Outlaw's Angel by Colleen Quinn Read Free Book Online

could do nothing but slide from the saddle with as much dignity as she could muster. Inside, the walls stretched to accommodate the crowd. Pirates and miscreants, gamblers and thieves made up the group. Well-endowed barmaids carried huge tankards of ale, moving with well-practiced rhythm between the tables and chairs. All eyes fell on Marisa as she entered, making her aware of her appearance. Her ivory gown now appeared a dank yellow, the rain having long since ruined the satin material. Her hair lay scattered about her shoulders, in spite of her attempts to knot it, and her face was pale from the rain and chill. She lifted her head and faced them, refusing to look away, until Kyle placed her behind him. The barmaids shrugged to each other; then one, a buxom redhead, sauntered over to Kyle.
    “Wot can I do for ye?”
    Flushing as the woman perused her curiously, Marisa heard the invitation in her voice as the wench smiled at Kyle. The Scotsman smiled back, then gestured to a table in the far corner.
    “That will do. Bring us a meal and some drink.”
    “Surely. But, there is one thing. We have to get payment first. Sorry, love.” She shrugged apologetically, and Kyle nodded.
    “Here. There’s enough for the food and for the night. You can tell your innkeeper to prepare rooms for us while we wait.”
    The barmaid took the pouch he tossed her, astonished as she surveyed the contents. She tucked it into her blouse and nodded, returning a moment later with several large tankards of ale. Ignoring the one placed before her, Marisa’s eyes flitted quickly around the room. There was little possibility for escape; the tavern had but one door and one window. Realistically, she had no idea where they were nor where she could go for help. Her eyes met Kyle’s and he grinned.
    “There is no help for it; you can’t escape. And if you are thinking of asking one of these noble gents for help, please reconsider. That one lad over there…see him, the one with the red scarf?”
    “That young boy?” Marisa saw a youth leaning against the bar, his face still unshaven.
    Kyle nodded. “He escaped from jail just a few weeks ago. The charge was murder. He says he didn’t mean to kill that trollop, but she overcharged him for the night.”
    If he meant to frighten her, he succeeded. Drawing a quick breath, Marisa studied the young boy, amazed to see him finish off an ale, then pull a plump tavern wench into his arms. Wincing, she reached for her ale and drank deeply of the strong brew.
    “The others have an equally quaint history. I do not wish to bore you with the details, only to warn you that such men aren’t to be trusted.”
    “And what of you?” Marisa couldn’t help but ask. She suddenly remembered the story about the Angel….He’d been wanted for murder, for the killing of his own mother.
    “Me?” Kyle laughed. “I’m to be trusted least of all.”
    “Why have you brought me here?”
    “Come now, miss. Show me some of that intelligence that you so foolishly displayed earlier. Why would I bring you here?”
    “Because…no one here would turn you in…for kidnapping me. You are safe.”
    “Precisely,” Kyle nodded. “And because you show an alarming propensity for trouble. As it is, we shall have to take our meal upstairs. Bedraggled as you are, these men haven’t seen a real woman in quite some time. I believe you are close to creating a scene.”
    Marisa glanced up, amazed to see that he was right. Several burly sailors stared bluntly in her direction, while a gambler tried to attract her attention from the card table. Kyle pulled her to her feet, not giving her time enough to think or even attempt to flee, if she had such a thought. He hesitated only long enough to press some sort of a message into the hands of one of his men, a bold Scotsman who seemed more of a friend than merely a follower. Reading the note, the man nodded and slipped out again into the night.
    Kyle led her, without incident, upstairs.