Run Wild by Shelly Thacker Read Free Book Online Page B

her eye, already irritated from grit and dust, now brimmed with tears.
    Young Tucker turned to look her way just as she lifted her head—and she saw a flicker of something unexpected in his freckled face.
    Sympathy. Regret.
    Instinctively, she made a decision.
    Instead of blinking the tears back, she allowed them to spill over. A single droplet slid down her cheek, cutting a path through the grime. Then another.
    She added a dramatic little tremor of her lower lip. Then she lowered her lashes as if ashamed to have him catch her crying. Just for good measure, she sniffled, softly.
    When she slowly glanced up again, blinking, chin quivering, she met the lad’s gaze. Tucker’s expression was strained, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looked all but ready to leap from his seat and cut her free from her bonds.
    Yet a moment later, he abruptly turned around.
    She frowned. Duty, apparently, had won out over sympathy. Drat.
    A privately amused chuckle drifted over from the other side of the cart. Slicing her gaze that way, she found the rogue regarding her with a mocking grin on his bruised, bloodied face, his broad shoulders fairly shaking with silent laughter.
    Warmth flooded her cheeks. She lifted her chin, looked away, and wished a pox upon him. She wasn’t interested in his cynical opinions. It didn’t matter that
he
wasn’t taken in by her performance.
    Because it
did
appear that she had made an impression on the young marshalman.
    Every time Tucker glanced her way now, she caught an unmistakable softness in his freckled face. More than that. Pity.
    And pity might very well prove helpful.
    She slanted another look at the rogue, smiling sweetly.
Laugh all you want, you overgrown oaf. We’ll see who’s laughing when
I’m
free and
you’re
still in custody
.
    Satisfied with her progress for the moment, she settled back against the cart’s wooden side, admiring the clear blue sky overhead. The day didn’t seem quite so miserable anymore.
    Except for the way her stomach kept growling. She winced at the gnawing hunger. It had been... by the graces, how long
had
it been since she’d had a full meal?
    The few hors d’oeuvres she had nicked at Lady Hammond’s assembly last night hardly counted. She had circulated through the throng only briefly before making her way toward the silver in the sideboard—because she hadn’t had an invitation.
    But then, she never had an invitation. Amazing how the right gown and a few airs could gain one access to all sorts of places.
    Sneaking into last night’s
soiree
had been a foolish risk, though. She should have left Staffordshire a fortnight ago. Four months working one district was too long. But the elegant country estates offered such easy booty, and she needed only another hundred pounds to have enough.
    Enough to leave England behind forever. To start a new life. To finally be safe.
    Seeing her dream almost within reach, she had been too eager last night, too emotional. Emotion always made her careless. One foolish, amateurish mistake... and Lady Hammond had caught her and immediately turned her in.
    For stealing a half-dozen shrimp forks.
    As if someone like Lady Hammond would even
miss
a half-dozen shrimp forks.
    Sam grimaced. It was so blasted unfair. She could easily do far more damage if she chose to, but she never took more than a trifling amount from any one person. Partly because greed was the fastest way to gain unwanted attention and land one’s neck in a noose... but mainly because she refused to cause anyone hardship or distress.
    Even someone like Lady Hammond.
    It was a fine line she walked, but one she would not cross.
    Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about food, or her foolish mistake yesterday.
    Or her dreams for tomorrow.
    The cart lurched and tilted as it rolled southward, but her sleepless night coupled with the thick heat soon made her drowsy. She was distantly aware of the horses breathing noisily, their hooves plodding now as