If He's Daring Read Free

ever spent time with any child. Catryn feared what the man would do when he became aware of Alwyn’s habit of talking to people who were not there, such as his dead father. She had worked hard to make Alwyn understand that he needed to hide that little quirk, for it bothered, even frightened, too many people, but he was only five years old. She could not be certain he truly understood the danger.
    The first of the obstacles she had worried about arrived an hour later, and she had to wonder if the Fates were working against her. The team was beginning to lag. Shaking free of her troubled thoughts, she briefly considered pushing them harder and then softly cursed. Catryn knew she now faced the same choice she had been forced to make with her mare Sorley. The only difference was that these horses simply needed a rest.
    She pushed aside all thought that she was doomed in her quest to catch Morris, as well as the unkind thoughts she nursed about the man whose carriage she had stolen and the lack of stamina in his horses. It would do her no good to run the animals until they could run no more. She might gain on Morris for a little while, but she would lose him again when she was forced to stop and hunt down a new team. Morris would also have to rest his horses at some point along the way. Catryn began to search for a safe place to allow the horses to rest, perhaps one with both water and some grazing space.
    An hour passed before she found the perfect spot. Catryn carefully drove the carriage off the road onto a grassy clearing near a brook. The moment she got down from the driver’s perch, she knew it was not only the horses that needed a rest. She had to hang on to the side of the carriage for a moment until her legs stopped shaking. There was not one single place on her body that did not ache, but her arms and upper back pained her the most. She was going to pay very dearly for this adventure.
    Just as she was rubbing her aching bottom, a young voice said from behind her, “Arse hurting you, is it?”
    Catryn spun around so quickly she stumbled back several steps as she struggled to keep her balance. A young boy stood there, grinning at her, his blue eyes shining with laughter. With his thick black hair tumbling around his face in waves that came perilously close to being curls, he was an astonishingly pretty boy. She judged him to be several years older than her son and wondered where he had come from. It was late in the day for a boy his age to be wandering the countryside all alone.
    “Who are you and where did you come from?” she asked.
    “I am Giles Wherlocke and I was sitting in the carriage you nicked. Who are you?”
    “Lady Catryn Gryffin de Warrenne.”
    By the time she finished telling him her name the full import of what he had said had seeped into her mind. Catryn stared at the boy in growing horror. There was no denying the truth that now blazed across her mind, however. In her blind desperation to get her son back, she had stolen away another person’s son.
    “Sweet mercy,” she muttered. “Your parents are going to see me hanged for this.”
    “Only have the one parent, m’lady. Only have my father, Sir Orion Wherlocke. Truth be told, a fair number of people have taken to stealing his carriage of late, though those people were all his own kin. You are not kin, I am thinking. Not with that red hair. So why did you have such need for my father’s carriage? And, I do say, you held off Cody right fine, you did. Did not know a proper lady could hold a pistol that steady.”
    Even though she was a little bemused by the way he spoke with an odd mixture of proper and not so proper English, Catryn did notice that the boy did not assure her that she would face no punishment for what she had done. “I needed it.”
    “Why? You be a proper lady and all. You must have one of your own.”
    “My horse came up lame and I needed the carriage to continue my hunt for the man who stole my son. I could not afford to