Perfect Timing by Catherine Anderson Read Free Book Online

water from her sopping braid before attempting to dry her person. Her teeth were still clacking when she cautiously opened the door to peer out into the other room.
    “Hurry it up. I don’t have all day.” The plump guard held out a bundle of orange cloth atop which lay a small white towel, a comb, a tiny, long-handled brush, and a small, capped container that squished under Ceara’s fingertips. “Once in your cell, you can brush your teeth and get the tangles out.”
    Still shivering, Ceara quickly donned some white underwear and then the orange garments, which consisted of loose-fitting trews and an overlarge léine. She was grateful to at least cover her nakedness. On her feet, she wore blue slippers made of rough, parchmentlike material with stretchy thread stitched around the opening to keep them snug over her instep and heel. As she followed the woman into what was called the women’s cell block, she wondered where they had put her gown and undergarments. First she’d lost her hat and satchel, which held all her precious belongings. Now they had taken her clothes.
    Enclosures lined either side of a wide passage. As Ceara walked ahead of the guard, she glimpsed several other females peering out at her from behind bars. They all wore the same orange clothes, but that was all that she had time to notice in passing.
    The guard pushed a button on the wall to open Ceara’s cell door. The slide of the bars gave Ceara a start. How could something so heavy move so easily without anyone pushing on it? Perplexed, she walked obediently inside, her heart catching when she heard the steel barrier slam shut behind her.
    “All the comforts of home,” the guard said with a laugh. “Sink, toilet, and cot. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to stay long.”
    Ceara sank numbly onto the narrow bed. Accustomed to the softness of moss-filled mattresses, she wished fervently to be back at the manor. Coming forward in time to save Harrigan wives had been a fool’s mission. She’d been stupid to think she’d be welcomed with open arms, or that Sir Quincy would be grateful that she had sacrificed so much to be here.
    “What did they charge you with?”
    Ceara turned to see the older woman with yellow hair standing in the next cell, her wrists hooked limply over a horizontal dividing bar. She looked diminished in the loose orange clothes. Her face was now devoid of false color, her pale blue eyes barely noticeable, and her lips a natural pink. Damp strands of hair the color of old leather dangled limply over her forehead.
    “They say I committed a B and E,” Ceara replied.
    “Breaking and entering? Whoo! You don’t look the type. I had you pegged as a working girl.”
    Weariness lay on Ceara’s shoulders like leaden weights. “Pray tell, what is a working girl?”
    The woman laughed, the sound raspy. “Ah, come on, honey. It’s plain as the nose on your face that burglary is a sideline for you. I saw that getup you had on. Pretty smart of you, actually. I’ll bet all those skirts and laces turn men on. The harder they have to work for something, the more they’re willing to pay.” She cocked her head. “You’re a pretty little thing even without makeup. Does the fresh, innocent act work good for you? What’s your usual take each night?”
    The questions were incomprehensible to Ceara, who was too exhausted, confused, and frightened to puzzle them out. She tossed her towel and jail-issue toiletries on the foot of the cot, then leaned sideways to curl up on the rock-hard mattress. The gray wool blanket was scratchy against her skin. An acrid smell burned her nose. She supposed it was a cleaning agent of some sort, but definitely not lye, which was most often used at home. Tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked, trying her best to get rid of them.
    “Not very friendly, are you?” The woman grunted. “No point in wallowing in your sorrows, honey. You’ll be out on the streets again before you know it. You got the