Come Midnight Read Free Page A

growing weaker by the second. "The words ... they .. . they'll be needed .. . when the time .. . o' the dream ... is at hand. Now, repeat fter me .. ."
    "But—"
    "Do it!" There was a ferocity to Crionna's command that had Caitlin nodding, despite the tears still coursing down her cheeks.
    " A Mhathair Mor ," the bhean uasal chanted, "go maire tu i bhfad! Nar lige ..."
    Concentrating on the Gaelic words, Caitlin made herself remember them the very first time. Saying them even once seemed to be costing Crionna the last of her strength; Caitlin would not make her repeat them.
    The bhean nasal's eyes closed as the girl gave them back to her. Caitlin's were so blurred by tears, she could barely see the old woman's face. Next, she promised to use the chant when the need was upon her. They both knew she did this reluctantly, and solely for the bhean uasal . She was helpless not to, for she was granting a dying wish.
    As she breathed her last, Crionna could only hope it would be enough.

Chapter 1
    London, Spring 1816
    "I shall never forgive you for this, m'lord—never!"
    Lord Adam Lightfoot, fifth marquis of Ravenskeep, ran a bored gaze over his wife. Not for the first time in their seven-year marriage, he wondered what had possessed him to wed her. He supposed Lucinda had been pretty in a bland sort of way. Once. Now he couldn't get past the sour lines of dissatisfaction about her mouth, the irritating whine in her voice.
    "Save your histrionics for the rustic set, m'dear," he drawled. "I fear I find them rather ... tedious."
    Lucinda shrieked, and lunged at him, her fingers curved like talons. Adam didn't doubt she'd have clawed his face if he let her. He caught her wrists an instant before her nails raked his skin.
    "My souvenir from the French will suffice, Lucinda. I hardly require others to keep it company." Irritation mingled with disgust as he thrust her from him.
    The marchioness eyed the line of newly healed flesh on his face; the work of a French saber, it ran from the top of his high, sculpted cheekbone to the edge of his perfectly chiseled lips. "What?" she sneered. "Afraid Vanessa Marley won't be able to abide you in her bed, m'lord?"
    Adam wondered briefly where she'd learned about Vanessa; he'd hardly had time to break in his latest mistress. This only served to inform him Lucinda had already been in town too long to suit him. Ton gossip invariably found its way to willing ears. It was why he'd determined to keep his wife neatly tucked away on his country estate when he came up for the Season.
    But Lucinda had tried to thwart those plans. She'd followed him up to London without his leave, which was bad enough; that she'd dragged their young son with her was reprehensible. He'd be damned if he'd let her use Andrew as a weapon to achieve her selfish ends!
    "Well?" Lucinda carped bitterly. "It's true, isn't it? Vanessa Marley's the reason you're sending me back to Kent. You don't want the inconvenience of a wife complicating your disgusting—"
    "Spare me your petty jealousies, Lucinda." Adam pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. Damnation, how he hated these scenes! "It isn't as if my lifestyle's a secret. I made it clear from the start, I'd no intention of giving it up. Or were you too busy congratulating yourself on snaring a rich tide to pay attention?"
    "You bastard! I did my duty. You had your precious heir—in less than a year's time! Why shouldn't I enjoy the Season in town? Other wives—"
    "Your duty,"he spat. "That's all it ever was to you, wasn't it, Lucinda? Bloody hell! It's a wonder Andrew exists at all, given the ice between your thighs!"
    Ignoring her gasp, Adam closed the distance between them. He caught her arm when she raised it to strike him. A tight smile spread across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. With his free hand, he cupped one of the breasts that filled the muslin bodice of her high-waisted gown. Lightly abrading its center with his thumb, he awaited the