Savage Thunder Read Free Page B

I’d turn you in myself. Go against me and I’ll take the law into my own hands, I swear to God I will. I ought to anyway,” Jessie ended with a measure of self-disgust as she turned away.
    “Shit,” Walter grumbled behind her. “He’s only a damn half-breed.”
    Jessie swung around, her turquoise eyes blazing. “You bastard! You lowlife, worthless bastard! That’s my brother you nearly killed! Say one more word to me and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes!”
    She gave him two seconds to see if he would call her on this last warning, then turned away to return to Colt. His eyes were open. They stared at each other a long moment.
    “You…knew?”
    “Not always. Did you know?”
    “When I…left.”
    She put a finger to his lips very gently. “I’m surprised she told you at all. I had always wondered about the affinity I felt for you, but not for your sister or brothers. I finally asked your mother right out. She wouldn’t answer. It couldn’t have been something she would have wanted to admit, that her oldest daughter wasn’t the only one to bear my father a child. But that she wouldn’t deny it was answer enough for me, especially since I so wanted it to be true.”
    “Jessie, don’t you think this conversation ought to wait for a better time?” Chase said.
    She nodded and let her finger trail away in a loving caress across Colt’s cheek. It was the signal for the two men standing behind him to step forward and grasp his arms. Colt closed his eyes again when Chase moved directly in front of him.
    “Sorry, my friend.”
    “Don’t be an ass, Chase,” Jessie said matter-of-factly, earning an I’ll-get-you-later-for-that-crack glance from her husband, which she typically ignored. “It’s the only thing he’ll have to be grateful for on this hellish day. Get it over with.”
    Chase did, drawing back his fist and letting fly with it toward Colt’s jaw.

Chapter Two
    Cheshire, England, 1878
    V anessa Britten ignored the embroidery in her lap and watched the duchess complete another circle of the room. She wouldn’t exactly call it pacing the floorboards. She doubted the girl was even aware that she was wearing a path in the fine Eastern carpet.
    Who would have thought the duchess would even care about the little tragedy taking place upstairs. Vanessa certainly hadn’t thought it was possible when she had accepted the position as companion to the nineteen-year-old duchess just last month. It was such a common thing, young girls wedding older lords for their wealth and titles. And Jocelyn Fleming had latched onto one of the best catches, Edward Fleming, sixth Duke of Eaton, in his late middle years and already ailing when they wed last year.
    But it didn’t take long for Vanessa to change her opinion of the young Duchess of Eaton. Oh, she had certainly been destitute when the duke had proposed to her. Her father had owned a stud farm in Devonshire, one of the finest in England, if Jocelyn could be believed. But like a great many of his contemporaries, he was a man who had a detrimental fondness for gambling, and when he died, he was so in debt that Jocelyn was left without a farthing. Edward Fleming had literally saved the poor girl from what was considered the worst of the worst for a gently reared lady—seeking employment.
    Vanessa could only have said “Good show” to such a feat. She loved success stories, wasn’t the type to begrudge another a little good fortune or a lot, as in the duchess’s case. But Jocelyn Fleming wasn’t the fortune huntress she had first assumed her to be.
    Vanessa had lived too many years in London, where her peers were a cold-blooded lot, out for anything and everything they could get. Jocelyn wouldn’t know how to be cold-blooded if she tried. She was too naive by half, too open and trusting, too innocent to be believed. And yet she really was exactly what she seemed. The most amazing thing about her was that she really loved the man who was at this moment