Ashley glanced sideways at him. “You know you’re full of it, don’t you?”

“Oliver suggested the same thing—not as baldly, of course. I had to prove to him I wasn’t a sleazy reporter. My business card, he said, was inadequate as proof. Finally, I called my father and had him vouch for me. Then, of course, I had to make due explanations to my father, who’s beginning to get sick of all this ‘nonsense’ and pointed out that Mac and I have work piling up and clients wondering where the hell we are.”

“He hadn’t heard from Mac?”

“I didn’t ask—Oliver was right there—but I don’t think so.”

“And Oliver was finally convinced of your innocence?”

“Finally. He drove me to the airport himself.”

Ashley winced. “Poor Nelle. I wonder what she’ll do.”

“If she’s smart, she’ll cross you off her list of friends.”

“If she’s dutiful, obedient and boring, she will.”

“She’s none of those—and neither are you.”

“Nor you.”

“Liars never are.”

“I suppose not.” She didn’t avert her eyes. “Am I a jerk?”

He smiled. “No bigger one than I am.”

Then he lifted her hands from the rail and placed them on his chest, and he slipped his arms around her waist. And when they kissed, languorously, she felt the ache inside her slowly begin to ease.

21

He found her alone on the porch of the little house. She had been pacing, terrified, guilt ridden. Now she looked at him, and she saw that he was sweating in the humid southern heat. He was as dashing and mystifying as she remembered, but somehow frightening, too. It had been months since the panicky, disastrous escape across the Hungarian border. And yet, no one knew Lillian Parker had ever set foot in Budapest. It was their secret. It had to be.

And she had thought she would never see the orült szerzetes again. The mad monk.

“You must leave her with me,” he said in his precise, excellent English.

“I can’t.”

“You have no choice. For her safety—and yours—you must trust me. If I knew to follow you here, so will others.”

“Aren’t you being melodramatic?”

“No.”

He was a man who never wasted words; he seemed without emotion. She had learned that within minutes of meeting him. “Will you stay here?”

“It’s too risky. We’ll have to move.”

She turned, looking out across the valley of cedars. It was so quiet here. “And you won’t tell me where you are, will you? Where she is? What’s happening to her?”

“That would endanger both of you.”

“You’re so sure, aren’t you?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I am.”

“She doesn’t believe she’s in any danger, you know.”

“I know.”

A tense silence followed. She wondered what other young women her age were doing. Why did she always have to be so different? “I suppose you’re right,” she said quietly, hoping. “I have no choice. I have to trust you—as I did in Budapest. Tell me I was right then.” Her eyes lifted to him. “Tell me it wasn’t my fault.”