Dark Prelude Read Online Free PDF Page A

we agree.” Morgan’s laugh had a
raucous ring. “Now what shall we do about this trip to the
colonies?” he asked as he motioned the barmaid with a sweep of his
arm and followed by pointing to his empty tankard.
    The woman shrugged, wiped her hands on a
soiled apron and waddled across the room like a fat duck headed for
a pond. “Ye gentlemen enjoy yer evenin’? she asked with a broad
grin showing the ragged gap of one missing front tooth.
    “Ahh. We did indeed, Sallie.” Roman smiled
and winked, his face and inventive mask of masculine charm that set
women in a dither. “But I’m sure it would have been a far better
evening if I could have persuaded you to share it with me.”
    “Posh! Be off with ye sir! The thought of
it!” Sallie blushed and wrung her apron in a pair of plump hands,
but her grin grew even wider.
    “Can’t you leave the ladies alone for a
minute, brother?” Morgan rolled his eyes upward, then wrapped his
hands about the tankard and looked impatiently at Roman. “Before
the Eastwind sails, tell me what you intend doing. Do we go
or not?”
    Morgan could not suppress another chuckle.
At thirty-two, Roman was a year his senior but hardly more a
ladies’ man than himself.
    “I believe we have run dry every diversion
on this side of the Atlantic and I’ve a hankering for a warmer
place myself. And I must admit my curiosity is aroused when Uncle
says he requires us for a matter of extreme importance.” Roman
reared back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. One
brow arched up. “He’s not well, from the look of him.”
    “You don’t think the old tyrant’s about to
die, do you?”
    Morgan halted his drinking long enough for
the concern to show on his face.
    “No. The rogue is mean as a snake. He may
never die.”
    Roman let out an audible breath. Fond as he
was of the old gentleman, he knew Wilhelm’s calculating shrewdness
and attitude of invulnerability must eventually succumb to age.
“But he is old and it seems to have occurred to him for the first
time that he must attend to the future of the Schlange estate.
Could be he wants us to take over more of the shipping
business.”
    Roman clenched and unclenched his fist. “He
has relinquished management of the estate to that blustery Eric. A
move I thought never to see. Still the man has a way with
crops.”
    Morgan stroked his chin, still showing a bit
of red from a morning shave with a razor not quite stropped enough.
“And when have you heard from Eric and dear lovely Martha? I’m sure
she’s kept you bombarded with letters. One would think she has her
eye on you and an ear tuned for wedding bells.”
    Morgan could not hide the start of a smile.
Mention of Martha never failed to prompt a testy reply. The
affections of Martha for his brother were a source of amusement for
him. He knew for a fact Roman had only a brotherly affection for
Martha and would never marry her, if he ever wed at all.
    “Blast you, Morgan!” He shoved his near full
tankard aside. “You know full well no letters have followed us.” He
glared suspiciously at his brother. “What pot have you
stirred?”
    Morgan chuckled. “Have you not learned,
brother, that if you do not want a pot to boil, you must not light
a fire?”
    “I’ve lit nothing but I do not trust your
mischief.” He scowled and came halfway out of his chair before
tamping down his anger. He did not need to start another ruckus.
They had done enough damage last night. Another brawl might land
them in shackles. Still there was simmering anger when he
continued. “Whatever you have done, I warn you, Morgan, you are the
one playing with fire if you think I will not even any score of
yours.”
    Morgan laughed heartily. “I am quaking in my
boots, brother.”
    Roman released his clenched teeth and
snarled a reply, “I advise you not to rest easy, Morgan. I’ll…”
He tapered off, the sting gone out of his wrath. He had no way of
knowing if Morgan had truly unleashed some