Dawn Thompson by The Brotherhood Read Free Book Online

nightstand that had once held the splintered pitcher, he stopped in his tracks.
    “Your abigail . . . has not survived, miss,” he said. “I had not meant to break the news to you this way. I know you have been through a terrible ordeal, and—”
    “You have no idea what it is that I have ‘been through,’ sir,” she snapped. “What of the others—my father . . . the Clements?”
    “I’m sorry,” Joss said, avoiding her eyes. They were riveting. A man could drown in such eyes, even as they were now, spitting blue fire. God, she was beautiful.
    “A-all of them?” she murmured. “How . . . ?”
    Joss took a ragged breath. There was no use prolonging the agony. “You were the sole survivor,” he said. “I was returning home from London when the storm overtook me, and I came upon your carriage bogged down in the drifts. I frightened off a wild dog that had begun to . . .” He couldn’t bear to give a detailed description.
    “I prayed so for something to happen to spoil their plans. . . .” Her voice trailed off just as his had done. It was evident that she was thinking out loud. But what was this now? All lost, and not a tear? What sort of woman was this?
    “The coachman told me the young gentleman was your betrothed . . . that you were on your way to Gretna Green to be wed. Is that so?”
    Her incredible eyes, wreathed with dark lashes, honed in upon him cruelly. “What business is that of yours?” she said. “And where is the coachman? I would have a word with him.”
    “In time,” said Joss. “I have given him lodgings in the servants’ quarters until the storm subsides.”
    “You ought throw him back out in the snow!” she shrilled. “He left us—
left
us there to die!”
    “To fetch help.”
    “Is that what he told you?”
    “You haven’t answered my question,” Joss said. “Were you on your way to be wed?”
    “I do not have to answer to you—or anyone anymore,” she snapped.
    Joss took another step toward her, his expression softened—he hoped. She was frightened. He had not caused her fright, and he was determined that she know he meant her no harm.
    Like lightning, she seized the porcelain basin and menaced him with it. “Come one step closer and I will crown you again!” she warned.
    Joss held up his hands in defeat. “I do not know what I must do to convince you that I mean you no harm,” he said, “or what gave you the idea that you face some sort of threat from me. If I had not brought you here, you would be dead in that coach out there with the rest—”
    “They are
still out there?
” she shrilled.
    “It is impossible to retrieve the . . . bodies until the storm is over,” Joss said. “You are welcome here as long as needs must. I do not know how long that might be. This storm is showing no signs of slacking anytime soon, and the roads are impassable. I shall certainly keep my distance, but we cannot hope to avoid each other altogether. If we are to have peace, a truce is in order, I think. Each time we meet need not end in bloodletting.”
    She let the basin slip from her fingers onto the counterpanebeside her, but she did not replace it on the nightstand. Those incredible almond-shaped eyes were trained on his wounded forehead now. Was that remorse in her bluebell gaze? He wouldn’t count upon it.
    “You frightened me,” she said, in a low murmur. How provocative her lips were when she pouted like that.
    “Evidently,” he said through a humorless chuckle.
    “Well, you did,” she returned haughtily, tossing her long mane. “I didn’t expect to see someone lurking in the shadows out there.”
    “I was hardly lurking,” Joss defended. “I could not trust Grace to stay awake, and I found your coachman standing over you in that bed when I came up to have her report and see how you were faring.”
    Cora gasped.
    Joss nodded.
    “I’m sorry for . . . eh . . .” she said, nodding toward his wounds. “But if you knew what . . . why . . .” She bit her