Lord of Vengeance Read Online Free PDF

torrent of emotion buffeted him at once, leaving him breathless and feeling as if the ground were opening up beneath him and sucking him down.
    He had waited all this time, come all this way...for nothing.
    “Nay,” Raina was saying, “the closest my father gets to the lists these days is to award the prizes to the victor.”
    Her father.
    “Baron d'Bussy is--” He nearly had to shake himself to form the words without sputtering. “He is your father?”
    “Aye, he is,” she replied brightly; then she looked to his expression and he could almost feel her shudder where she stood.
    Gunnar fought hard to control his roiling, self-directed anger, summoning every ounce of control he possessed to keep his reaction bland, unaffected. What an idiot he'd been. What a fool! So taken with a becoming wench that he'd been oblivious to the baron's presence, and worse, chattering on with the villain's own daughter when he should have been plotting an alternative means of attack.
    “Whatever is the matter?” she asked.
    He breathed in deeply, feeling his nostrils flare with the effort, and slowly let the calming draught out. Shuttering his expression with the expertise gleaned from years of practice, he faced her. Smiled at her.
    The wary frown that had pinched her brow faded quickly and melted into a hopeful-looking smile. “Do you know my father?”
    “My lady,” he said, “I should think there's not a man from here to the Continent who does not know of your father or his reputation.”
    “Aye,” she remarked, evidently pleased. “I reckon, indeed.”
    Clearly his light tone and affable mien had belied none of the sarcasm he felt. Only he knew how his heart was pounding with hatred, his blood hot and coursing with rage for the demon of his past.
    At that moment, a young, towheaded page scurried to Raina's side. He halted at her elbow, and, hands clasped before him, he cleared his throat. “B-begging pardon, m-my lady.” The lad's stammer turned into a terrible stutter as his eyes darted nervously between Gunnar and her. He took a huge gulp of air and continued at little more than a whisper. “M-my lord has sent m-me hither to f-fetch you to his side for the start of the tourney.”
    “Thank you, Robert.” She hunkered down to the page's level. “You are doing so much better,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his overlong, white-blond bangs. “Walk back with me to the stands and I'll buy each of us a nice, sugary wafer. How does that sound?”
    At the lad's enthusiastic nod, Raina giggled and rose, bringing him to her side in a sisterly hug. She looked to Gunnar, a warm smile still glowing in her eyes, and he felt the queerest pull in his gut. Caused by jealousy or longing, he knew not which, but he stamped the feeling down as quickly as it came.
    She is d'Bussy's daughter, he reminded himself. Spawn of his enemy and he should feel nothing toward her.
    “I must go,” she said.
    “Of course,” he murmured. With the baron still glaring down from his seat, Gunnar took Raina's hand in his and brought it to his lips. He felt her tremble as he pressed a chaste kiss to her fingers, knowing from her quick intake of breath that her cheeks were flushed an innocent pink, but Gunnar's eyes remained fastened on her father's darkening expression.
    Only when she drew her hand from his did he look from the baron's eyes and into his daughter's. “'Tis been a pleasure, Lady Raina,” he said, and wanted to kick himself because he spoke the truth in telling her so.
    “My lord,” she acceded with a polite nod. Then, blushing from her chin to her scalp, she pivoted on her heel and made to leave with young Robert gathered close to her side.
    Gunnar watched her diaphanous skirts swirl about her legs, her gently flared hips swaying with each step she took. Suddenly she stopped, turned, and ran back to him.
    She pressed something into his hand and placed a quick kiss to his cheek. “For luck,” she whispered against his