Read Online Wicked Angel by Julia London - Free Book Online Page A

snapped.
    "His horse was injured! Should I have left him wandering about?"
    Mrs. Peterman gave her a stern look as she thrust a large bowl of stew at her. Lauren ignored it; she could not explain to herself, much less to Mrs. Peterman, that she might very well have escorted him to hell and back for one of his warm smiles. Or that her heart pounded at the sight of those powerful legs moving in those
very
tight buckskins. She marched to the dining area set up for the children and placed the bowl rather loudly on the old scarred table. It startled Theodore, whose nose was buried in a book.
    Just ten years old, he devoured every book brought into the house. Next to him was Sally, Theodore's charge for the day. Sally was only four, so her supervision was a responsibility shared by the older children.
    "Leonard said you brought a pirate to dinner," Theodore remarked hopefully.
    Lauren smiled and handed several wooden bowls to him, motioning for him to set the table. "Leonard is mistaken, darling. Mr. Christian is a gentleman with a lame horse. I rather doubt he has ever been on a boat."
    Theodore pondered that as he carefully placed the bowls around the table, then brightened. "Sometimes pirates
act
as if they are gentlemen. Perhaps he just
said
that so as not to frighten you."
    "I assure you, he is not a pirate, but a man in search of a good horse doctor."
    "Yes, but maybe he was riding for his ship when his horse was hurt!"
    "We are many, many miles from the sea, darling," Lauren said, running her hand over the boy's blond locks.
    "But he
had
to go that way, Miss Lauren!" Horace shouted from the door, then ran to take a seat at the table. "Leonard said the constable would find him if he took the main road!"
    "The constable?" She laughed. "And what do you suppose the constable would do if he found Mr.
    Christian? Without the booty of a raid, he should have no grounds to detain him. I am afraid Leonard is filling your head with tales from his own imagination."
    "I hardly think your story is much improvement," Mrs. Peterman huffed from the kitchen door. She placed two freshly baked loaves of bread on the table, which Lauren promptly began to slice.
    "It is not a
story
, Mrs. Peterman," she said with cheerful patience. "It is fact!"
    "Oh, he is a pirate," Leonard said with great authority as he came into the small dining area. "He is wearing pirate boots. Very
fine
pirate boots."
    "These boots," Mr. Christian drawled, "would not suit the lowest of pirates, I assure you." Lauren looked up; her country gentleman filled the narrow doorway with his athletic physique, and smiling at the children as he was, started the giddiness in her all over again. She looked down and noticed she had cut a chunk of bread the size of brick. She hastily made three slices of it, then smiled broadly at Mr. Christian, helplessly aware that she was on the verge of making a complete cake of herself.
    She motioned to a chair. "Please be seated, Mr. Christian. And I pray you, do not fault these boys overmuch. Since Paul began reading fantastic stories of pirates to them each night, they believe every grown man is potentially a marauder of the high seas." Lydia was still standing in the door, still staring at Mr. Christian. "Lydia," Lauren said softly, and the young girl slowly walked to the table, no more able to tear her eyes from him than Lauren could. Usually, Lydia could talk of little else than Ramsey Baines, with whom she was desperately in love, but she sat across from Mr. Christian, gawking at him with such awe that Lauren wanted to laugh. She knew
exactly
how she felt.
    "I am
not
a pirate," he informed the children, "nor have I been a pirate in at least five years. I was forced to stop that practice several years ago. Constable Richards…" he paused and glanced slyly at the children. With the exception of Sally, who was molding a slice of bread into a doll shape, the children's faces were filled with expectant terror. He shrugged carelessly. "Forgive