The Reckless One Read Online Free PDF

a V of consternation, “why would you refuse to aid me when you can only benefit from my offer?”
    “What exactly is your offer?”
    “You go to the docks tonight, pretending to be my husband. You meet with the smuggler captain, then …”
    “Then?”
    “I arrive, we board and sail for Scotland. Once we are on land, we go our separate ways.”
    “What about little Angus?”
    “Angus? He will be with me, of course.”
    “And once in Scotland you’ll walk to this great estate of your husband’s?”
    “Non!”
she said impatiently. “Do not be foolish. My husband’s people, they await me … us.” A shadow dimmed the bright night sky of her eyes. She released a barely audible sigh and, catching his eye, smiled wanly. “Little Angus will be the new laird,
n’est-ce pas?
The point upon which all their plans and strategies and hopes hinge.”
    An odd way of putting it, but Raine supposed that in some families a son might be looked upon with such concentration of pride and hope. Just because it hadn’t been so in his family didn’t mean it was a lie.
    For the first time, Raine found himself believing her. Not all of it to be sure, but that last part perhaps, because of the sadness in her eyes. She looked as he imagined a fond mother might look upon realizing the burden of expectation being placed upon her child: resigned, troubled, a shade resentful.
    “Monsieur, will you not help me? What harm have we done you? You have already enjoyed some hours of freedom, clean clothes, and will soon partake of a warm, hearty meal.” She sounded tired, as though the strain had finally caught up with her.
    As if on cue, there came a thump on the door. Raine’s head slew about, looking for some way to escape. They’d only to call out and he’d be dead.
    “Monsieur!” the girl pleaded on a soft whisper.
    “Come, son,” Jacques urged. “What have you to lose and how much to gain?”
    He could return to Scotland. How many nights had he lain on his moldy pallet and plotted his movements after his escape? Now he had the chance to fulfill those plans.
    First to Scotland and Wanton’s Blush, the castle on McClairen’s Isle where his thrice-cursed father lived—but not to see his unnatural sire. No, he would go there secretly to retrieve the jewels his mother had hidden shortly before her untimely death. The jewels he’d seen her stow in the false bottom of an oriental tea chest. The jewels he’d never told anyone about. Not even Ash.
    And then, with his stolen birthright hard in his pocket, he’d sail for the New World—and freedom. Real freedom. Freedom from Scotland and McClairen’s Isle and Carr and, most of all, his past.
    The servant outside the door pounded again. The girl watched him anxiously, wetting the full curve of her lower lip.
    And, too, there was something to recommend itself in the notion of spending several nights ensconced on a ship—as Mr. and Mrs. Lambett they might even share a cabin—with this black-browed, oddly attractive girl.
    He grinned, releasing the hammer on the pistol and shoving it into his waistband. “Open the door, Jacques,” he said quite calmly. “I’d as soon eat before we head for the docks.”

Chapter Five
    True to the girl’s word, the servant at the door carried a tray loaded with food: crusty loaves of fresh baked bread; meat pies with wisps of fragrant, herb-scented steam rising from the slits in their lard crusts; a cold shoulder of mutton and a mound of hot, syrup-coated apple slices.
    Whatever doubts Raine had about the pair’s candor, clearly they courted his cooperation. For the first time in years he filled himself to satiation, paying half attention to the girl as she outlined her plan. She gave him the lines he was to say, the manner in which he was to approach the “smuggler captain,” the times and place of the meeting. The other half of his attention pursued his alternatives.
    But try as he might, he could not come up with any plan that promised as