The Bastard by Brenda Novak Read Free Book Online Page B

bed, wondering what he would have done with his mystery woman even if he’d found her. She was the focus of his fury, but she was the least of his problems. The greater injury had been caused earlier, by his mother. But whether his mother was telling the truth or simply twisting the knife she’d buried in his back long ago, he could not let the knowledge of his father cause him to lose sight of his goal. He’d come too far, worked too hard. He would one day captain his own frigate, and he’d do it without benefit of money or connection. He’d beat the odds stacked against him in favor of men like Lieutenant Cunnington, whose titled father had exerted great influence on behalf of his son, and climb the ladder on his own.
    Ability would be enough. It had to be.
    But he’d still like to throttle the woman who’d kneed him in the goods.

Chapter 5

    Something cold and wet awakened Jeannette just before dawn. She huddled deeper into what she imagined to be her bed until the smell of urine, rising from the gutter at her feet, reminded her that she was far from home. Then movement and a high-pitched whine made her gasp.
    She sat up. A small black dog with curly hair nosed about the refuse surrounding her, apparently hoping for something to eat more appetizing than rotting vegetable peels and animal droppings. But Jeannette doubted he’d find much for breakfast here, at least anything that didn’t stink.
    “Hungry, are you?” she asked with a yawn. Her own stomach growled at the thought of food, but the filthy alley behind the Stag made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.
    At her words, the dog cowered away, then ventured closer, sniffing at the oversized boots on her feet.
    “I won’t hurt you,” she coaxed. “Come here.” Reaching out to pet his shaggy coat, Jeannette wondered about the time. After her unnerving episode with Lieutenant Treynor, she had dressed and hidden in the alley, in case he came searching for her. But no one had disturbed the miserable hours that followed.
    Jeannette grimaced. Dade’s clothes were stiff with seawater and old sweat. And she was so cold! In the panic of her escape, she hadn’t thought to steal a more substantial coat than Dade’s threadbare jacket, though she knew several better ones hung, temptingly close, on the rack inside the inn.
    The dog wagged his tail as Jeannette ran her hand slowly down its back. “Poor thing, you’re nothing but bones.”
    She stood on cramped legs and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill. She had to do something about her hair. It hardly looked boyish hanging down her back almost to her waist.
    The kitchen of the Stag backed up to the alley, but it had been closed and locked by the time Jeannette sought refuge among the weeds and garbage that thrived in the narrow, muddy roadway. Now the door stood open, teasing her and the hungry dog with the smell of frying bacon.
    Mouth watering, Jeannette crept closer. That the black dog watched with his tail between his legs and didn't venture to follow gave her no confidence, but she had to do something .
    Hugging the inn’s outer wall, she peered in the opening. A short man with a thick neck was cracking eggs into a skillet, humming to himself as he worked. Next to him, on a long deal table covered with flour, stood a butcher’s block of wood from which protruded the handles of several knives.
    Scissors would have been preferable, but Jeannette dared not take the time to search for something she wasn’t likely to find, at least very close at hand. Stealing a knife out from under the nose of the Stag’s cook would be challenging enough.
    Selecting a stone from the muddy ooze created by numerous feet tramping in and out the back door, Jeannette threw the pebble inside, down the hall leading to the front of the tavern.
    “Damn dog, I’ll kill ye one day,” the inn’s chef muttered, and thundered after the noise as though he meant it.
    Jeannette darted inside, grabbed a knife, and hurried