swallowed up in the throng of marketers. Why the devil didn’t the Cougar just send him a note to meet him at the abandoned house? And why on earth use a lady in this dangerous business? And if a lady must be used, why couldn’t she be pretty at least?
Chapter Two
The wind soughing through the meadow carried the autumnal scent of foliage in decay. Leaves matted the withered grass underfoot, beginning the process of returning to soil. The measured clip clop of hooves and the clink of the bridle were nearly obliterated by the wind as Amy cantered across the field to the abandoned house at Three Corners.
Ahead, the silhouette of the house formed a pattern of rectangles and triangles against the pewter sky. Shadows of twilight were already lengthening at five o’clock, in the short days of October. The setting sun cast a lurid light on the long, gray layers of cloud overhead and painted the windows of the house in leaping flames of red and orange. Stark branches of nearly leafless oak clawed at the sky as the wind blew, scattering the last leaves.
She tethered her bay mare to a tree and waited under the overhanging roof of the back porch for the Wolf’s arrival. Instinct told her he would be late, if he came at all. She was relieved to hear the quiet beat of hooves on the roadway beyond at precisely five o’clock. She waited, but when he didn’t come around to the rear of the house, she went forward and beckoned him to join her.
Amy’s determination to keep the upper hand wavered when she was confronted by the imposing form of the Wolf. She spoke in the curt voice of authority to lend her a confidence she was far from feeling.
“Bring your mount. It can be seen from the road,” she ordered.
He glared and followed her in silence. The rising wind whipped her skirt and nearly dislodged Ravencroft’s hat. “We’ll talk here, where no one will see us,” she said, leading him to the back door.
Ravencroft followed her, still glaring, still silent. He looped the reins around the tree and turned to face her. When he spoke, his words were brief and his voice was low, buzzing with authority. “I came here to meet the Cougar. Where is he?”
That voice left her in no doubt as to his intentions. “I’m afraid it is impossible for you to meet him at the moment,” she replied coolly. “I am acting with his full authority in his stead.”
His black eyebrows lowered and his nostrils flared. “You are acting demmed foolishly, in my view,” he spat back. “Bringing me here to this godforsaken spot on a fool’s errand. Even the password – ‘warm for the time of year,’ was nonsense. It feels like December.” He gave an involuntary shiver as the wind whistled past, stirring the branches.
“I suggested that greeting as most people would say it was chilly,” she explained. “It would have meant nothing if I had said it was chilly. And we are meeting here as it is private.”
“It’s on the main road! I passed half a dozen carriages. There are probably squatters in the house this minute. These abandoned houses are a magnet for tramps and smugglers.”
“No one would dare squat here. It is Lord Ashworth’s property. He has them shot off. He uses this as a sort of bolt hole, in case of trouble. He would like me to acquaint you with its features,” she said, drawing a key from her pocket.
“I would like you to tell me why I am here!”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked the door and stepped into a derelict kitchen, dimly lit by one window. “The house hasn’t been lived in for several years,” she said, “but it has been outfitted with the essentials. Fresh water is kept in that copper tank in the corner. The stove works.” She nodded to a cast iron stove in the corner, on which rested a kettle and a pot. A tinder box and a pile of wood sat beside it on the floor.
“There are blankets, food, brandy and wine, medical supplies.” Her complacent expression as she looked around
Chapter Two
The wind soughing through the meadow carried the autumnal scent of foliage in decay. Leaves matted the withered grass underfoot, beginning the process of returning to soil. The measured clip clop of hooves and the clink of the bridle were nearly obliterated by the wind as Amy cantered across the field to the abandoned house at Three Corners.
Ahead, the silhouette of the house formed a pattern of rectangles and triangles against the pewter sky. Shadows of twilight were already lengthening at five o’clock, in the short days of October. The setting sun cast a lurid light on the long, gray layers of cloud overhead and painted the windows of the house in leaping flames of red and orange. Stark branches of nearly leafless oak clawed at the sky as the wind blew, scattering the last leaves.
She tethered her bay mare to a tree and waited under the overhanging roof of the back porch for the Wolf’s arrival. Instinct told her he would be late, if he came at all. She was relieved to hear the quiet beat of hooves on the roadway beyond at precisely five o’clock. She waited, but when he didn’t come around to the rear of the house, she went forward and beckoned him to join her.
Amy’s determination to keep the upper hand wavered when she was confronted by the imposing form of the Wolf. She spoke in the curt voice of authority to lend her a confidence she was far from feeling.
“Bring your mount. It can be seen from the road,” she ordered.
He glared and followed her in silence. The rising wind whipped her skirt and nearly dislodged Ravencroft’s hat. “We’ll talk here, where no one will see us,” she said, leading him to the back door.
Ravencroft followed her, still glaring, still silent. He looped the reins around the tree and turned to face her. When he spoke, his words were brief and his voice was low, buzzing with authority. “I came here to meet the Cougar. Where is he?”
That voice left her in no doubt as to his intentions. “I’m afraid it is impossible for you to meet him at the moment,” she replied coolly. “I am acting with his full authority in his stead.”
His black eyebrows lowered and his nostrils flared. “You are acting demmed foolishly, in my view,” he spat back. “Bringing me here to this godforsaken spot on a fool’s errand. Even the password – ‘warm for the time of year,’ was nonsense. It feels like December.” He gave an involuntary shiver as the wind whistled past, stirring the branches.
“I suggested that greeting as most people would say it was chilly,” she explained. “It would have meant nothing if I had said it was chilly. And we are meeting here as it is private.”
“It’s on the main road! I passed half a dozen carriages. There are probably squatters in the house this minute. These abandoned houses are a magnet for tramps and smugglers.”
“No one would dare squat here. It is Lord Ashworth’s property. He has them shot off. He uses this as a sort of bolt hole, in case of trouble. He would like me to acquaint you with its features,” she said, drawing a key from her pocket.
“I would like you to tell me why I am here!”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked the door and stepped into a derelict kitchen, dimly lit by one window. “The house hasn’t been lived in for several years,” she said, “but it has been outfitted with the essentials. Fresh water is kept in that copper tank in the corner. The stove works.” She nodded to a cast iron stove in the corner, on which rested a kettle and a pot. A tinder box and a pile of wood sat beside it on the floor.
“There are blankets, food, brandy and wine, medical supplies.” Her complacent expression as she looked around
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