Bones for Bread (The Scarlet Plumiere) Read Free Page A

foolish of all.
    The weight of him was suddenly gone, as was the weight of her dagger. She hadn’t even noticed him touch her leg. Also gone were his hands and the heat from his proximity. Blair was simply grateful for the darkness that concealed her blush, for she was blushing. Her cheeks burned as if she’d laid a hot coal to each of them.
    “Seat yourself,” he said quietly, his voice further away, perhaps near the table with the candlestick and flint box—against the far wall.
    Since the only seat was the bed, he couldn’t be surprised when she remained standing. Instead, she began inching her way silently toward the door, intending to run. She began searching her pocket for the key.
    Of course she’d been prepared for a confrontation with her Englishmen. If it came down to it, she’d planned to ask for their aid in finding her brother, explain why she believed the men who took Martin were the same men who had kidnapped their friend. But at the moment, she could only be outraged at being. . .handled. Though she could not honestly say he’d caused her any pain, she was fashed at being handled so. . .completely. He’d taken all control from her. She would never forgive him for it.
    She’d been relieved that the creature in the darkness had proved to be this man and not the hotel attendant, or some other Frenchman with evil intentions. And that relief, combined with her outrage, then combined again with her uncontrollable fascination with him, left her emotions fairly rioting in her chest.
    Even if there were a proper light and proper seat, she had no intention of carrying on an intelligent conversation when the last thing she felt was intelligent. She wasn’t certain she could speak clearly enough to berate him, let alone discuss the reason she’d been following him. She might well end up in a puddle of tears.
    No. Better to run and fight another day, when she was in fighting condition. Perhaps after she’d had a good night’s sleep, a good meal. . .and her brother at her side.
    Her traitorous boot scratched the floor.
    He struck a flint. The sparks arced, and then died.
    She had to get out before the light caught!
    “If you continue toward the door,” he growled, “I will have no choice but to tie you to the bed before I continue. And I’ll do it even though I have your key.”
    She held her breath in surprise, then chided herself for believing him. He was a gentleman, after all. No gentleman would—
    “I advise you not to test me on this.”
    Blair stomped her foot—a habit from childhood she sought to leave behind, but resurfaced when she was particularly frustrated. It only served to embarrass her.
    He chuckled darkly and resumed his assault on the flint.
    She frantically searched her pockets, but found nothing. Then she groped for the door and pulled at the doorknob to no avail.
    When the flame took to the candle, she pulled up her hood, tugging it too far forward for the light to reach her face. She drew her cloak tightly about her before she turned back to him. She’d be damned if she’d allow him a good look at her, and he’d be damned to Hell if he tried to put his hands on her again. But even Hell wouldn’t be able to hold him, she thought. If she killed this man, he would haunt her mercilessly. And she was haunted enough.
    Heaven help her—when had she become such a monster she would think so lightly of killing a man?
    She pushed the thought aside. In her current predicament, examining what was left of her soul would need to wait.
    He lifted the candle.
    She turned her head aside.
    He sat the candle on the table. When she turned back, he gestured toward the bed.
    “Sit.”
    She didn’t move.
    He huffed out a breath, then pointed to bed again.
    “Please, sit. I assure you I shall remain standing. You have my word as a gentleman.”
    Again, she made no response. His honor be damned.
    Finally, he nodded, as if he’d given her permission to refuse his direction. She nearly sat just to