She lifted her chin. “I get that same line from my father. You know, I might be more willing and cooperative if someone would simply tell me what’s going on. How can I be cautious if I don’t know what I’m running from?”
“Good point.” He looked at her with regret when the music ended. “Why don’t we go sit down and I’ll try to explain.”
She checked her watch. “I have to give a thank-you speech in about fifteen minutes, Mr. Warwick.”
“It’s Shane,” he replied, his smile back in let’s pretend mode. “And not to worry on that account. I will be a perfect gentleman at all times and you can escape to give your speech without missing a beat. You have my word on that.”
Kit believed him, and to her ultimate aggravation, was almost a little disappointed to cave so easily. Trudy was right about Shane Warwick. He knew how to wear a tuxedo. The man exuded cool, calm, collected and charming. Lethal qualities to tempt a woman who missed the closeness of marriage and a husband. But easing her loneliness wasn’t why Shane Warwick was here.
Her powerful father had ordered him to watch over her. And Gerald Barton could pay for the best in everything, including bodyguards. She could rest easy in that assurance at least. Even if she probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight when she finally made it home.
“We can take that table in the far corner by the orchestra,” she told him, her gaze moving through the crowd. “We shouldn’t be interrupted there.”
“Good,” Shane said, his approval telling her they’d also be safer there. “I’ll get you settled and fetch us something to drink. Are you hungry?”
“No.” She couldn’t eat a bite if her life depended on it. Then she remembered why Shane was here. Her life might depend on following his orders, whether she wanted to or not. Dropping her defiance for now, she allowed him to guide her to their table.
The eyes of everyone in the room followed them with clear interest and curious speculation.
Shane set down their drinks and a plate of canapés then pulled out the chair across from her. The vase of red roses on the stark white brocade tablecloth added a sense of drama to their meeting. He’d taken on this job and now he had to do his best to convince the subject at hand that she needed to listen to reason. And, he decided on the spot, he hoped he could make her smile again in the process of getting acquainted with her.
Shane didn’t know which part of his task would be the most difficult—keeping her safe or removing her mantle of grief. He hated the look of despair that came into her eyes when she didn’t think anyone was watching. But he was paid to observe and paid to pick up on the slightest of nuances.
And right now, as he watched Kit from across the tiny table, he saw a woman who hid her emotions and her fears behind the aura of grace and style and proper grooming.
His mother, British-bred and born, would highly approve of Katherine Atkins. But Lady Samantha wasn’t here tonight, thankfully. He didn’t need her playing matchmaker while he was on the clock. No, his dear mother was safely ensconced in their country home near London, entertaining a group of pretentious, titled friends who moved in royal circles. And having the time of her life doing it, he imagined.
“You’re grinning,” Kit said, her exquisite eyebrows lifting like a butterfly’s wings. “Is this amusing to you?”
He shook his head. “I was thinking about my mother, actually.”
Kit slanted her head. “That’s not very complimentary of me, now is it? We’re finally alone and you’re thinking about your mother?”
He liked her sense of humor. “Trust me, luv, it was a passing thought. I was thinking how she’d love to meet you. She loves all things Texas, so much so that she married a Texan—my father was born and raised near Dallas. We still have property just outside Fort Worth.” His smile tipped up into a grin. “And she named me after a movie—that Wyoming western Shane. I’m surprised she didn’t name me Dallas, but my father loved that particular movie. Watched it all the time.”
Kit leaned forward. “Well, I didn’t know all of that. But you’re so—”
“British?” he asked, following her body language and leaning forward a bit himself. “That I am. My mother’s British with a lineage that dates back to Queen Elizabeth—the first Queen Elizabeth, that is.” He shrugged. “My parents met on a cruise to Africa, went on safari together and well, as you said earlier, the rest was written in the stars. A true love match.”
She lifted away, clearly uncomfortable with any talk of love matches. “Did your father move to England, then?”
“Yes and no. They lived there part of the time and here part of the time by mutual consent, and sometimes they even lived apart by mutual consent, but I attended school in England and spent most of my youth there, per my mother’s request.”
“And how did your father feel about that?”
“He brought me here during school breaks and the summers so we could hunt and fish and do manly things. Just so I’d have a well-rounded life, you understand.”
“I do understand. Texas is so vast, we can all acquire a well-rounded life here. Even an Englishman.”
His grin turned impish. “I think my mother would agree with you on that. She did spend a great deal of time in Texas when they were dating. Especially when he was trying to convince her to marry him. She said she almost backed out after meeting his loud, crude, slightly crazy family. But she grew to love them, one and all.” He touched a rose petal and watched it fall to the table. “And she loved my father. Their time together wasn’t always happy, though. I think they needed their spots of separation.”
She frowned. “I thought you said it was a love match.”
“I did and it was. But all good things take time and compromise, or as my mother calls it—mutual consent and mutual respect.” He looked at her, her eyes, her lips, her long, elegant throat, that enticing strand of perfect pearls. “But some things can be worth the wait.”
Kit, following the line of his gaze, toyed with her pearls. “So she didn’t give in at first, even though she was in love with him?”
Shane saw the interest in her pretty green eyes. And a bit of sadness. She was a romantic then. “No, he used to say he chased her until she let him catch her. And she used to say that she had him wrapped around her finger, but she just wanted to make sure he sweated a little before she said yes.”
“What a charming story.”
Shane nodded, took a sip of his drink. “My father, William, died a few years ago. So now, it’s hard for Lady Samantha to come to Texas. It reminds her too much of him.”
Kit put her elbow on the table then dropped her chin onto her upturned hand, making her look more like a fresh-faced debutante than an attractive, mature woman. “I can certainly understand that feeling. Sometimes, I’d like to get out of this state myself.”
Shane noted that. “I’m sorry for your loss. From what I’ve heard, your husband was a good man.”
She blinked, realized she wasn’t sitting up properly and just like that, her spine went ramrod straight, no longer touching the back of her chair, while the curtain on her emotions came down with a feminine sigh and an elegant lifting of her chin. “Thank you. Now let’s talk about why you’re here and what I need to do to make this as unobtrusive as possible.”
Shane put his hand on his heart. “Unobtrusive? You want me to be unobtrusive?” She didn’t need to know that he was an expert at sneaking in and out of most places completely undetected.
She