Read Online Miss Gabriel's Gambit by Rita Boucher - Free Book Online Page B

gone.”
    Abruptly the weight shifted, then disappeared. The restraint removed, Sylvia rolled, grabbing the dagger as she staggered to her feet. Breathing raggedly, she attempted to focus through the haze of terror.
    “You can put the khanda down now, Kali,” David urged softly, cursing himself for a fool. He should have known better than to come at her from behind and startle her so. Primal fear had pushed her beyond reason; the feral instinct of self-preservation was all that he could see in those green eyes . He doubted that Sylvia even recognized him in her present state. “The cur and his dog are gone and there is no need to cut my Weston coat to shreds, however you might deplore the fit.”
    Memory at last penetrated the curtain of shock. Her arm slowly dropped to her side, the blade slipping from suddenly lax fingers with a soft thud as its point embedded itself in the muddy ground.
    “Much better,” David said with relief as he watched the awareness return to her face. “You are safe, Kali. Foolishly brave, with that temple dance of yours, but you are safe now.”
    She stood watching him in a trembling quiet, far more disturbing than any tears or female frenzy. David moved toward her, uncertain. His senses urged him to gather her into his arms, to hold her, comfort her, but any move on his part might drive her into panic once more. So, as the moments passed, all he could do was watch and wait for the inevitable onset of hysteria
    “You - called me - ‘Kali.’” Sylvia whispered, her voice coming out in something of a croak. “If you heard that much - milord, why in Heaven’s name - did you not chase the devil off sooner?”
    “Unfortunately, with all your moving about it was difficult to get a clear shot,” David said, his face splitting into a relieved grin at this unexpected scold.
    “Capering about like a lunatic was the only defense I could muster,” Sylvia admitted. “I can barely carve a chicken.”
    The attempt at humor was surprising. A most remarkable woman. How had he ever thought her deficient in wit? Although her voice and demeanor were still strained, there would likely be no sobbing or weeping. “You gave a masterful performance, Miss Gabriel. Most frightening.”
    “Was I, indeed?” she said, taking deep ragged breaths. Although the sun was on her back, she felt horribly cold. “Sh- shall I consider the stage then?”
    “I am sure that you would put Mrs. Siddons upon her mettle,” he said, trying to keep his voice soothing.
    “You should see to your servant,” Sylvia said, “He took a bad fall.”
    When David made a tentative move in his servant’s direction, Harjit shook his head. “I am well enough,” he said, rolling to his knees.
    “Would I match Mrs. Siddons’ excellent Lady Macbeth, do you think?” Sylvia asked. “The morning has grown chilly, don’t you agree?”
    “You would make an excellent murderess, but a most untidy one,” he said, deliberately emulating her tone of gallows humor in an effort to erase the terror from her eyes. Her face was still stark white and her words were almost coming in gasps now. She was starting to shiver violently. He had seen much the same reactions in soldiers after a battle, when they came to the realization of the consequences that “might have been.” Peeling off his jacket, David draped the garment over her trembling shoulders.
    Sylvia pulled the jacket close about her, grateful for the warmth. In her still-agitated state she found the scents of horse and man that rose from the fabric were curiously comforting. Even the frantic thump of her heart seemed to slow. “You milord, are something of a mess yourself,” Sylvia declared, smiling at last.
    Despite a coating of dirt on her cheek, there was something about that smile that made his heart skip a beat. “That is most unfair of you, Lady Macbeth, or should I say ‘Kali?’ You are responsible for my roll in the mud. But then, there are some, including my friend Petrov