Sorceress by Lisa Jackson Read Free Book Online

an ox,” their mother, Lenore, had often muttered under her breath. No amount of shaming or locking away or forced prayers had dampened Bryanna’s spirit or destroyed her independence.
    And so she’d ridden away before Morwenna could get word to their brother Kelan of Penbrooke, before she’d been able to persuade Bryanna to take a guard and a companion . . . and . . . oh, for the love of Morrigu. ’Twas too late. Closing her eyes and dropping to her knees on the cold stone floor, she whispered a quick prayer for her sister’s safety. Then, fighting back the uncertainty that nagged at her, she rose, genuflected at the cross mounted high on the chapel wall, and hastened outside to the thickening mist.
    He would be waiting.
    Morwenna had never been one to doubt herself, but never had she felt forced to lie to those closest to her.
    She rounded the corner of the chapel quickly and gasped at the sight of him leaning against the wall, one shoulder propped against the smooth stones. How ironic, she thought, that he chose to meet here in the shadow of the chapel, this devil of a man.
    They did not speak.
    There was no need for words.
    They’d said enough already.
    She handed him her pouch, the coins jingling within the worn leather. She was turning away, when, quick as an asp striking, he reached forward and encircled her wrist with his good hand. The other arm remained at his side, still stiff from a wound he’d received while trying to track the killer who had terrorized Castle Calon.
    “Will this then be enough?” he hissed. “If I am to do your bidding, will that mean that at last my debt to you has been paid?”
    She thought for a second of all the lies, all the betrayal, all the anger and lives lost because of this man. Looking toward the shadows of the chapel, she knew his list of sins was long. He had beaten his own brother and left him at death’s door, though he’d recovered since then, with Morwenna’s care. Carrick’s charms were so enthralling that he had even seduced Morwenna herself years ago, teasing her into a passion, then abandoning her before dawn.
    Morwenna longed to end all ties with this blackheart. And yet, he was the only man with the strength and courage to assure her sister’s safety. “Just do as promised.” Keeping her voice low, she withdrew her hand and stepped backward, creating distance between them. “ ’Tis all I ask.”
    “For now.”
    “Forever.”
    His smile flashed in the darkness. A crooked slash of white that accused her of the lie. “You cannot trust me, any more than I can trust you.”
    “Go to hell,” she spat.
    “Is that not where I am already?”
    She was unmoved. “Mayhap.” Steeling herself, she stepped toward him and stared into his handsome, shadowed face. “But ’tis a hell of your own making, is it not?”
    She turned again and hastened back to the keep. Silently praying and hoping beyond hope that her husband had not roused, she half ran through the garden and into the entrance near the kitchen. Already boys scurried about gathering firewood. Some of the cows were making noise, their udders full, their bellies empty as they waited for the milkmaids.
    Morwenna hurried up the back staircase, knowing deep in her soul that she’d just made a deal with the devil.
    Once again the woman appeared to him . . . and he wasn’t aware of how much time had passed between her visits. Had it been minutes, or was it hours, mayhap even days. Each time Gavyn would try to call out to her, but it was no use, his voice failed him, and he was quiet, falling deeper into a wave of darkness after the deadly umbra that had been following her dragged him down.
    Be wary, he thought, though he could not speak, and as the visions passed his sleep was light, thin as parchment. He was vaguely aware of whispered voices all around him, aware of the pain in his shoulder, as searing as a white-hot blade thrust into his flesh.
    And then cool hands.
    The woman of his dreams?
    Gently she