Pale Moon Rider by Marsha Canham Read Free Book Online Page A

owlish eyes were now focused intently on the general area between her neck and knees.
    This was one of those times, she hoped desperately, when beauty had its purpose. It had been at Roth’s insistence that their meetings take place as far away from the public eye as possible. His obsession with catching Captain Starlight and his conviction that the highwayman had eyes and ears everywhere—even in the regimental headquarters—made it imperative to avoid becoming the objects of anyone’s curiosity. Coventry was a large city of some seventeen thousand inhabitants, most of whom kept up the pretense of a London society, with those of the upper class thriving on gossip and speculation and eager to spread rumors of romantic liaisons. Since the outset of the war between France and England , regiments of local militia had been conscripted and trained against a possible threat of invasion, and nothing tickled the gossips more than seeing virtuous young ladies being swept off their feet by the uniformed gallants. By tomorrow, at least one of these four leering lords would be sober enough to remember a tall, slim Française with striking blond hair and startling blue eyes engaged in a secret tryst at the Fox and Hound Inn. And if he did not move quickly to prevent it, someone would be able to identify Colonel Bertrand Roth by the equally memorable flaming redness of his hair and the accompanying hot flush of crimson that flooded his face.
    With a softly snarled curse, he snatched up the fallen cloak and draped it back around Renée’s shoulders. Grabbing her by the elbow, he ushered her across the room and out the door. He glared back into the far corner of the room which caused the four gentlemen to avert their eyes, though they were not sufficiently chastised out of nudging and winking among themselves. One even took the liberty of clearing his throat as Mrs. Ogilvie returned with an armload of bottles, complimenting her on the long-standing tradition of discretion at her fine establishment.
    “That was extremely foolish, my dear,” Roth hissed as he led her into the shadows of the outer hallway.
    “I am sure I do not know what you mean, m’sieur.”
    “Do you not?” He swung her roughly around and pushed her back into the corner, crowding in close with his body. “I am not entirely familiar with French manners, but in any language, a blatant challenge demands an equally blatant response.”
    Renée tried to twist herself free, but his hands were on her shoulders, pinning her flat against the wall. “Let me go. Let me go at once, do you hear?”
    “My hearing is quite excellent, I assure you. It is your ability to grasp and understand a situation that appears to be in some doubt, so if you will bear with me, Mademoiselle d’Anton, I will repeat this only one more time.” He pressed his mouth next to her ear so she could feel the moist heat of each whispered word tingle ominously down the length of her neck. “Should anything— anything —go wrong between now and the fourteenth, I will not hesitate to clap you in irons and see you dragged before the courts to stand trial alongside your brother as an accomplice to attempted murder. Moreover, I will personally choose your gaol cell, my sweet, to be the one with the fattest rats, the sourest stink, and the filthiest guards to seek your company at night.”
    “Take your hands off me,” she gasped. “Take them off or I shall scream!”
    “Will you indeed?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. “Then by all means—scream away.”
    Renée opened her mouth to draw a breath, but before she could do anything with it, Roth’s left hand shifted upward and something hard stabbed her in the tender junction of her neck and jaw, just below the ear. Once the initial shearing of white-hot pain had cut off every other thought she possessed, his thumb gouged deeper into the cluster of nerves and she found she could not move, could not blink, could not even breathe through the