Come Midnight by Veronica Sattler Read Free Book Online Page B

match. Yet it was the greatest victory he could imagine. Because, before losing, he'd managed to capture no less than eight chessmen from his opponent. From the devil himself.
    He looked at the eight white marble pieces piled behind his side of the board. He remembered how chagrined he'd been when Appleby had won the draw for white; since white always went first, it had given Appleby the automatic advantage. Adam had felt sure it was an unlucky portent of how the match would go.
    And yet he'd no complaints. Eight men! Giving him another forty years of life before the bargain was fulfilled. By the time that bloody fiend came to drag him to perdition, his son would be well launched. Andrew would likely present him with grandchildren before he ....
    Thoughts of his son had him suddenly rigid with suspicion. Prior to leaving, Appleby had assured him he'd find Andrew alive and improving, yet what did that mean? He ought to have insisted on taking the little bastard back to his chamber and seen for himself. Contract or no, he didn't trust the archfiend. Not one bloody bit!
    Pivoting on his heel, Adam raced from the room. On his way to his son, he absently rubbed a finger on his left hand; the tip was sore from where he'd pricked it with Appleby's knife. He dismissed it. The little reminder would soon fade. He'd give the damned business no more thought. He had no regrets. His son was what mattered, not he.
    He'd been living in hell for years, anyway.
    ***
    Caitlin shifted her weight as she knelt beside the huge canopied bed. She was fighting exhaustion, but she wouldn't give in to it. Not while she had strength enough to pray. As she saw it, prayer was the lad's only hope.
    She'd done everything she could think of for the wee lord. And yet he'd not shown the slightest sign of regaining his senses. She feared ... Ach, no! That way lay certain failure. She'd not let herself fear!
    "Hail, Mary, full o' Grace," she murmured for the countless time since kneeling. "The Lord is with Thee. Blessed art Thou among—"
    "Mama, my leg hurts!"
    A gasp from Mrs. Hodgkins at the doorway echoed in the still chamber. Caitlin's breath caught. Releasing it slowly, she raised her head. And met the clear-eyed gaze of the child on the bed.
    "God be praised!" she whispered, but this was drowned out by the housekeeper's cry of wonder.
    In a steady voice, the boy complained of thirst. Weeping with joy, Mrs. Hodgkins ran to fetch Jepson. Caitlin said a silent, "Hail, Mary," and helped the child sip from a cup of water she'd left on the bed stand.
    "Caitlin, Are you my new governess?" the boy asked as Caitlin set the cup aside and checked him for fever. He was cool to the touch.
    "No," she answered, smiling. He had the loveliest blue eyes. Like the sky on a clear summer's day, they were, and fringed with thick, sooty lashes. "Me name's Caitlin, and I'm ... a friend."
    "My name's Andrew," he told her as she began to check his wounds. It was astounding... a miracle, really. Not only that he'd regained his senses, although that was astonishing all by itself. But the head wound! It had healed beyond anything she might have expected. A miracle, sure.
    Andrew complained again about the pain in his leg, and she swiftly raised the blanket to check it. Murmuring words of reassurance when he began to whimper with the pain, she frowned. The leg hadn't fared as well as his head; it was still in terrible—
    "Who the devil are you!"
    Caitlin swung sharply about, saw a tall man charging through the doorway.
    "And what the hell are you doing with my son?"he demanded in a furious voice, hovering over her with clenched fists.
    Caitlin blanched, and hurriedly crossed herself. It was the man with the scar. From her dream.

Chapter 4
    Heart slamming against her chest, Caitlin stared mutely at the irate lord. Dark ... uncommonly handsome, despite the scar ... imposing, he was the exact image of the man in her dream. The one who watched as she played chess with—
    "Answer me, damn