Tide and Tempest (Edge of Freedom Book #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’d already examined Donal from head to foot and found him lacking.
    Hiding a sneer, Donal dragged the cap from his head and clutched it in both hands. “Good day to you, sir. My name’s Donal Peevey. I’m here to see the master of the house.”
    The man’s nose rose higher. “Is the master expecting you?”
    “Not exactly.” Donal frowned. “That is to say, not right at this moment.” He then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He will, however, be glad of my arrival, if you ken my meaning.”
    The man’s wrinkled lips puckered into a glower. “No, sir, I do not ken anything. Do you have an appointment or not?”
    Donal squared his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “None needed. Tell your master I’m here and I’ve news to report.” When the old goat refused to flinch, he added a sharp, “Now!”
    Inclining his head, the man strode down the hall and disappeared through a set of molded pocket doors. He reappeared a short time later with a larger, more imposing figure in tow.
    Donal turned to watch him approach. At first glance, The Celt was a kind-looking fellow, with broad shoulders and a full mustache. It was only after one had known him some time that one saw behind the twinkling eyes and jovial smile.
    And Donal had known him some time now.
    He swallowed reflexively and extended his hand.
    Ignoring it, The Celt turned and dismissed the butler with a curt nod. “That’ll be all, John.” To Donal, he said, “In here.”
    He gestured toward a parlor off the main hall and strode inside to a sideboard where a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid waited. He lifted it toward Donal, who shook his head. He didn’t want brandy. Not at this hour and not when he needed to keep his wits about him.
    Shrugging, The Celt poured a drink from the decanter, thengestured toward an ornate writing desk. Seating himself, he took a swallow and motioned Donal toward the chair opposite the desk. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
    Donal hesitated. He’d learned to beware that polite tone. “Aye, sir, but I figured it best to move quickly.”
    The Celt’s glass lowered to the desk with a soft click. “ You figured it best?”
    For a brief moment, fear squeezed Donal’s chest. Had he been mistaken by acting with such haste?
    The Celt leaned back in his chair and laced his long fingers over his midsection. “Suppose you tell me what you’ve been up to, Donal, me boy, and let me decide what’s best.”
    Ire rose in Donal’s throat. Hadn’t he always done everything The Celt asked, even this last thing?
    Clasping the edge of the desk, he pulled forward on the seat until he sat erect with both feet planted flat on the floor. The Celt watched but said nothing.
    “The deed’s done.” Donal scanned the room and then lowered his voice. “You’ve no more cause to worry about the doctor. He won’t be talking to anybody ever again.”
    The Celt’s head tilted to one side, and his fingers plucked lightly at his mustache. “Really, Donal, did I seem worried to you?”
    Again he found himself backtracking. “Well, no. That is . . . I just meant . . .”
    The Celt laughed, and Donal flinched when the man rose from his chair and circled the desk to clap him on the shoulder. “Calm yourself, lad. You’ve done well, better than I could’ve asked. I’m pleased.”
    Why then did the hair on the back of Donal’s neck rise up and his flesh crawl? Not for the first time he wondered if he’d been wrong to toss his allegiance in with this man.
    The Celt then pulled something from his waistcoat pocketand handed it across to Donal. The wad of bills was thicker than he’d expected. Curious, he lifted his eyes.
    The Celt’s smile broadened. “It’s all there—the agreed upon price and then some. I think you’ll find I’m most generous with those who do their job well.”
    Resisting the urge to lick his lips, Donal shoved the money into his pocket and stood. Now that their business was