Read Online Captain's Bride by Kat Martin - Free Book Online

could
hardly wait.
    “Aren’t you done yet, Mose?” Glory asked, glancing
up and down the dark, tree-lined lane. Only the lonely hooting of
an owl had kept them company until now, but as the moon rose above
the trees, Glory began to hear other sounds. She couldn’t make out
just exactly what they were, but they were ominous sounds, and
Glory was anxious to be on her way.
    “All set, Miz Glory.” Mose tottered over to the
calèche and climbed into the driver’s seat. He clucked the team of
matched sorrels into a trot, and the carriage rolled away.
    At first Glory breathed a sigh of relief. But as they
traveled farther down the lane, the ominous sounds grew louder. She
noticed old Mose glancing nervously from side to side, and a chill
of apprehension raced down her spine. The noises sounded closer
now—hounds baying, horses’ hooves thundering against the still-soft
earth. As her worry increased, her heart began to thud in rhythm to
the galloping beasts.
    Old Mose slapped the reins a little harder, urging
the team forward at a faster pace. As the tall pine forest rushed
past in a moonlit blur, Glory gripped the velvet seat to keep from
being tossed around inside the open carriage. Seeing a bend in the
road up ahead, Mose slowed the horses. At the same time, a small
Negro youth rushed from the side of the lane, forcing Mose to pull
up on the reins to avoid a collision. Just for a moment, the youth
froze in his tracks and Glory recognized Ephram’s brother, Willie.
Then he bolted toward the woods.
    “Willie, wait!” she cried out. “Not that way, they’ll
catch you for sure!”
    Willie turned and, recognizing Glory’s voice, raced
up beside the coach, his slender body bathed in sweat, his clothes
in shreds, his arms and legs scratched and bleeding. “Please, Miz
Glory,” he pleaded. “Dey’ll kill me for sure.”
    The echo of the lash rang in Glory’s ears. By some
miracle Ephram had survived the whipping. Little Willie had neither
his older brother’s size nor his stamina.
    The sounds were getting louder. Glory could hear
men’s voices as they called back and forth to each other, searching
determinedly for the runaway slave. The hoofbeats of their horses
were so loud she wondered how she could possibly hear the pounding
of her heart.
    “Please, Miss Glory,” Willie begged. “You da only
hope I got. Dey ain’t nobody else.”
    Glory glanced at the woods, ringing with the terrible
sounds of death, and back at the boy, who seemed nothing more than
two huge white-ringed eyes. “We’ve got to find someplace for you to
hide.”
    “There’s a tool box under my seat,” Mose offered.
“The boy is small enough to fit.”
    Glory hesitated only a moment. “Get in!” she ordered,
and Willie’s flashing smile was all the thanks she needed.
    “What the hell’s going on here?” Nicholas Blackwell
stormed onto the scene just as Willie lifted the canvas flap
concealing the tool box beneath Mose’s seat.
    An expression of terror frozen on her face, Glory
stared up at him, seated astride the big black. He looked ominous
and forbidding in his dark cloak, his features drawn and angry.
    “Please, Nicholas,” she pleaded, hands clutching the
folds of her skirt. “They’ll kill him if I don’t help. Just go back
up the road a little. No one will ever have to know you were
here.”
    Nicholas hesitated only a moment, his glance straying
to the woods, then back to the anxious face of the girl in the
carriage. “Do as she says,” he commanded the boy, and Willie
climbed into the box. “The dogs will pick up his scent,” he told
Glory. “Do you have anything we can use to distract them? Food
scraps, anything?”
    “I have some fried chicken Mrs. Allstor sent along.”
Nicholas dismounted. With trembling fingers, Glory hurriedly handed
him a small wicker basket from the seat beside her. She hadn’t
missed the word “we.” Gratitude surged through her, so potent it
made her feel weak.
    Nicholas looked into