He continued to walk beside her until they reached the inn. “You have quite a champion in Fredrico. He was very taken with you. In fact, I was here earlier to invite you for afternoon refreshments, but you were out. Perha
ps tomorrow morning? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  “I would love to. I admire your great-papa, and I have enjoyed the stories of his childhood and his life in Italy. I’ll look forward to seeing him again.”

  “Then I’ll call for you at ten.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t need to bother. I can drive myself.”

  “Nonsense. I insist. Ten o’clock.”

  “OK—” She turned the slang expression into a cough and tried again. “I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  As she’d anticipated, Andreas was the one who came to pick her up the next morning. He wore a blue morning jacket that contrasted nicely with the rich black locks that tumbled casually over his forehead. The tight leggings showed off his muscular physique.

  Too bad this pant style has faded, she thought. Jeans don’t even compare.

  He smiled, as if he’d read her thoughts. “Good morning, Abigail. It is a beautiful day for a drive, and Fredrico is eagerly awaiting your visit.”

  He handed her into his curricle, and they made comfortable small talk on the drive. He made no reference to the monster or the confrontation in the woods.

  She shot him a furtive glance. Was that because he didn’t want to talk about it either? Andreas had to be aware of the weretiger; the De Luca family had protected him. Had Andreas been in the woods on the same errand as she was? To find out why the tiger was frightening the villagers? If he had been, it was clear he wasn’t going to talk about it.

  Fredrico was in the garden when they arrived. He appeared to be sleeping.

  Andreas held a hand out to Abigail. “Apparently, our espresso is postponed. But if you do not have pressing plans, perhaps you might enjoy seeing more of the estate. Since you do not harvest grapes or figs or olives in your part of America, you might enjoy seeing our crops. We also have a few enjoyable views.”