Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace Read Online Free PDF

deep sigh escaped as the memory of that evening faded.
    “I serve a kind mistress,” she announced baldly. “Why should I not know pleasure?”
    *
    Gabriel had watched the tree line behind him for what seemed like hours before a flicker of movement proved his suspicions correct. The attack that had left a gaping hole in his shoulder had not been from a highwayman or even a hunter accidentally shooting in the wrong direction. Someone had followed his trail. Someone had purposely targeted him. Likely, Jamot had doubled back. Kerrington had escaped, but their old enemy had laid in wait. Now, Gabriel would likely die on this lonely Scottish road, halfway between his past and his future.
    With difficulty, Gabriel raised his gun to rest along the flat line of the rock he had chosen as shelter. Resting his gun against the rock face, he used his left hand to lift the right to where he might grasp the gun’s handle. The movement brought fresh blood gushing from the wound, and Gabriel bit the inside of his jaw to prevent his losing consciousness. He might meet Death in the next few minutes, but if had anything to say of it so would Murhad Jamot.
    The woods around him had silenced–a sure sign that a man stalked the land. It was the way with nature. A signal of an invasion within its midst. Gabriel gave his head a shake to clear his vision, and then he inhaled deeply to steady his shaking grip. “I few more minutes, God,” he whispered as he wrapped his index finger about the gun’s trigger. “Then you may claim my sorry soul and that of a Baloch heathen.” He wondered how God might receive such a prayer: one where he prayed to be permitted to kill another before he died. Thou shall not kill.
    Before he could finish the thought, a man on horseback burst through the tree line. Expecting to see a dark-skinned Baloch, the pale-faced Anglo caught Gabriel’s mind napping, and for a brief second, he pause. Just a fraction of a second, but long enough to give his opponent an advantage. Luckily, the man’s aim was off. A spray of rock fragments peppered Gabriel’s head and chest, but he did not flinch. His years with the Realm had taught him well. In the next instant, he returned fire. The Realm had seen to those lessons, as well. His attacker had foolishly risen up in the saddle–making him a larger target.
    Biting away the pain, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew straight, but the horse turned its head ever so slightly, and Gabriel’s hope of the shot finding his attacker’s heart disappeared. Instead, the man slumped forward as the horse raced away to the west.
    Gabriel groaned as he forced himself to stand. “I require a few additional minutes, God,” he gasped. “Hold your hand steady, Lord.”
    With those words, he stumbled toward where Balder waited impatiently for him. Reaching for the saddle, he strained to swing his leg over the rise and settle in the seat. “Come on, old friend.” Gabriel laced the reins through his gloved fingers and set the horse in a cantor. Each thud of Balder’s hoofs set his teeth on edge, but Gabriel managed to stay in the saddle. He would find the man who had shot him. He would finish what he had started, and then he would die.
    *
    Grace wanted to stomp her foot in annoyance. They had arrived at the over night stop for the coach, but she had received no welcome. “I do not let rooms to unchaperoned or unmarried ladies,” the innkeeper asserted as she had protested his lack of understanding. “You are welcome to wait in the common room.”
    She shot a quick glance at the open room. The inn sported several occupants–a variety of social classes mingling together. Unfortunately, other than the bar maids, only two women took their evening meals among the patrons. Even dressed as non-conspicuously as possible, her “aloneness” would draw attention. And in these quarters, attention was not a desirable commodity. Grace swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders. “I