The Huntress Read Free Page A

jerkin. The garment was torn at the shoulder and was that a burn mark on the sleeve?
    “Oh, Cat, never tell me you have been fighting.”
    “Nay! Did I not promise you? I have not so much as had my sword drawn from its scabbard.” Some of Cat’s wounded indignation faded as she scratched her chin and confessed. “Well, only for a moment or two, but I sheathed it straightaway without so much as pricking anyone. As soon as I found those witches, I hastened back to make my report to you.”
    “Then you did find the coven?”
    Cat drew herself up. “Did you ever doubt that I would?”
    “No.” Ariane had more hoped that Cat wouldn’t, that all the rumors that had carried to Faire Isle would prove to be just wild tales and nothing more.
    “And…and so?” she faltered.
    “And so everything you feared is true. The Sisterhood of the Silver Rose still exists. Although there are not as many of them as before, they are recruiting new members. Unfortunately, I was interrupted before I could ascertain who leads them.” Cat bit her lip, looking chagrined and frustrated by her failure. “The witches wear masks to their gatherings, but they’ve all taken to marking themselves, searing the emblem of a tiny rose onto their right forearms. They are as fanatically devoted to Megaera as ever and determined to recover her. Somehow, they have discovered she was taken out of France. It may be only a matter of time before they find her. Or someone worse does.”
    Ariane paled at hearing her worst dread confirmed. She closed her eyes, swaying a little as her head swam.
    “My lady!” Cat cried. She slipped her arm about Ariane’s waist, bracing her. She guided Ariane toward one of the garden benches, easing her down onto the cold stone.
    Ariane bent forward, lowering her head, taking in long slow breaths until the garden began to stop spinning. Cat hunkered down in front of her, chafing her wrist, her voice full of concern.
    “What shall I do? Can I get you some water? Or should I summon milord to carry you into the house?”
    Ariane shook her head, straightening up as she recovered, feeling foolish over her display of weakness.
    “No, it’s nothing,” she insisted. “I occasionally get these spells of lightheadedness. Quite normal for a woman in my condition.”
    Cat scowled, looking far from convinced. “’Tis clear to me you have not been taking proper care of yourself. What were you doing out of your bed at such an hour? I am surprised himself would have allowed it, especially you being with child and all.”
    Ariane said nothing, but the guilty way she averted her face must have told Cat all she needed to know. The Irishwoman rocked back on her heels, groaning.
    “Ah, by all the saints. You haven’t told him yet. But isn’t that a bit daft? Milord is bound to notice soon. I am surprised he hasn’t already, himself being such a deep and clever one.”
    A half smile escaped Ariane at Cat’s description of Justice.
Himself,
as Cat so quaintly called him, was indeed clever. Ariane was highly skilled in reading eyes, those windows to the soul. With her steadfast gaze, she could take the measure of someone’s character and often read thoughts as well. But Justice was even better at it than she was, her husband having been schooled in the ancient art of mind reading by Melusine, his wicked old witch of a grandmother.
    Ariane and Justice were as close as man and wife could be, but she could shield her thoughts from him if she had to, although she’d had little cause to do so until recently. Justice had to be aware that she was closing him out, but he hadn’t pressed her, waiting for her to confide whatever secret she guarded so closely, trusting that she would.
    Ariane sighed. “It has been very wrong of me to conceal the babe from Justice. But, oh, Cat! You know I had given up hope of ever conceiving again. Is it so selfish of me to want to quietly savor my joy awhile longer? Because I know Justice won’t be able to