Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 Read Free Page A

father, and—”
    “A contract that you have broken, not I. Can I help it if you choose to let me go?”
    “I—”
    “Our meeting is at an end, Lady Genevieve…unless you are willing to renegotiate the bank notice.”
    Genevieve looked away. She stared at the wall for innumerable seconds before finally, as though defeated, she uttered, “I cannot.”
    The young assistant drew his lips together until they looked more a thin, painted line than mere lips, rife with outright hatred. He said, “Then we have nothing further to discuss, do we, Lady Genevieve? No,” he continued as she made to rise. “I will show myself out.”
    And with these parting words, Mr. Toddman propelled himself forward and quickly left the room.
    “Excuse me.”
    Genevieve glanced over toward the door, her gaze troubled. “Yes?”she asked abstractedly. “What is it, Robert?”
    “It’s your father, milady. He—”
    “My father?”
    “Yes, milady. He’s had a fall. He tried to get up from bed, and—”
    “Where is he now?”
    “He is back in his bedroom, milady, and I—”
    “Summon a doctor at once, Robert.”
    “It has been done, milady.”
    Genevieve had already risen and was most of the way across the parlor room when she paused mid-stride, looking up toward the domestic who stood beside the entryway. “Thank you, Robert. Bring the doctor upstairs as soon as he arrives.”
    “Yes,milady. Will you require anything else?”
    “No, Robert, except…” Genevieve took a few more steps toward the hall. She gave the man a shy smile. “Thank you again, Robert. I don’t know what my father and I would do without you. You’re probably the best friend we’ve ever had. I hope you know that we will always appreciate your loyalty to us.”
    And to Robert’s “Yes, milady,” Lady Genevieve fled from the room.
     
     
    “Father, what have you done this time?” Genevieve practically flew across her father’s bedroom to Viscount Rohan’s side. “You know the doctor told you to stay in bed until you are fully healed of this gout.”
    She stopped and bent down to place a kiss on the man’s forehead. “If you will only heed the doctor’s advice, it will not be that much longer before you can be up and about, and doing all the things you need to.” She stopped when she noticed that her father had barely even heard her. She glanced downward to find a letter in his hands.
    “Blackfeet” was the only word she caught in the letter before her father’s hand fell toward the floor, the paper dropping at the same time.
    “What is it this time, Father?” she asked, kneeling down to pick up the letter.
    “Blackfeet,” was all he muttered.
    Genevieve spared a quick glance upward. Not again. First Mr. Toddman, and now her father. Was there to be no end to the problems this tribe presented them?
    “The Blackfeet again, Father? What has happened now?”
    Her father didn’t answer, and Genevieve darted a quick look at the viscount.
    He made no response.
    She sighed. How could one ignorant and savage tribe cause them such havoc?
    “Father,” she said, “I know the Blackfoot Indians have caused us some problems, and believe me, I am aware of the difficulty you face. I, too, have heard the legends of these people. I’ve listened to the stories the trappers tell of them; I’ve heard of how no one can go into Blackfoot country and live to tell of it, of how this tribe guards their territory so well that only the foolhardy will venture into their realm. How could I not? It’s all anyone ever talks of, if I so much as even hint at their name. But really, Father, we have to come to terms with them if ever we are to finish this project.”
    Her father hadn’t heard a word. He just stared away from her, the paleness of his face, the dejection in his manner, a testimony to his distress.
    She frowned. “Father?”
    Still, he didn’t answer.
    What were they going to do about the Blackfeet? They needed a study of them, and yet…
    “Is it