The Heather Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Susan King
please."
"Why should I trust you?" she asked. "You are a comrade of Musgrave, who is English, and my father's enemy."
"You have no reason to trust me," he said simply, glancing at her. "But you can believe that I want you and your father well out of this matter, where neither of you belong. Tell Archie to say aye to whatever Musgrave suggests to him. Say aye, and he will let you go your way. Else you may both hang."
Her heart pounded, but she revealed none of her dread. She tipped her head to watch him. "I heard you and Musgrave. I know there is some plan between you. My father will never agree to be part of an English scheme. And Jasper willna hang us. He will let us go in the morn."
He slid her a glance. "Horse thievery is no light crime, lass. He could hang you both and be within his rights. Or he could keep you here for months, even years. Do not be a fool."
She frowned at the unbearable thought of lengthy confinement in a cold, dark dungeon. She would sicken in such a place, without her freedom, without the air and the sun. Like a plant plucked from the earth, she would wither and dry up. The thought terrified her.
"I want to be free." She shrugged to mask how desperately she meant that.
"Then take freedom no matter the price, when he offers."
"What will he offer us?"
"A bribe of some sort. He will ask you to join the English in some cause. Agree to it."
"What cause?"
"I cannot guess. Something that matters to him."
"But not to me! You agreed to help him—I heard you. More rascal than I thought, you! Taking a bribe from that one!"
"It is not your concern, lass." He leaned close, speaking low. Soft and deep, his voice thrilled through her body as if he had touched her. "Only tell your father to accept the offer and to take the reprieve that comes with it."
She would not flinch from his steady gaze, or the closeness of his body. Warmth radiated from him, and his breath, wine-sharp, air-soft, drifted over her face. She wanted to show defiance, but she felt an urge to lean toward him, his strength.
She resisted that, and told herself he was not trustworthy, nor did he care what might happen to a reiver and a gypsy.
But she remembered what had occurred earlier between them. When he had set her hands free, his blade had cut her, and him as well. And that had set her heart and thoughts into a spin.
The edge of a knife, a turn of a hand, a moment of shared blood: those were elements of the Romany custom of marriage.
The realization made her knees weak. She could not think about that now, with his gaze intent upon her. She looked away, knowing she could say nothing of what that meant.
"Did you hear me, lass? I want you to agree to whatever Musgrave tells you to do."
Taking a breath, she looked up at him. "Neither my father nor I will agree to help the English."
"I suspect your father is a thorough rogue," he said. "Once he's free, he'll avoid Musgrave entirely until this matter is done. Tell Archie to agree, but tell him to take no coin, to give Musgrave no true hold over him."
"Why should I tell my father any of this?"
"Because, you care more for your father's welfare than for your own," he said in a near-whisper. She closed her eyes, felt the mysterious, sensual power his voice. Her body seemed to melt at the sound. She drew back. "Heed me. Tell him to listen to Jasper. It is more important than you can guess."
She glanced at her father. "Da, do you hear the man?" she asked. Archie did not move. She frowned, leaned over him. "Da, speak to me. Are you well?"
Her father mumbled, shook his head. Alarmed, she knelt beside him despite the restraints around her ankles. "Da, what do you need?"
Archie groaned softly. She touched his head with her folded left hand, snug in its leather glove. More a mitten than a glove, the casing had a pattern of stitches that imitated four fingers held together, concealing her deformity. She dipped her bare hand into the water in the bucket and offered her father a drink.
He
"Why should I trust you?" she asked. "You are a comrade of Musgrave, who is English, and my father's enemy."
"You have no reason to trust me," he said simply, glancing at her. "But you can believe that I want you and your father well out of this matter, where neither of you belong. Tell Archie to say aye to whatever Musgrave suggests to him. Say aye, and he will let you go your way. Else you may both hang."
Her heart pounded, but she revealed none of her dread. She tipped her head to watch him. "I heard you and Musgrave. I know there is some plan between you. My father will never agree to be part of an English scheme. And Jasper willna hang us. He will let us go in the morn."
He slid her a glance. "Horse thievery is no light crime, lass. He could hang you both and be within his rights. Or he could keep you here for months, even years. Do not be a fool."
She frowned at the unbearable thought of lengthy confinement in a cold, dark dungeon. She would sicken in such a place, without her freedom, without the air and the sun. Like a plant plucked from the earth, she would wither and dry up. The thought terrified her.
"I want to be free." She shrugged to mask how desperately she meant that.
"Then take freedom no matter the price, when he offers."
"What will he offer us?"
"A bribe of some sort. He will ask you to join the English in some cause. Agree to it."
"What cause?"
"I cannot guess. Something that matters to him."
"But not to me! You agreed to help him—I heard you. More rascal than I thought, you! Taking a bribe from that one!"
"It is not your concern, lass." He leaned close, speaking low. Soft and deep, his voice thrilled through her body as if he had touched her. "Only tell your father to accept the offer and to take the reprieve that comes with it."
She would not flinch from his steady gaze, or the closeness of his body. Warmth radiated from him, and his breath, wine-sharp, air-soft, drifted over her face. She wanted to show defiance, but she felt an urge to lean toward him, his strength.
She resisted that, and told herself he was not trustworthy, nor did he care what might happen to a reiver and a gypsy.
But she remembered what had occurred earlier between them. When he had set her hands free, his blade had cut her, and him as well. And that had set her heart and thoughts into a spin.
The edge of a knife, a turn of a hand, a moment of shared blood: those were elements of the Romany custom of marriage.
The realization made her knees weak. She could not think about that now, with his gaze intent upon her. She looked away, knowing she could say nothing of what that meant.
"Did you hear me, lass? I want you to agree to whatever Musgrave tells you to do."
Taking a breath, she looked up at him. "Neither my father nor I will agree to help the English."
"I suspect your father is a thorough rogue," he said. "Once he's free, he'll avoid Musgrave entirely until this matter is done. Tell Archie to agree, but tell him to take no coin, to give Musgrave no true hold over him."
"Why should I tell my father any of this?"
"Because, you care more for your father's welfare than for your own," he said in a near-whisper. She closed her eyes, felt the mysterious, sensual power his voice. Her body seemed to melt at the sound. She drew back. "Heed me. Tell him to listen to Jasper. It is more important than you can guess."
She glanced at her father. "Da, do you hear the man?" she asked. Archie did not move. She frowned, leaned over him. "Da, speak to me. Are you well?"
Her father mumbled, shook his head. Alarmed, she knelt beside him despite the restraints around her ankles. "Da, what do you need?"
Archie groaned softly. She touched his head with her folded left hand, snug in its leather glove. More a mitten than a glove, the casing had a pattern of stitches that imitated four fingers held together, concealing her deformity. She dipped her bare hand into the water in the bucket and offered her father a drink.
He