Her Dearest Enemy by Elizabeth Lane Read Free Book Online Page B

heardabove the storm.
    “We can’t be certain. This is just a likely guess.”He shot her a sidelong glance and met the flash ofher coppery eyes. Framed by the shawl, her pale,classic features reminded him of a Madonna’s. AMadonna with the scruples of a whore and the dispositionof a bobcat, Brandon reminded himself. Andhe had already felt her claws.
    Would she have carried out her threat to ruin hisreputation? Brandon huddled into his hip-lengthsheepskin coat, the pistol cold against his leg. Hellfire,he knew nothing about the woman—whereshe’d come from or what she was doing in a remoteplace like Dutchman’s Creek. For all he knew, thisshow of concern for her brother could be an act. Shecould have encouraged the boy’s relationship withJenny, in the hope of snagging him a rich, pliant littlewife that the two of them could control.
    Whatever her plan, he swore it wasn’t going tosucceed. Once Jenny was safely home, he would gethis lawyer to annul any marriage that might havetaken place. Then he would go ahead with his planto send the girl back east to have her baby.
    Her baby .
    The images hit him like a barrage of body blows.Jenny—his sweet, innocent Jenny, her body swellingwith child; Jenny giving birth in agony, screaming,bleeding, maybe even dying in the process. Lord,she was so small. The birth was bound to be horren-douslydifficult for her.
    And if Jenny died, Brandon vowed, God helphim, whatever the consequences, he would huntWill Smith down and send him straight to hellwhere he belonged.

Chapter Five
    H arriet sat with her fists thrust into the pockets ofthe thick woolen greatcoat Brandon had lent her.Falling snow danced hypnotically before her eyes asthe road wound along the bank of the rushing creek.The wind that fronted the storm had lessened, itsvoice fading to a breathy moan. But even through thecoat’s luxuriant thickness, the cold still bit into herflesh, and worry rested its crushing weight on hershoulders.
    Questions beat at her like black wings. Wherewere Will and Jenny? Were they safe? Was it too lateto stop them from marrying?
    Dear heaven, should they be stopped? Was it rightthat the baby who was her own flesh and blood, aswell as Brandon’s, be raised by strangers, withoutever knowing its true family?
    Early in their journey, before they’d run out ofcivil things to say to each other, Brandon had told herabout his plan to send Jenny back east to give birth.His sister, who’d evidently married well, would keepJenny’s condition a secret and turn the baby over toa church adoption agency. After a year or two of finishingschool, the girl would be introduced to Baltimoresociety, where, in due time, she would choosea suitable husband from among her suitors.
    Suitable . The word rankled like a burr. Will wassuitable. He was honest and kind and hardworking,and he truly seemed to love pert little Jenny. Was it sowrong that they should marry and become a family?
    Struck by a gust of icy wind, Harriet tightened theshawl around her head. What on earth was she thinking?If Brandon’s plan succeeded, her brother wouldbe free of any obligation. He could carry on as if nothinghad happened—go to college, have a successfulcareer, even travel abroad. In time he could marry afine woman, one who’d be a helpmate and companion,not a spoiled little doll who would demand to bepampered and coddled every day of her life.
    With the passing of years the hurt would heal,Harriet promised herself. Will would have other children,beautiful, happy children, to fill his life withlove and laughter. Perhaps, in time, he would evencome to forget that somewhere there was anotherchild with his blood and his features. His firstborn.
    The child he would never know.
    Harriet blinked back a surge of scalding tears. Allher life, she had believed that there was a clear linebetween right and wrong, and that good, moralchoices led to good consequences. But there was nogood choice here—only the leaden weight of oneheartache