Bones for Bread (The Scarlet Plumiere) by L.L. Muir Read Free Book Online Page A

like bile from her stomach.
    No. She needed no pity. Just because the Englishmen had given up, did not mean she had to give up as well, aye? If her choices lie between mourning her brother and hoping unreasonably, she would hope unreasonably.
    She closed her eyes to calm herself. In the darkness, she saw again the shake of the dark one’s head. But this time, she denied his pity. He’d best save it for himself.
    “Forgive me, Martin,” she said aloud. “A weak moment. But the moment has passed.”
    From the east came a rumble of thunder. She chose to think of it as a fine answer.

CHAPTER FIVE

    What gentleman would leave me behind with a lame horse?
    He’d known where she’d been standing. He could have circled back around for her, bloody man.
    Suddenly warmed by ire, she rose to her feet and gave her beast a pat for his patience. Over her shoulder, she heard a squeak and turned.
    The front doors had opened again. She told herself not to expect Martin to walk out of them, but she’d forgotten to tell her heart, which tumbled and fell in her chest when a small dark man emerged. Though she saw no others, he seemed to be arguing with someone just inside. He gestured to the rainy sky, then at his boots. A moment later, his shoulders fell and he turned down the steps. The doors closed behind him.
    He tucked something inside his shirt, grimaced once more at the sky, then struck out for the road on foot. What interested her most was the fact he was walking south, and swiftly, as if he would like to catch up with the men on horseback.
    “Ye’ve as much a chance as I do,” she whispered, and set off in the same direction.
    She moved through the trees the way she’d come, but soon the whinny of another’s horse brought her up short. After a moment of waiting, she moved on carefully, though silence was hardly necessary with the rain knocking about in the leaves.
    A dark chestnut mare stood tethered to a tree. A fine white handkerchief dripped from a branch above its head. If it weren’t raining, the white flag would have been easily seen from the road.
    He hadn’t left her after all.
    As she untied the flag, she gave God thanks the dark little man hadn’t noticed the horse first. She’d traveled approximately a kilometer when she passed the man. He was splashing along in the mud. As she left him behind, he called out to her in French that it was cruel for her to ride away with two horses and leave him in the rain. Of course, it would have been foolish for any woman to stop for a strange man on such an ominous evening, even if she were capable of defending herself; she assumed the man would understand.
    The storm moved on and the sun came out for one final appearance, dancing on a stage of dark pink clouds that poured over the edge of the horizon, slowly dragging the sun over with it. Blair’s neck grew sore from her constant glancing sideways to watch. It cheered her like nothing but Martin’s face could have done.
    But the face that haunted her all the way back to Charleville belonged to another man altogether.
    ~ ~ ~
    The wall sconce in her hallway was graced with a new candle, and a poor man’s candelabra held a trio of fatter candles while protecting the solitary table from lustrous beads of wax. No doubt the attendant expected some worthy to grace the servant’s hall. She only hoped he’d be wrong since again, she was of two minds about coming face to face with Ash. After all, what could they possibly have to speak about? His lack of hope? Her refusal to give up?
    Indeed.
    Still, as she turned her key, she held her breath and waited to see if a handsome gentleman might be waiting to wrap his arms around her once again. Which he was not. But there were signs of him everywhere.
    Obviously, he’d repeated the orders she’d cancelled. The fire carried on a crackling conversation with itself on its new grate. A flagon of wine and a single glass rested on the table next to a large pillar candle, and the entire