Read Online Hoarfrost (Whyborne & Griffin Book 6) by Jordan L. Hawk - Free Book Online
Authors: Jordan L. Hawk
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were lean and tough as whips, their skin rough
and features hardened from the demands of frontier life. Whyborne, to be
charitable, was not the most athletic of men. I looked at him and saw the brave
man I’d fallen in love with, not to mention a powerful sorcerer. But a stranger
likely wouldn’t see anything beyond his bookish appearance.
I smiled
ruefully. “I can’t argue with your assessment. But don’t worry. I won’t say I
think he’ll enjoy our expedition, but he’ll endure it well enough.”
“I’ll
take your word for it.” Jack laid down his cards. “Straight flush.”
“Curse
it,” I said good-naturedly. “Four of a kind. Shall we play again?”
Chapter 11
Whyborne
I lay
rigidly on my back in the bed. To my left, a bony man twitched and muttered in
his sleep. To my right, an enormous fellow let out snores that could probably
be heard in Canada. The bunk above us sagged alarmingly, and the entire room
echoed to a chorus of snores, wheezing, and other, even more indelicate sounds.
I doubted most of the men had bathed this week, and those who didn’t reek of
sweat were pickled in alcohol.
At least
it was warm. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?
The
squirmer on my left flung a loose arm over my chest. “Mabel,” he mumbled.
Enough.
I could take no more. I didn’t know who Mabel might be, but I certainly had no
desire to take on her role. Given his breath, the real Mabel probably wouldn’t
have either.
I slid
out of the covers and climbed rather awkwardly over the large man on my right. “Sorry,
sorry,” I whispered, and hoped he didn’t take my inadvertent groping the wrong
way. I rather liked my teeth where they were. Fortunately, he only snorted
sleepily and rolled over. Freed at last, I found my sealskin boots, scarf,
moose hide mittens, and twill parka amidst the other jumble of clothing.
Where I
meant to go, I didn’t know, exactly. Perhaps I could order a drink at the
saloon downstairs and pretend to pass out. Would they leave me there unmolested
as I’d already paid for a bed? Or perhaps one of the prostitutes would let me
sleep in her tent if I offered her ordinary rate. Did they charge by the hour
or the customer?
I
imagined someone spotting me emerging from a prostitute’s tent and felt faint.
Perhaps not.
The
crowd at the saloon had thinned considerably. Griffin and Jack sat not far from
the stove, playing cards. I started toward them, then caught myself. Griffin
surely wanted time to get to know Jack on his own, without my hovering.
I hadn’t
imagined it would bother me for Jack not to know of our relationship. And yet I
couldn’t help but think how different the situation would have been, had I been
Griffin’s wife instead of his husband. All other things aside, Jack would have
looked on me as part of his family, someone who had a right to Griffin’s
affection and something of a claim on his.
For all
the terrible things I could say about Father—and heavens knew I had
plenty—he’d made Griffin a part of family gatherings even before Mother went
to the sea. True, most of his acceptance stemmed from the fact he viewed me as
illogically obstinate on all points, and thus knew he might as well resign
himself to my male lover, as I wouldn’t change to please him or anyone else.
And of
course Mother adored Griffin from the first. Persephone appeared fond of him,
but the ketoi didn’t seem remotely interested whether or not the sex of one’s
spouse matched one’s own. In truth, I had far more family—and
friends—who understood our relationship than I had any right to expect.
How could I complain when Griffin’s family, adoptive or otherwise, didn’t
number among them?
Perhaps
a walk outside would clear my head. I pulled up my fur-lined hood, tugged on my
mittens, and slipped out through the door.
And
instantly regretted it. Dear heavens, it was cold. Not nearly as cold as it
would be in the interior, but enough to steal my breath and nip at
and features hardened from the demands of frontier life. Whyborne, to be
charitable, was not the most athletic of men. I looked at him and saw the brave
man I’d fallen in love with, not to mention a powerful sorcerer. But a stranger
likely wouldn’t see anything beyond his bookish appearance.
I smiled
ruefully. “I can’t argue with your assessment. But don’t worry. I won’t say I
think he’ll enjoy our expedition, but he’ll endure it well enough.”
“I’ll
take your word for it.” Jack laid down his cards. “Straight flush.”
“Curse
it,” I said good-naturedly. “Four of a kind. Shall we play again?”
Chapter 11
Whyborne
I lay
rigidly on my back in the bed. To my left, a bony man twitched and muttered in
his sleep. To my right, an enormous fellow let out snores that could probably
be heard in Canada. The bunk above us sagged alarmingly, and the entire room
echoed to a chorus of snores, wheezing, and other, even more indelicate sounds.
I doubted most of the men had bathed this week, and those who didn’t reek of
sweat were pickled in alcohol.
At least
it was warm. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?
The
squirmer on my left flung a loose arm over my chest. “Mabel,” he mumbled.
Enough.
I could take no more. I didn’t know who Mabel might be, but I certainly had no
desire to take on her role. Given his breath, the real Mabel probably wouldn’t
have either.
I slid
out of the covers and climbed rather awkwardly over the large man on my right. “Sorry,
sorry,” I whispered, and hoped he didn’t take my inadvertent groping the wrong
way. I rather liked my teeth where they were. Fortunately, he only snorted
sleepily and rolled over. Freed at last, I found my sealskin boots, scarf,
moose hide mittens, and twill parka amidst the other jumble of clothing.
Where I
meant to go, I didn’t know, exactly. Perhaps I could order a drink at the
saloon downstairs and pretend to pass out. Would they leave me there unmolested
as I’d already paid for a bed? Or perhaps one of the prostitutes would let me
sleep in her tent if I offered her ordinary rate. Did they charge by the hour
or the customer?
I
imagined someone spotting me emerging from a prostitute’s tent and felt faint.
Perhaps not.
The
crowd at the saloon had thinned considerably. Griffin and Jack sat not far from
the stove, playing cards. I started toward them, then caught myself. Griffin
surely wanted time to get to know Jack on his own, without my hovering.
I hadn’t
imagined it would bother me for Jack not to know of our relationship. And yet I
couldn’t help but think how different the situation would have been, had I been
Griffin’s wife instead of his husband. All other things aside, Jack would have
looked on me as part of his family, someone who had a right to Griffin’s
affection and something of a claim on his.
For all
the terrible things I could say about Father—and heavens knew I had
plenty—he’d made Griffin a part of family gatherings even before Mother went
to the sea. True, most of his acceptance stemmed from the fact he viewed me as
illogically obstinate on all points, and thus knew he might as well resign
himself to my male lover, as I wouldn’t change to please him or anyone else.
And of
course Mother adored Griffin from the first. Persephone appeared fond of him,
but the ketoi didn’t seem remotely interested whether or not the sex of one’s
spouse matched one’s own. In truth, I had far more family—and
friends—who understood our relationship than I had any right to expect.
How could I complain when Griffin’s family, adoptive or otherwise, didn’t
number among them?
Perhaps
a walk outside would clear my head. I pulled up my fur-lined hood, tugged on my
mittens, and slipped out through the door.
And
instantly regretted it. Dear heavens, it was cold. Not nearly as cold as it
would be in the interior, but enough to steal my breath and nip at
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