Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    The caress was continuous. Rachel smiled, though she did her best to remain in the netherlands of slumber. But she couldn’t ignore the touch. It was warm and... and wet? Rachel’s eyes popped open, only to meet the droopy gaze staring at her from both sides of a black, moist nose.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She skittered up and back, knocking her wig further askew in the process. She didn’t care for dogs... animals in general for that matter. And this one was practically plastered against her side, its big pink tongue dangling out of an open mouth.
    “Shoo. Go away,” she implored while glancing about. Memory and realization that she was still someplace in the wilds of the New World assaulted her simultaneously. She nearly groaned. Last night she was so sure as she fell asleep on the disgusting pile of animal pelts that she’d awaken in her own luxurious bed beneath a canopy of gilt and brocaded silk. Yet here she was... still.
    And now to make matters worse, there was this dog. A large black-and-white spaniel. And he seemed unable to understand the simplest of directions.
    Keeping her eye on it Rachel gingerly pushed to her feet. Her gown was intolerably wrinkled, the silver tarnished in spots and the hemline ragged. And it had been such a beautiful gown.
    Rachel sighed and caught the spaniel’s eye again. “Where is he?” she demanded before crossing her arms and tramping across the furs, kicking at one that tangled with her foot. The fire was long cold, which accounted for the gooseflesh covering her arms. But she glanced hopefully in the hanging iron pot anyway.
    “He’s gone hunting, has he,” Rachel said, toeing a puff of dirt toward the burned-out ashes in the hearth. “’Tis a good thing, for I am hungry.” The glance she tossed the dog over her shoulder showed her indifference. “What does it matter how hungry you are? You’re nothing but a—”
    The rest of her words along with the sudden realization that she was having a conversation—of sorts—with a dog were interrupted as the man pounded into the cabin. He was dressed as yesterday in a buckskin jacket, long dark hair tangled about his shoulders, and an extra day’s worth of whiskers shadowing his lower face.
    “’Tis awake ye are.” When Rachel said nothing he glanced from her to the gray ashes in the hearth and back. “I’d of thought ye might start a fire while I was gone.”
    Start a fire? Was the creature mad? “I, sir, do not start fires. Servants start fires.”
    “Ah.” He lifted a straight dark brow and stared at her a moment longer before tossing something her way. Reflexes had Rachel catching the furry bundle. He turned toward the stack of wood piled to the side of the fireplace. “We seem to have misplaced all the servants for the moment.”
    Rachel raised her chin. “Then I suppose you will have to do it.”
    “This time,” was all he said before bending over and exposing a few smoldering coals beneath the ashes. He added a bit of kindling, then blew on it gently, coaxing a tiny flame to life. Rachel watched until she grew bored, but it wasn’t until she decided to cross her arms to ward off the chill that she realized what she held.
    Her squeal caused the man to jerk around and the dog to bark.
    “What the hell did you do that for?” Logan settled hands on knees and pushed to his feet. “Down, Dog,” he yelled as he scooped up the rabbit she’d dropped to the floor.
    “’Tis dead.”
    He gave her a look out of sea-green eyes that seemed to say he found her amazingly stupid. But all he did was yell at the dog who ran around the tiny cabin, yelping with excitement. With a sigh Rachel turned her back on the scene. But when his owner’s shouted commands had no effect on the spaniel, Rachel caught the dog’s eye as he bounded past her.
    “Oh, do be quiet,” was all she said, but it seemed to calm the animal. The spaniel stopped in its tracks, then, as if deciding it had enough activity for one day,