CHAPTER TWENTY
“Destiny, old girl. I say, old girl, come back. Stop it! Where the blazes do you think you’re going?”
“Where do you think?” She tightened her flapping cloak about her, feeling the crashing waves surging hundreds of feet beneath her, the wind tearing the breath from her body and the hair up from her head, as she battled on. Excuse Divers O’Roarke? Over her dead body now.
“But Tom Berryman’s cottage isn’t this way.”
“That old fool’s cottage? I hope you think I’d go there.”
“Then—”
“Where? Well, if you were sober you might know what happened yesterday, apart from you soaking up more gin and brandy than a wad of blotting paper and berating me for being in his bed.”
“Tom Berryman? You were in Tom Berryman’s—”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous. The sky would fall first and topple all the rainbows.” She only wished it had. And knocked her out. Then last night wouldn’t have happened. “Credit me with some taste. And don’t pretend you don’t know whose bed I’m talking about.”