The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) by Barbara Devlin Read Free Book Online Page A

But I pled your cause, and the individual will surrender the item in question.”
    “So you know the criminal, and you are acquainted.” It was a statement, not a query. “And you have seen the brooch?”
    “Yes—no.” Daphne bowed her head. “That is to say, I know of him, of his existence, and I do not doubt his word. What happened is out of character and will not occur again.”
    “And what of justice?” At her offhand rejoinder, he tamped his temper; else he might frighten the artless girl into silence. “What of the rule of law? I would have the villain arrested.”
    “You will have your precious keepsake.” She swallowed hard. “Is that not enough?”
    “So it would seem, for now.” He counted to three. “And what news of your father?”
    “I have had none.” She sighed. “Draw rein, here.”
    “Where?” Aside from a rudimentary shack in which he would not stable his horse, as it appeared on the verge of collapse, there remained only an open field. “Are we to walk the rest of the way, to the house?”
    “Quiet, Sir Dalton.” She handed him the basket, after he disembarked. “This is their home, and they might hear you.”
    “You can’t be serious.” He lowered her from the saddle, even as he scrutinized the dilapidated structure. “Are you telling me someone lives here?”
    “Yes.” She snatched the basket from his grasp. “And I would thank you not to make disparaging comments about our neighbors or their unfortunate accommodations. Not everyone can afford a Mayfair mansion, and if you cannot hold your tongue, then you may wait outside.”
    Duly chastised, Dalton followed the beautiful governor’s daughter on her charitable sojourn, and his respect for her grew by leaps and bounds with each passing hour. At one stop, she washed dishes and swept floors, while he chopped firewood. At another destination, she cleaned and bandaged a wound, as he cleared refuse. But what struck him was Daphne’s genuine care and concern for those she considered her responsibility.
    No petition seemed too unreasonable, to her. Whatever the townsfolk asked of her, the charming young woman either fulfilled their request or promised to do so, as soon as possible. And the citizens adored the incomparable Miss Harcourt. By the time he steered his mount for Courtenay Hall, with the source of his quandary nestled between his thighs and humming a flirty little ditty, he knew not what to do next.
    “It was awfully kind of you to indulge the widow Cartwright’s boys.” She grinned, as he handed her to the graveled drive. “And I am so sorry little Amy Oldman puked on your beautiful coat, but you were a good sport.”
    “No worries, as my young niece has done the same thing, on occasions too numerous to count.” Without thought or consideration of the consequences, he toyed with a wayward curl and then caressed the crest of her ear. “And I quite enjoyed our day, Miss Daphne.”
    “As did I.” At her brilliant smile, his breath caught in his chest. “Must confess I have never found my chores so entertaining, as I did in your company. Never would I have guessed you were so handy with an axe, though I feared you might sacrifice a few fingers while you toiled, as you cannot be accustomed to hard labor.”
    “Very funny.” In play, he tapped the tip of her nose. “I would have you know that commanding a ship is no easy task, and I am often required to soil my hands.”
    “Is that so?” He found her answering giggle far more intoxicating than the most skilled doxy, as he realized, in that instant, he wanted Daphne Harcourt. “Then I suppose you are not interested in joining my family for dinner, tomorrow night, in appreciation of your efforts.”
    “Now I would not say that.” For some unfathomable exercise in foolishness, Dalton bent his head and claimed a quick but lethal buss. Again, to his indefinable confusion, the earth beneath his feet rocked, the world tilted on end, and molten fire scorched a path