Read Online Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) by Jo Beverley - Free Book Online

twitching lips. “She’s probably toiling over her cauldron, perfecting a spell to turn you into a toad.”
    *  *  *
    Claris spent a restless night, her problems building to horrors, as such things do. Morning light brought some sanity, and she persuaded herself that he wouldn’t try to take her to court over the pistol. He wanted to marry her, not throw her in jail, but how could she convince him she’d never marry him, no matter how he pestered her?
    When she found herself taking down one of her better skirts and bodices, she put both back on their hooks and dressed in the black again. It suited her mood and she didn’t want Pestilential Perriam to think she sought to please.
    She went into the garden to let out the chickens, aware that the weather was in tune with her mind. The sky was overcast and threatened rain. Perhaps the fine gentleman wouldn’t want to get his London clothes wet. She collected the eggs and returned to help with breakfast. The boys staggered in with fresh water from the village well. Soon they’d eaten and were setting off for the two-mile walk to Hutton Vill and their lessons.
    “Study well!” Claris called after them.
    Father had insisted on educating them to save money, but he’d not had the patience for it. Despite her efforts to help, they were sadly behind for their age, especially in Latin and Greek. Reverend Johnson was striving to get them ready to go to Dr. Porter’s School in Winchester.
    She wished she could afford to send them to Winchester College, which had an excellent reputation, but the fees were too high. Peter was clever and might obtain free admission as a poor scholar, but Tom was slower, and she knew they’d not separate.
    When educated, what profession could they aim for? Reverend Johnson had suggested the navy, which they could enter soon, with no money needed. She couldn’t bear the thought. She returned to the kitchen to make bread. Kneading dough was exceptionally soothing.
    Pestilential Perriam did not come.
    She knew it was too early, but even so she pounded at him through the dough for drawing out the torture, her temper rising.
    Ellie was preparing damsons for jam, and Athena was going between her herb garden and her stillroom. He was keeping them all waiting.
    She set the bread to rise and looked for another job. Athena came in from the garden with a basketful of seed heads.
    “I want a pistol,” Claris said. “Loaded and ready.”
    Athena considered her and then nodded. “Very well.” She went upstairs.
    “You sure, dearie?” Ellie asked. “You don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”
    “I’ll regret it if I let that man force me to the altar. Regret it all my days.”
    “I’m sure you know best.”
    Claris wasn’t, but she wouldn’t be forced. She would not!
    Athena returned. “It’s not cocked. To do that, you pull back this hammer on top all the way.” She did so. It made two clicks. “Half cock then full cock. Now, if I were to squeeze back the trigger with my finger, the gun would fire. Be careful. This trigger is eased to suit my old fingers. To uncock it I pull back again and carefully ease the flint down. Take it outside and practice the action. Don’t point it at anything you don’t want to kill.”
    As if alarmed, Yatta ran upstairs.
    Claris took the pistol outside. It seemed heavier than yesterday, but then, this was Athena’s, not Ellie’s. She just managed to pull back the hammer with her thumb.
    Click. Click.
    She couldn’t squeeze the trigger without firing it. She pointed it at the cherry tree and imagined doing it.
    Yes, she could.
    If threatened, she could.
    She very carefully eased the hammer back down.
    Click. Click.
    Her hands were shaking, but she was ready. If he attempted abduction, she could hold him off. She returned to the kitchen and put the pistol on a shelf; then she looked around for something to do. . . .
    There was a rap at the door.
    Ellie moved to clean her hands, but Claris said,