Jed's Sweet Revenge Read Free Page A

double-barrel pointed at me.”
    “You’re very wise. What do you want?”
    “Well, I came here to talk to a lady named Thena Sainte-Colbet.” He paused, and a trace of humor glimmered in his eyes. “The witch woman.” She made a huffing sound of offense. “Is that you, ma’am?” he asked politely.
    She hesitated, glaring down at him. “Yes! Go away before I turn you into a newt!”
    Jed wasn’t certain what a newt was, but for a second he entertained the notion that she just really might be able to make him into one.
    “Put that shotgun down before I have to come take it away from you,” he commanded in his deep, luscious drawl.
    “You talk big for a man alone, on foot, in the middle of my island.” The dangerous man would have a voice like low thunder, Beneba had said. Thena shivered. “You’re trespassing on Sancia Island. It’s private.”
    “I reckon it’s not your island, ma’am.”
    “You’re either very brave or very stupid then.”
    He was silent for a minute, studying her, thinking—or at least trying to think, looking at her made it difficult—about her accent. “I once met a carnival fortune-teller who talked somethin’ like you,” he said in a conversational tone. “She was from Louisiana. I bet you’re from there too. Which are you, Miss Witch—Cajun or Creole?”
    The sudden subject change distracted her, and he inched forward. “Neither. I was born here. My father was French and—stop right there!” Exasperated by his tactic, she pressed the shotgun tighter into her shoulder. “Don’t ask me questions. I’ll ask you. Tell me what you want! Are you here to hunt? To explore?” Her eyes narrowed angrily. “To steal?”
    “I refuse to answer on the grounds that you might blast me with that rabbit knocker.”
    “I might blast you anyway. You obstinate mainlander, you have five seconds to explain before I sic my dogs on you!”
    “I can’t talk that fast,” he said in that languid voice. Thena thought of Clint Eastwood. The man had hawk eyes and a fascinating face and the same laconic appeal … and why was she thinking such nonsense right now?
    “Your time is up,” she told him.
    “Now just hold your britches—” he started. Jed frowned in surprise as the mare suddenly reared. The dark-haired witch woman quickly adjusted her aim, and Jed cursed softly as he realized that he was about to be shot. Shot and mangled, because all three of her damned dogs were coming towards him.
    He leapt forward to grab the shotgun away, but too late. It roared with release. The pellets didn’t score a direct hit, but several ricocheted off a rock and struck his hand. Jed was dimly aware of the stinging pain as he grabbed Thena Sainte-Colbet, gun and all. The mare jumped in one direction and he pulled in the other, jerking the woman into his arms. They fell down, her scrambling, flailing body on top of his.
    “Stop it, you violent rogue!” she yelled, as he shoved the gun away and caught her wrists behind her back. “You awful ruffian!”
    He’d never had a woman call him such strange names before, like something out of a corny old movie. Jed almost felt like chuckling until he realized that the mare was going to paw his head off. And judging by the sound of their ferocious growling, the dogs wanted to help her kill him.
    “Back!” he instructed the animals in a fierce, authoritative voice. Struggling against his chest, her thighs helplessly straddling his lean hips, Thena thought for a second that even her loyal crew wouldn’t trespass on the stony control of the man’s voice. He was strong—strong-voiced and strong-bodied—and she might well be at his mercy.
    But no. He had to let go of her and cover his head as Cendrillon nearly caught his ear with a sharp forefoot. Rasputin—part Great Dane, part German Shepherd—grabbed one of his hands in a vicious grip. Thena rolled away, gasping for breath. She grabbed her shotgun, sat up, and angled it at his head.
    “Back!” she