Read Online A Distant Magic by Mary Jo Putney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Jo Putney
Ads: Link
rolled up to free her hands. Though she looked like a rag-picker, it was a relief to be out of her regular garments. She kept her knife and scrying glass on her, just in case she had a chance to escape.
For someone who had slept on stones and piles of bracken or heather, the hard bunk was comfortable enough. She pulled the blanket close against the chilly night air. Perhaps because she had slept earlier, she found it difficult to doze off.
A sailing ship was a living entity, a symphony of creaks and thumps as well as the steady splashing of water against the hull. She'd grown accustomed to sailing sounds on the voyage to Marseilles, had even found them friendly. Now she was intensely aware that this ship was taking her away from everything and everyone she knew.
Lady Bethany had said Jean would have an adventure. Surely she would have been more concerned if she'd sensed that Jean was going to be murdered out of hand by a vengeful pirate? If this was merely an
"adventure," the implication was that Jean would survive. On that hopeful note, she finally dozed off.
For two days, she was alone except for the brief visits of the food sailors. The morning meal was some kind of stewed grain paste, probably wheat, with bits of dried fruit mixed in. Served with hot mint tea, it wasn't bad.
When she tired of cataloging her store of spells, she tried to remember poetry she'd memorized. She was definitely not cut out for long-term imprisonment.
Boredom ended on the third day when the door opened at midday, not a time when a meal was expected. She glanced up, her senses on high alert. Nicholas Gregorio filled the doorway, dark and threatening. Though he still wore impeccably tailored clothing and admirable boots, his garments were not those of a gentleman. With his head bare and a cutlass hanging at his side, he looked like a pirate. A disturbingly powerful and attractive pirate.
"So my kidnapper deigns to visit." She slid from the bed and stood with her back to the outside wall as she tried to read his energy. No luck—he was tightly shielded. He burned with leashed fury, and he was clearly the captain of this vessel, but those facts could be read in his face and bearing with no need for magic.
"Why am I here?"
His dark eyes glinted maliciously. "Letting you wonder suits my
purpose."
"Rubbish," she said impatiently. "You've kidnapped me, a woman
you've never met, and seem intent on destroying my life. At the least, you owe
me an explanation."
"Since you wish to know…" He closed the cabin door behind him with an ominous click.
"You are here because your father betrayed me in the vilest possible way. I
swore I would avenge myself against him and the house of Macrae. Since he is
dead, that means you and your brother must pay for your father's crimes."
Her jaw dropped with shock. "That's utter nonsense! My father was
the last man on earth to betray anyone. You must be mistaken."
"James Macrae of Dunrath, yes? Also known as Lord Ballister, with
a son and heir named Duncan. You confirmed that yourself. Or does Dunrath have
another Macrae claiming chieftainship?"
"No," she admitted. "But perhaps someone used his name falsely."
He snorted. "And this mysterious person had Guardian powers? You
are grasping at straws, madam."
She had to agree that such a deception was unlikely. "What is the
crime you accuse him of?"
A muscle jerked in the captain's cheek. "Your precious
father betrayed me into slavery. There is no punishment great enough for that."
Shock piled on shock. "No! My father would never do such a thing!"
"No?" His smile was bitter. "I was there, madam. You were not."
"Tell me what happened." When he didn't reply, she added,
"I'll need a great deal of convincing to believe such slander. At the moment, I
believe you're deranged."
"It doesn't matter whether or not you believe." He moved forward a step, close enough to touch her if he chose. A thin, almost invisible scar curved from his left jaw into
For someone who had slept on stones and piles of bracken or heather, the hard bunk was comfortable enough. She pulled the blanket close against the chilly night air. Perhaps because she had slept earlier, she found it difficult to doze off.
A sailing ship was a living entity, a symphony of creaks and thumps as well as the steady splashing of water against the hull. She'd grown accustomed to sailing sounds on the voyage to Marseilles, had even found them friendly. Now she was intensely aware that this ship was taking her away from everything and everyone she knew.
Lady Bethany had said Jean would have an adventure. Surely she would have been more concerned if she'd sensed that Jean was going to be murdered out of hand by a vengeful pirate? If this was merely an
"adventure," the implication was that Jean would survive. On that hopeful note, she finally dozed off.
For two days, she was alone except for the brief visits of the food sailors. The morning meal was some kind of stewed grain paste, probably wheat, with bits of dried fruit mixed in. Served with hot mint tea, it wasn't bad.
When she tired of cataloging her store of spells, she tried to remember poetry she'd memorized. She was definitely not cut out for long-term imprisonment.
Boredom ended on the third day when the door opened at midday, not a time when a meal was expected. She glanced up, her senses on high alert. Nicholas Gregorio filled the doorway, dark and threatening. Though he still wore impeccably tailored clothing and admirable boots, his garments were not those of a gentleman. With his head bare and a cutlass hanging at his side, he looked like a pirate. A disturbingly powerful and attractive pirate.
"So my kidnapper deigns to visit." She slid from the bed and stood with her back to the outside wall as she tried to read his energy. No luck—he was tightly shielded. He burned with leashed fury, and he was clearly the captain of this vessel, but those facts could be read in his face and bearing with no need for magic.
"Why am I here?"
His dark eyes glinted maliciously. "Letting you wonder suits my
purpose."
"Rubbish," she said impatiently. "You've kidnapped me, a woman
you've never met, and seem intent on destroying my life. At the least, you owe
me an explanation."
"Since you wish to know…" He closed the cabin door behind him with an ominous click.
"You are here because your father betrayed me in the vilest possible way. I
swore I would avenge myself against him and the house of Macrae. Since he is
dead, that means you and your brother must pay for your father's crimes."
Her jaw dropped with shock. "That's utter nonsense! My father was
the last man on earth to betray anyone. You must be mistaken."
"James Macrae of Dunrath, yes? Also known as Lord Ballister, with
a son and heir named Duncan. You confirmed that yourself. Or does Dunrath have
another Macrae claiming chieftainship?"
"No," she admitted. "But perhaps someone used his name falsely."
He snorted. "And this mysterious person had Guardian powers? You
are grasping at straws, madam."
She had to agree that such a deception was unlikely. "What is the
crime you accuse him of?"
A muscle jerked in the captain's cheek. "Your precious
father betrayed me into slavery. There is no punishment great enough for that."
Shock piled on shock. "No! My father would never do such a thing!"
"No?" His smile was bitter. "I was there, madam. You were not."
"Tell me what happened." When he didn't reply, she added,
"I'll need a great deal of convincing to believe such slander. At the moment, I
believe you're deranged."
"It doesn't matter whether or not you believe." He moved forward a step, close enough to touch her if he chose. A thin, almost invisible scar curved from his left jaw into
Similar Books
