Dark Torment by Karen Robards Read Free Book Online

him capable of any atrocity, including
the one that Percival had so delicately alluded to. No doubt, only her own lack
of attraction—possibly coupled with the convict’s state of
health—was all that had saved her from that hideous fate.
    “I came to treat the man’s back, Mr. Percival,”
Sarah said evenly, determined not to let her perturbation show as she moved
forward. She reached the stall door and waited for him to move away from the
other side so that she could open it. When he didn’t, but stared at her
face and then, beyond her, at the convict, she added, “Please let me
pass.”
    Still he didn’t move. His eyes swung back to search her
face, then his voice was suddenly sharp as he said, “Why is the medical
kit spilled all over the ground? If you came to treat his back, why
didn’t you? I heard you shouting when I came in—by God, if that
blackguard laid a hand on you . . . ! Did he touch you, Sarah? Just tell me if
he did, and I’ll finish what Farley started today!” He stepped
back, swung open the stall door, and started through it. His eyes were fixed on
the convict, who lay on his stomach staring up at them. At Percival’s
violent eruption, he levered himself up on one elbow. Both men’s eyes met
and clashed in a silent war.
    “By God, you bastard, if you touched this lady, you’ll
be begging me to kill you before I’m through with you!”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Percival.” Despite her
anger at the convict, Sarah stopped Percival’s enraged charge with a hand
against his chest. She did not want to see more violence done, no matter how
much the brute might deserve it.
    “Sarah . . .” He was breathing hard. Fury made the
lines in his face seem even deeper. His stocky figure was poised for immediate
action, his fists clenched at his sides. His hazel eyes bored into hers,
demanding that she step out of his path. Chin lifting slightly, Sarah stood her
ground.
    “I don’t believe I gave you permission to address me
by my given name, Mr. Percival.” She meant to sidetrack him; to her
relief, it worked.
    “Don’t be absurd, girl,” he replied.
“There’s nothing improper about me calling you Sarah. After all,
we’ll be man and wife soon; I was talking to your da about it just the
other day. You’ll soon get used to me calling you by name—and to
calling me John.”
    Percival’s refusal to take no for an answer, added to her
rage over the convict’s lewd insults, brought her temper near the
exploding point again. Ordinarily she was very even-tempered; today she had
been goaded into angry outbursts no fewer than three times. Spine stiffening,
she stared at Percival coldly, her hand dropping from his chest.
    “I have no intention of marrying you, as you well know, Mr.
Percival,” she said, emphasizing the title with icy meaning. “You
and Pa can plan all you like; I’m telling you straight out, I won’t
do it.”
    “Ah, Sarah, girl, you’re just shy.”
Percival’s indulgent tone, coupled with his continued use of her name
after she had requested him not to address her so familiarly, made Sarah grit
her teeth. She was on the verge of saying something she knew she would regret
when he reached out to catch her arm. Sarah shook him off angrily, and when he
looked as though he meant to take hold of her again she backed away. His eyes
narrowed, but he made no move to follow her.
    “You still haven’t told me what
that—convict—did to you.” Percival’s eyes shifted from
her to the man sprawled in the straw.
    Glancing over her shoulder, Sarah saw that, although the man had
fallen back to lie flat on his stomach, his head was turned toward them. His
eyes met hers. In the warm pool of light from the lantern Percival had hung on
a hook beside the stall door she saw that, although his face remained carefully
expressionless, his lids flickered once and then were stilled, as if
deliberately. Sarah knew he realized that this