Fateful Read Online Free PDF Page A

the little servant girl,” he croons. The bastard is having fun. “Give me the box, girl. Or I shall deeply enjoy taking it from you.”
    He lifts his black-gloved hand and strokes one finger down the side of my face. When his eyes bore into mine, fear slices into me—not mere nervousness, but real terror.
    These were the eyes that followed me on the dock. Even before I saw him with the young man from last night, he had seen me.
    This is the hunter. And he is still hunting me. He has caught me.
    Give him the box , I think. Give him the box, and tell them it was stolen, and even if they don’t believe you, they won’t put you in jail. Or will they? Is that all I’ll ever see of America—a jail cell?
    But scared as I am, I can’t give up so easily. Lord, but I hate a bully. “No, sir,” I say, and I lift my chin, daring him to do his worst.
    He takes the dare.
    His hands grab my shoulders and yank me forward so that I’m off balance and his face is close to mine. His breath smells like he recently ate undercooked meat. Then he shoves me back against the door, hard enough that it slams painfully against my head. For one moment, I smell blood.
    He hisses, “What scares you the most?”
    “Get off me!” I try to shove him back, but the heavy box in my hands makes that difficult.
    “Being sacked and turned out to starve?” Although he’s still gripping my shoulders tightly, his thumbs make circles as they press into my flesh—a caress meant to bruise. “Being hurt? Someone you love being hurt? Whatever it is, I can make it happen.”
    I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know what to do. I just know that I hate him. So I spit in his face.
    The saliva dribbles onto his beard, and the ice-blue eyes suddenly blaze like fire. My fear deepens as I realize that this really wasn’t the worst he could do—he’s about to do that now—
    Then a voice calls, “Stop this.”
    We turn to see him—the other, the younger man, the one who saved me last night and is saving me now. I sag against the door in relief, and the bearded man’s face distorts, as though his displeasure were melting him like wax. “Leave us, Alec.”
    Alec does nothing of the sort. “This is neither the time nor the place for your games, Mikhail. Leave the poor girl alone.”
    The hunter—Mikhail—responds, “Someday you’ll learn that it is never a bad time to enjoy our birthright.” But he lets go of my shoulders. Something passes between them then: some kind of shared knowledge I cannot guess at.
    Are they friends, then? How can that be possible? Mikhail terrifies me, but Alec—his effect on me is something altogether different. Should I be as afraid of Alec as I am of Mikhail? Beauty is no guarantee of goodness; Lady Regina is proof enough of that. I don’t know, and want nothing so much as for this to be over.
    Mikhail gives me another look that makes my stomach clench, then tips his hat to me—a mockery of manners, or of me. Then he walks away.
    And yet I know this is anything but over.
    Alec’s eyes study me in turn, but his look is different. At least my reaction is different. When Mikhail stared at me, I went cold; Alec’s attention warms my blood, flushes my cheeks. Yet I can’t tell if he is looking at me with desire or contempt or—I can’t guess. I can’t fathom the depth of his intense gaze.
    He says to me, roughly, “You should watch yourself.”
    I cannot tell if it is a warning, or a threat. And yet I know—beyond any doubt—I have been rescued.
    Before I can speak, Alec walks away, very quickly, as though he were a criminal escaping from the scene. At first I stare after him in shock, unable to understand what happened here—and what might have happened, had Alec not arrived.
    Then I feel the key pressing against my sweaty palm, hard against the box, and curse myself for a fool. I hurry inside the cabin and lock the door behind me, safe—for now.

Chapter 4
     
    AS MY HEARTBEAT SLOWS AND MY BREATHING