Out of the Dark by Jennifer Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

both hands and every rock-hard, aching muscle he possessed to hold the mare. The buggy bumped over road ridges. Skidding, swaying, almost tipping, it skirted the ditch. It rocked violently then shuddered to a halt.
    Springing down at once, Lucien lunged for the mare’s head. The bit was barely in his hand before the first horseman jumped the ditch and clattered across the road. Others boiled after him, shouting and cursing as they saw the obstacle in their way. They reined around it in clouds of dirt and gravel. Brief and noisy moments later, they were gone.
    “Stop them!” Anne-Marie called out to him as she stood upright in the buggy. “You’ve got to stop them.”
    “What do you suggest?” he demanded. “Even if I had a mount and could chase them down, they are unlikely to listen to reason. That cat of yours scared them senseless. They won’t stop until he’s no longer alive to remind them.”
    She stared at him with horror in her face. An instant later, she whirled to clamber from the wagon. Jerking up her skirts, she sprinted into the woods after the riders.
    Using every vicious and profane phrase he had ever heard, Lucien dragged the mare by main strength to a sapling beside the road and lashed the reins around it with a hard jerk. He leaped to the carriage to seize his sword cane, and then lunged after Anne-Marie.
    He might have lost her if he had not heard her crying out to her pet. She was that fleet, had that much of a head start. Incredibly, the panther was answering her calls; he could be heard yowling far off.
    It seemed the animal was circling back. His plaintive cries were definitely coming closer. The dogs were following, baying like the hounds of hell.
    By the time Lucien reached Anne-Marie, the great night-black animal was gliding through the trees. Panting, sides heaving, it streaked to her and dropped into a crouch at her feet. She bent over it, murmuring reassurance.
    There was only one thing to be done. Stationing himself in front of the girl and the great cat, Lucien drew his sword cane and tossed the outer cover aside. He slashed the blade through the air to limber his arm and then set his feet. As the dogs burst from its cover, he swung to face them.
    They came from three directions. With dripping muzzles and the hot, glazed eyes of the chase they charged the cat. Lucien struck right and left with the flat of the sword, a flurry of solid blows to black-and-tan backs and flanks.
    The dogs danced this way and that, trying to get past. Finding it impossible, they backed and sidled and turned in circles before charging once more. Met by strokes that whipped the air and carried a sharp edge, they cowered with sharp yelps and whimpers, quailing before slinking back out of reach.
    In the midst of the battle, the horsemen came thundering up. Their hallos and yells grew hoarse with outrage.
    “What in hell’s goin ’ on here!”
    Lucien barely glanced at the riders. Voice slicing in its hard command, he shouted, “Call off your dogs!”
    “Like hell! Get out of the way!” The spokesman was a burly man with the rust-red hair of Ireland, clothes of a gentleman, and accents of a dirt farmer.
    “To take the cat, you’ll have to take me.” Lucien’s face was set and his eyes glittered with challenge. “And then explain it to Mademoiselle Decoulet .”
    The men looked from him to Anne-Marie where she stood above the panther with her bonnet hanging down her back by its stings, her dress ripped by briars, and her hair loose about her shoulders. They were not cruel men, nor were they unreasonable when the fire began to die out of their blood. Shifting in their saddles, wiping sweaty brows, they talked in low tones among themselves. It was plain to see their greater uneasiness was centered in the big cat which lay among them, flicking its tail and regarding them with wary alertness.
    “It ain’t natural.” The mutter came from the rear of the semi-circle of horsemen. The comment was echoed by