The Raven's Revenge by Gina Black Read Free Book Online Page A

his wounded arm.
    He craved revenge .
    Revenge for his father’s impoverished and ignominious death in Holland. Revenge for the loneliness of growing up on his own in foreign lands. Revenge against those who had changed their clothing, religion, and loyalty with the tides of politics, and had therefore lost nothing.
    He rubbed the muscles on his arm below the bandage. In exacting his revenge, he’d taken the coats from those turncoats, and the rest of their clothing as well. He’d taken their dignity and gifted them with a fine humiliation, at least for the nonce. And he’d had a good laugh.
    But that wasn’t enough. His blood still ran hot with the need for vengeance. He needed a better target. Bigger and more appropriate. More satisfying. With Cromwell dead and declared a traitor, he’d have to find a man who’d thought he could get away with such treachery.
    Someone like Gerald Welles. After all, Welles was in possession of Ashfield.
    But not for long. Nicholas scowled.
    Tonight he’d be on his way to London, traveling with the man’s daughter. Nicholas would have in his grasp the means to reclaim his patrimony. Plus, he’d be snatching Katherine and the estate from the clutches of his childhood enemy, Finch. A fine revenge, indeed. And a highly satisfying turn of events.
    Better yet, he hadn’t had to lift a finger to set this in motion.
    Nicholas’s lips pulled into a tight smile. Fate. Kismet. He’d been introduced to the concept during his time in the East. Yes, fate must be providing him with the means to achieve his goal. Just as it had to be a sign that Katherine A. Welles, ministering angel and the instrument of his retribution, wore his old lucky piece around her neck.
    There was no question his luck had changed the moment he met her.

CHAPTER FOUR

    “KATHERINE?”  
    Nicholas’s hushed voice echoed loudly in the night. He’d come early so he could take a good look at his old home. In the scant illumination of the crescent moon, he could see little had changed, though it seemed so much smaller and less grand than the Ashfield of his memory.
    Then he saw her. In her dark hooded cloak, she’d blended in with the blackness. As she emerged from the shadows and walked toward him, the moon glinted off her forehead. She carried two bundles and cradled something in her arms.
    “You are on time,” she whispered, dropping her satchels.
    He could see, now, she carried a very small cat.
    He nodded, watching the moonlight play on her upturned face.
    “I cannot help thinking,” she scratched the feline behind the ears, “’tis too soon for you to be afoot.”
    He smiled. “I am quite ready, I assure you. I have no interest in spending any more time confined to that cottage. No, ’tis best we saddle up and be on the road quickly.”
    Katherine frowned. “But you do not have a horse.”
    “You are right,” Nicholas said. “So ’tis a good thing we are here at your stables.”
    Katherine nodded. “We are to walk.”
    “Walk?” he raised an eyebrow. “No, we will not walk. Our progress would be so slow they would come upon us before the morrow. And yes, you are right, I am not recovered well enough to walk for several long days, but I am quite well enough to ride a horse.”
    “Oh.” She was still frowning.
    That did not bode well.
    “So we will quietly go inside the stables, and you will help me pick a horse.”
    “But that would be stealing.”
    “Do you not live here?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Are these not your horses?”
    “I suppose in a way they are.”
    “So you will accompany me into the stables, and we will select two suitable mounts and see they are returned at some point in the future.”
    She looked away from him. “No. I will not.”
    He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Katherine, you must be reasonable. Do you know how far it is to London?”
    “’Tis a good distance, and will take several days on foot I have no doubt. But, you see, I do not ride.”
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