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

country lass who did not ride? And they were to travel to London? This was too absurd to contemplate. Nicholas ran impatient fingers through his hair. “What do you mean you do not ride?” He knew his voice was getting louder, but his frustration was rising as well.
    “That is it. I do not ride,” she repeated staunchly.
    “Do you mean you ‘do not’ ride—or you ‘will not’ ride?”
    She squared her shoulders, but did not look him in the eye. “It matters not. The result is the same.”
    “It matters much. Nevertheless, whether you will not ride or do not ride, we will not go unless you get up on a horse.” He picked up a lumpy bundle and waved it at her.
    With obvious reluctance, she raised her gaze to his. Along with the determination he expected to see, her eyes carried a mixture of sadness and desperation. He waited for her to speak, but she did not. In the silence, his exasperation grew. Would the wench continue to look at him like a wounded doe, unmovable and soundless as a statue?
    At least she did not simper and bat her eyelashes at him. He was rarely able to resist such acts of deliberate coquetry. Nicholas’s shoulder throbbed from the tension. He tried to relax and sound practical as he spoke. “Do you know how heavy this will be after walking for a mere hour? And then two? Three?” He dropped the bundle to the ground. It landed with a thud.  
    She looked away.  
    “But ’twill not tax us to load it on a horse.” Cupping her chin, he pulled her gaze to his. “And no cat.”
    “You are mistaken.”
    Even though she did not say what he wanted to hear, Nicholas felt his approval grow. He disliked those who would not stand up for themselves.  
    But on this matter he would not budge. He would not complicate their travels with the addition of a cat, no matter how small. Nicholas scowled.
    In answer, Katherine clutched the little beast protectively. Her eyes lost their sadness and flashed with new resolve. In the thin moonlight, she glowed with the ferocity of a lioness. “I will leave the bundles if I must, but Montford will come.”
    “Montford?” He hoped his voice sounded more curious than surprised. “’Tis an interesting name for a cat. How came you by it?”
    “’Twas the family who lived here before the war. I have seen it in books and other places.”
    Nicholas felt oddly touched by this memorial to his family and knew not what to say. In the short silence that followed, he heard soft footfalls from behind. Letting go of Katherine’s chin, he thrust her behind him as he spun around to face a tousled, sleepy-eyed young man wielding a pitchfork in his direction.
    “Jeremy?” Katherine hissed loudly, stepping out from behind Nicholas. “I had hoped not to wake you.”
    Nicholas pushed her back behind him.
    “It is quite all right,” she whispered to Nicholas, shrugging off his hand and stepping out from behind him again.
    The boy looked at her uncertainly then thrust the pitchfork at Nicholas. “Who is he?”
    “’Tis of no importance,” she answered.
    “Seems mighty important to me, you being out here with him in the middle of the night.” He glared at Nicholas and took a step forward, the sharp tines of the fork edging closer. “I would know why he is here.”
    Dressed roughly, the boy appeared to be a servant, probably a groom. What right had he to question Katherine? Or anyone else for that matter? Yet, by the way he held the pitchfork, it did not appear the lad would give up easily. Nicholas clenched his jaw. If the boy wanted a fight, why, then he would be pleased to give him one.
    In one fluid move, Nicholas leapt to the side, positioning himself between the groom and Katherine, while whipping out his pistol.
    The boy lunged toward him.
    Nicholas jumped back, still holding Katherine. She bumped into his injured shoulder. He groaned, but kept his pistol aimed at the groom.
    The gun glinted, cold and lethal in the weak moonlight.
    “Both of you must stop this,”