The Spurned Viscountess Read Online Free PDF Page B

flicker of apprehension swept through her, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. He looked sinister at times, especially if the sun caught his face at the right angle, but surely he didn’t mean her harm? A breath clogged her throat. No, she refused to believe it.
    But someone had skulked in her chamber this morning. Someone had pushed her from bed. Someone intended to harm her…
    The path tapered, becoming too narrow for both of them to walk abreast. Rosalind strode ahead, in a most unladylike manner, trying to outdistance her turbulent thoughts.
    “Miss Rosalind, slow down. Please. ” Mary’s plaintive gasp, interspersed with wheezy pants, made her slow. One glimpse of her maid’s red cheeks and the guilt was instantaneous.
    “Oh, Mary. I’m sorry. How thoughtless of me. I’m bad company today, I fear.”
    “Probably the knock on your noggin this morning.”
    Rosalind wanted to smile. Mary’s motivation was clear. She intended to save Rosalind from herself no matter the consequences. “Are you recovered enough to continue walking?”
    Mary groaned and rolled her eyes. “Yes, miss. As long as you don’t turn our walk into a race.”
    They continued along the cliff top, but at a much slower pace. Rosalind led the way, navigating a collapsed stone wall that littered the path, skirting the lethal branches of a thorny hedge until she came to an open space in the undergrowth. They could turn toward a copse of trees to their right or continue along the cliff path. They’d walked far enough that Castle St. Clare was no longer visible, obscured by trees, the hedge and a jutting outcrop of pale limestone. She smiled, feeling happy for the first time since she’d woken on the floor this morning.
    The view of the sea stretched as far as the eye could see, and it was as beautiful as her grandmother had described. Shades of blue and green and gray with frothy white tops on the waves made her itch to paint the scene. Not that her talents would do the panorama justice. Rosalind paused to look down. The sea churned and tossed, waves crashing to shore and thrashing against the base of the cliff in a thunderous finale. She turned to beam at Mary. “Look, it’s beautiful.”
    “It’s cold.” Mary stopped beside Rosalind and huddled into her woolen cloak. She stared off into the distance then grinned cheekily. “Viscount Hastings, he’s coming this way. Probably to meet you.”
    Rosalind whirled in the direction Mary indicated, the wind whipping her curls across her face. She brushed an errant lock from her eyes and watched Hastings approach on horseback, her heart lurching with sudden alarm.
    “I will return to the castle on my own,” Mary said.
    “No!” Rosalind grabbed Mary’s forearm. “Don’t leave me.”
    Mary’s ginger brows shot up. “But he’s your husband.”
    “No, I…”
    Mary’s grin brought a hot flush to her face.
    The thud of hooves made them both turn. Hastings towered over them, moving as one with his mount. Mary sketched a brief curtsey while Rosalind merely stared up at her husband, her stomach fluttering with nerves. Her gaze danced across his face, taking in his scar before moving up to meet his eyes. The mocking cynicism and underlying pain wrenched her gaze away. It took a few brief seconds to focus, to look back at the man she was married to, but by then the damage had occurred. An indifferent mask covered his emotions.
    The black horse skittered at the raucous cry of a seagull. Hastings held the animal firmly in check with a quiet word and a soothing pat on its glossy neck. He treated his horse with more consideration than her. The fact rankled.
    He turned his attention to her again. “You shouldn’t be here.”
    Rosalind glanced about for Mary, but saw only a flash of brown as Mary disappeared down the path toward the castle. The traitor. Make no mistake, she would have words with her later.
    The horse shifted again, jerking her attention back to the man sitting atop the beast,