Holding it out in front of him, he looked over at the hearth to make sure that all was still well with the esteemed Beeps, and then over at Lady Fiona sweetly slumbering in the huge leather chair. Time to begin. He opened his hand and let the periodical fall. It struck the wooden floor with a perfectly crisp whap! that, just as he’d intended, instantly awakened his cat-carrying, gun-wielding little guest. “Good morning, Lady Fiona,” he said as she blinked and blankly gazed around the room. She looked at him, furrowed her brow in obvious puzzlement for a second or two, and then started in full realization. “How—?” “Beeps is fine,” he assured her. “Still a bit woozy for the trauma, of course, but he’s managed to totter over to a food bowl and then lap up a bit of watered cream.” He gestured toward the gently crackling hearth. “I made a nest for him by the fire and he’s taking a comfortable nap.” She stretched and uncurled. Slowly, leisurely and in a stunningly, startlingly seductive way.
