Unicorn Vengeance by Claire Delacroix Read Free Book Online

not what path to pursue if it did. Indeed, she had not thought further than this, and her mind scurried to devise some reasonable course of action.
    She felt him draw closer, heard the tread of his boot alone, despite all the other sounds in the square. Her mouth went dry. Feigning ignorance of his presence, Genevieve bent lower over the lute and played, though the tune grew stilted beneath her trembling fingers.
    What should she do? What could she do? Naught could she say in such a public place, and she could hardly take her vengeance upon this spot. Avenging Alzeu was well and good, but too late Genevieve considered the possible repercussions should she manage to accomplish the deed. Should she take her retaliation publicly, no doubt she would pay for her crime. No taste had Genevieve for languishing in a rat-infested prison for her revenge. There was indeed no need to make her guilt readily clear, but in a public square there would be no escape from observation.
    Imperative ‘twas that she should find some way to draw the murderer to a secluded corner where neither he nor any other might guess her intent.
    Aye. Perfect sense it made, but how to accomplish such a goal? Naught came to mind as she thought furiously, and her tune was drawing to a close. Another tread on the cobbles brought him yet closer, and her fingers quivered in anticipation.
    â€˜Twas now or never. Something she must contrive. Genevieve finished her tune with a flourish and took a deep breath before she dared to glance up.
    Her gaze immediately locked with one that was pale beyond pale. He stood motionless, watching her like a hunter about to pounce upon his prey. Something else there was in his expression, an intensity she could not fathom, though indeed, the awareness that he watched her alone fired her blood in a most curious way. Genevieve’s heart fairly stopped, and suddenly it seemed that the autumn air held less of a bite.
    A coin hit the cobbles before her, cast by another onlooker, but Genevieve could not tear her gaze away from his to retrieve it. Trapped she felt. Stalked and cornered, though truly she had thought the reverse to be the case. Had she not sought him out? Was it not she who was the hunter? A shiver crept down her spine as the awareness of what kind of man this was she so boldly eyed, and the hairs stood up at the base of her neck.
    Still she could not look away. Though Genevieve felt the crowd of onlookers drift away, she cared naught. The only audience she wanted remained motionless.
    So impassive were his features that Genevieve almost fidgeted beneath his perusal. ‘Twas as though he were wrought of stone, not flesh and blood, and trepidation made her skin creep. Impossible it seemed that this man could not see to the very recesses of her heart and know the very reason for her presence, though she had breathed a word of it to none.
    Could he know? A wave of panic swept over her. And what would he do if he did guess her objective? Genevieve eyed him warily and was reassured naught by what she saw.
    â€˜Twas a dangerous man who stood a dozen paces away from her. A man who would not be readily brought down. A man who had killed at least once before. Genevieve felt a niggle of doubt of the wisdom of her path.
    Had she truly the skill or the will to fulfill her oath? Genevieve’s spirits sank before she caught herself.
    He had come back, she reminded herself resolutely. She knew not what had drawn him, but he was here, and that was no small thing. ‘Twas a victory of some measure, and an opportunity that could not be overlooked. Genevieve had to ensure that she did not lose him again. Too far away was he for conversation, but as she held his regard, Genevieve sensed he waited for something from her. Why else would he remain?
    On impulse, Genevieve smiled.
    He straightened abruptly, but did not turn away. Well it seemed to her that his eyes grew brighter, though but a moment sooner she would not have thought