Capture The Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

inquiry. As terrible as was his French, his Flemish had been barely recognizable. Madeline’s innocent offer of help had led to nothing short of a little boy’s frustrated tantrum, during which he’d claimed the ability to read three languages and had proven his mastery of Spanish—a litany of curses and distasteful sexual phrases.
    “You may kneel.” The priest made the sign of the cross above their heads and said, “ In Domu Dei iniuriam hanc Emendare vinimus .”
    “Hold it a dad-blamed minute,” Brazos snapped.
    He’s changed his mind , Madeline thought. He won’t go through with it. I never should have told Father Pearson that we’d made a child together. I could tell that made Sinclair mad. Mary Smithwick, you’re a fool !
    Brazos’s slow drawl brimmed with annoyance. “No Latin, Padre. I’ve had enough foreign words for a lifetime. In fact, I’ve had all the foreign food and foreign drink and foreign land and foreigners that I can stomach. Make these words to where I can understand ‘em. English, this time, if you please.”
    The priest’s expression tightened. He cleared his throat and began again, “In the Lord’s house we gather to correct this wrong. Do you, Brazos Sinclair take this foreign woman to wife?”
    “Oh, dear Lord!”
     
     
    CHÂTEAU ST. GERMAINE, FRANCE
     
    WARILY, THE secretary, William, knocked on the library door. The master had just returned from his afternoon ride. “Enter,” a crisp, authoritative voice called.
    Julian Desseau stood before the hearth, staring into the crackling fire, one hand holding a snifter of brandy, the other fingering a blue porcelain vase atop the marble mantle. He did not look up. “Well?”
    The servant wiped wet palms upon his trousers. “A message has arrived from Paris, Monsieur.”
    Slowly, Desseau turned his head and pinned the servant with his gaze. The fire in his dark eyes could have been a reflection from the hearth, but it was not. Wings of gray at his temples, an unholy arch of thick, salt-and-pepper eyebrows, and the vermillion flash of his cape’s satin lining created a vision of Lucifer himself. “And?” he asked softly.
    After a deep breath, William replied, “Nothing. The Bureau of Wet-Nurses shows no record of a woman fitting Mistress Smithwick’s description requesting either placement of an infant or hiring of a private nurse.”
    “Doctors?”
    “Investigation of leads on three suspects led nowhere.”
    The tick of a wall clock echoed through the silence in the room. Desseau returned his gaze to the fire. When he spoke, his voice grated with menace. “And the jewels?”
    “None have been offered for sale in any shop in France. Your man continues to investigate the less legitimate methods of disposal for such valuable pieces.”
    Desseau’s jaw hardened, and he shut his eyes. Grasping the vase on the mantle, he lifted it, held it motionless in his hand, then whirled and threw it violently against the opposite wall. “Damn the woman!” he shouted. His fingers wrenched at the fastening on his cape, and he threw it from his shoulders. Then he sank into the black leather chair that sat before the hearth and folded his hands, thumping his chin with his fist as he thought.
    “You know, I rather liked Mary Smithwick,” he said after a time, more to himself than to the servant, who scurried to retrieve the cloak, then retreated to the doorway. “She had a way about her, a wounded air that awakened all my protective instincts. Who would have guessed that beneath that beauty, that vulnerable façade, lurked an evil quite brazen? I wonder how many other men she has duped in her young life.”
    He sighed and lifted the brass poker from its stand beside the chain. Stirring the fire, he mused, “I shall have to ask her before I kill her.”

 
     
    Chapter 3
     
     
    THE WIND BLEW HALF a gale, and the seas ran high as Madeline strolled the ship’s deck, nodding and greeting other colonists, thankful to rejoin the living.