Seducing the Spy by Sandra Madden Read Free Book Online Page A

and prestige he sought were as elusive as Meggie’s werewolves.
    But Cameron refused to accept life as an innkeeper. He had been meant for more; he knew it, felt it.
    How he had studied the nobles who stopped for the night at the Thatchers’ inn. For years, he’d observed the manner in which they walked and talked. He had studied the manner in which they behaved with their women. As a result, Cameron could be as noble as any nobleman. He’d mastered their studied indifference, modulated tones, and affected gestures. He knew how they thought, what they dreamed, why they enjoyed the sporting life. He meant to walk among them one day.
    However, if he did not overcome his present circumstances, Cameron dreaded the consequence. To lose his commission and find himself a Cotswold innkeeper would be an intolerable fate. He was meant for a loftier station in life.
    Cameron rested on a bench by the thatched dwelling housing the wash house. Those who lived and worked within the crumbling walls of Dochas had readily accepted him as a traveling bard who had the misfortune to be mistaken for a werewolf and wounded by the mistress they all adored.
    As he sat alone, lost in his thoughts, he was greeted on this misty afternoon with cheerful smiles and concerned inquiries about his health.
    Reaffirming his resolve to restore his health as soon as possible, he stood up and started back toward the castle and the stone steps that gave him astonishing pain whether walking up or down.
    At the sound of the first retort, he wasn’t certain if he had heard musket fire. By the second, he knew.
    Deirdre held the door for him as if he were an old man - which irritated him. “Was that musket fire I heard?”
    She shrugged and gave an aggrieved sigh. “It is Mistress Meggie.”
    “Is she shooting at werewolves?”
    “She wants to perfect her aim.”
    “Someone is bound to get hurt,” he muttered. Cameron turned around and headed for the gate. Despite the pain of each step, he pressed on. If he were one day to join the society of gentlemen, he must behave as one at all times. Any gentleman worth a fig would stop Meggie at once and protect the innocent.
    He found her in the rocky valley just outside the walls of the castle. She had placed an assortment of pots and jugs on a boulder to serve as targets. At least no humans were in danger.
    “Good day, Mistress Meggie.”
    She greeted him with a glowing smile, a smile that put the sun to shame. A smile that nearly melted Cameron’s heart. “Look at ye out for a stroll. Your leg must be on the mend.”
    “Aye. My thanks to ye.” He looked out to the boulder. “Are ye after werewolves or jugs?”
    “Neither. I am improving my aim with the musket.”
    “Too late.”
    Her chin jerked up. “Ye may either help me or leave me.”
    It was in his best interest to help the duchess. “If ye would stand with your feet wider apart, the retort might not knock ye down each time.”
    “Like this?” She spread her feet apart.
    He shook his head. “Your arms aren’t long enough to shoulder a musket properly.”
    “Do ye suggest I use bow and arrow?”
    “Just who is your target? Werewolves?”
    “Englishmen.”
    “If the English attack Dochas, you will need more than musket balls and arrows.”
    She tilted her head to one side, regarding him suspiciously. “Do the English frighten you?”
    “Nay. You do. Your innocence.”
    White lightning flashed in her eyes as she tossed her head and the mass of flaming hair that fell past her shoulders. “If you have nothing to contribute, leave me.”
    Cameron would like to contribute ... but forcing himself upon her would not be the thing. And standing in one spot for so long had taken its toll. He could no longer feel his wounded leg.
    Meggie spun away from him. He limped to stand behind her, circling his arms around her slender body, engulfing her, steadying her hands upon the musket, breathing in her lavender-scented hair.
    How could this radiant tousle of