Reckless Read Free Page A

indeed."
    "I am not stealing from you, my lord." Phoebe reached up to the brim of her small hat and lowered the second layer of the dark veil. One layer might not be enough to conceal her features inside the cottage. "I consider us rivals, not enemies."
    "There is little difference when it comes to this sort of thing. Be warned, madam. You may have pushed your luck too far with this night's work."
    Phoebe knocked quickly. "Do not fret, Wylde. I am certain there will be other opportunities for you to win in this game."
    "No doubt." Gabriel's eyes were on Phoebe's heavily veiled face as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. "I shall certainly make it a point in the future to provide you with more of a challenge than I have thus far."
    "I have been quite satisfied with the challenge to date," Phoebe said as the door was unlatched inside. Sparring with Wylde was akin to dragging a chunk of raw meat in front of a tiger. A dangerous business, to say the least. But she must keep him intrigued, she reminded herself. If he lost interest, he might simply vanish into the night. Once again she could only regret the current shortage of knights-errant. Selection was limited.
    "If you are satisfied with the challenge thus far," Gabriel said, "it is only because you have been winning. That is about to change."

Chapter 2
    The door of Nash's cottage opened and a stout, middle-aged housekeeper in a dingy cap and apron peered out.
    "Who be you?" the woman demanded in a suspicious tone.
    "Kindly tell your master that the person to whom he recently sold a medieval manuscript has arrived to collect it," Phoebe said. She glanced into the hall behind the woman. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls. Each shelf was crammed full with leather-bound volumes. More books were stacked in piles on the floor.
    "So he's sold off another one, eh?" The housekeeper nodded with obvious satisfaction. "Well, now, that's a blessing. He's behind on me wages again. Owes me a packet, he does. I'm going' to see to it he pays me afore he settles up with the tradesmen this time. Weren't nothing' left by the time he got around to me last quarter."
    "Nash sold an item from his collection to pay his bills last quarter?" Gabriel asked as he strode into the tiny hall behind Phoebe. His heavy coat swirled around the tops of his beautifully polished Hessians.
    "Egan finally talked him into it. You'd have thought Mr. Nash was getting' a tooth pulled." The housekeeper sighed as she closed the door. "The master cannot bear to part with any of them old books of his. They're all he cares about."
    "Who is Egan?" Phoebe asked.
    "The master's son. Comes by to see to things once in a while, thank the lord, or else nothin' at all would get done around here." The housekeeper led the way down the hall. "Don't know what we'd have done if Egan hadn't convinced Mr. Nash to sell off one or two of them dirty old books. Starve to death, more'n likely."
    Phoebe glanced covertly at Gabriel, who was examining the shabby, book-filled hall. He had removed his hat. She studied him with the new, heightened awareness that he had ignited in her. In the dim glow of the flickering candlelight his hair was still as black as midnight, just as she remembered. There was a faint trace of silver at the temples. But then, he was thirty-four now, she reminded herself. And the silver was oddly attractive.
    Eight years ago she had thought him rather old. Now he seemed exactly the right age. Her gloved fingers tightened around a fold of her purple riding habit. She lifted the small train to clear a pile of books. The rising sense of anticipation inside her had nothing to do with collecting the manuscript or convincing Gabriel to help her in her quest to discover Neil's murderer.
    It had everything to do with Gabriel himself.
    Dear heaven, this was getting dangerous indeed, Phoebe thought. This sort of emotional complication was the last thing she needed at the moment. She must keep a clear head and