AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But no Ivy McGregor.
Not that he expected to see her, but still he cussed silently before shoving his head inside the compartment and demanding, “Where is she?”
Harold Radford looked taken back. “Who?”
“Ivy McGregor.”
“Who the devil is Ivy McGregor?”
“Your maid. Where is she?”
“We have no maid by the name of Ivy McGregor, sir.” Harold Radford looked at Sam as if he were a raving lunatic. “What on earth are you going on about?”
“Moira James,” he ground out. “Where is she?”
“What in heavens do you need with her?” Allison Radford declared.
Sam ignored her question and demanded with more force, “Where the blazing inferno is she?”
“Good Lord!” Clutching a hand over her chest, she pulled back as if expecting Sam to strike her.
“Where is Moira James?”
Harold Radford scooted over to his wife’s side and draped a protective arm across her shoulders. “I imagine in the lavatory where she’s spent most of her time on this trip thus far.”
Sam turned and bolted for the front of the car where the ladies washroom was located. Lifting a fist, he pounded on the door. “Open up!”
“Good God, sir!” Harold Radford followed him into the aisle and watched Sam with a look of horror. His wife peered behind him, eyes huge as she stared up at Sam as if he were the criminal. “What in the world do you think you are doing?”
“Return to your seats. Please.” He spat out just as the train’s very loud and very clear whistle filled the compartment. Damnation.
Seizing the handle, he pushed open the door to reveal an empty stall as he suspected. Cussing under his breath, he pivoted quickly sliding the door to the vestibule open with more force than was necessary. He moved swiftly to the next car and the next lavatory. It was no surprise to him to find
it empty as well.
At the opposite end, a door opened and yet another bloody porter appeared. This one was old and bony with shallow cheeks and a thinning hairline hardly noticeable beneath his cap.
Christ, Sam had never seen so many porter’s on one train before. The eight fleet of cars likely had something to do with that. But they sure as hell always seemed to be in his path and his way.
Intent on pushing past him, Sam came to an abrupt halt when he noticed just over the old man’s left shoulder, the top of a copper-colored head. Releasing a long drawn out sigh of relief, he advanced toward the porter.
But just as he neared, the woman he firmly now believed was Ivy McGregor, peered around the frail looking man and spotted Sam. Her ghost like eyes rounded and the blood drained from her face, but she did not turn and run. Instead, she lifted a shaky hand and pointed a finger at Sam.
“That’s him,” she said in a rather firm voice considering the unguarded fear in her expression. “That’s the man who’s been stalking me.”
This brought Sam, literally, to a screeching halt. The porter frowned before turning to block the copper-haired woman. “Excuse me, sir. Have you been harassing this woman?”
“You’ve got to be kidding?” he muttered more to himself than those around him. Fine, if this was the game she wanted to play, so be it.
“We don’t tolerate such behavior on our railroad line.”
The skin around the corner of Sam’s eyes creased as he narrowed his gaze on the woman. “Is that the story she’s using?”
“We have a very long and tiring ride ahead of us, and we expect our passengers to behave in a cordial and moral manner. If you cannot adhere to these rules, then I’ll have to ask you to remove yourself from this train.”
“Oh, I plan on doing that,” he said. “But not without her.”
“Ye’re a raving lunatic!” she declared in a false cry of innocence.
