ridiculous. There was a bond between them, stronger than blood. Marisa helped her decide when the time came to wear a chemise instead of cotton shirts, and she shared with her friend the joy of staying up late at night, next to a turf fire, telling stories that would raise the dead.
This bond told her that Marisa was alive. Surely she would sense otherwise. But the feeling of inaction was killing her. To do something! She fumed inwardly. Where was Marisa now? Was she hurt? Was she afraid?…
Shannon didn’t see the stableboy until he was beside her, his breath rushing from his tiny frame.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got something for you.”
“You don’t have anything I want,” Shannon said rudely, plopping down on the green earth, her skirts tucked beneath her.
In spite of himself, the stableboy smiled. Shannon wasn’t like the other ladies he knew, those powdered and coiffed dames who sipped tea delicately and ignored him as if he were a fixture in the barn. No, she treated him with all the harsh affection of a sister, one moment chiding him, the next laughing at some teasing trick.
“I think you’ll want this.” He thrust the letter forth. “It’s in Marisa’s handwriting. You know her mother will have the vapors when she sees you like that.”
“Marisa!” Shannon snatched up the letter, tearing it eagerly apart. It was indeed Marisa’s writing—she wouldn’t mistake that precise, controlled hand anywhere. Her breath caught as she quickly scanned the note. Her friend was safe. Rereading the part about the highwayman, Shannon’s mouth sagged open.
Kyle MacLeod. Good Lord, the same man who had kissed Marisa the night of the party! Shannon did not need to read the next lines; she knew exactly what he looked like. Who could forget? The Angel, they called him, and Shannon cursed her own stupidity for not realizing it before. Kyle had the face of an angel, a Lucifer incarnate, and the body of a…
“What’s it say? I promise, I won’t tell.” Evan leaned closer.
Shannon pushed him away. “Be still.” Thoughtfully, she scanned the letter again.
I don’t know what’s the matter with me. He touches me and I cannot resist him. I’m afraid I will dishonor my vows, that I won’t be able to hold myself from him. It’s frightening, Shannon. As if he can control me with little more than a glance. He promises that I shall be returned, for a ransom, something that Devon can give him. But I am afraid it will be too late
….
“Let me think,” Shannon snapped, seeing Evan’s curious glance. She leaned back, closing her eyes against the sunshine. “I cannot resist him….” Mother of God, was it possible? Marisa, falling in love with Kyle, the Outlaw Angel?
It was not only possible, it was probable. Especially after seeing him, Shannon did understand. There were people in this world who were magnetic, compelling, who could make one forget vows, loved ones, promises. Kyle was one of them. Curiously, so was Marisa. She had seen the effect Marisa could have in a roomful of men, the way she would lift her lashes and peer straight into the heart of a man. Unnerved, he would gather up his courage and dare to approach, only to find out she was not interested. Yes, they were alike in that respect and, in other circumstances, would have made a wonderful couple. But Kyle was wanted for murder; he was an outlaw, a rogue. What kind of existence would he offer any woman, Marisa in particular?
“Where are you going?” Evan asked, disappointed as Shannon climbed onto the mare. Offering an arm, she lifted the boy onto the saddle behind her.
“To Sutcliffe’s,”
Chapter Seven
The afternoon sunlight was already fading from the room when Mac returned. Marisa glared at him from her post near the window, grimacing as he placed a steaming dish on the table.
“Porridge again. I can’t wait.”
“Now what’s the matter?” Mac’s normally stern expression changed to
This bond told her that Marisa was alive. Surely she would sense otherwise. But the feeling of inaction was killing her. To do something! She fumed inwardly. Where was Marisa now? Was she hurt? Was she afraid?…
Shannon didn’t see the stableboy until he was beside her, his breath rushing from his tiny frame.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got something for you.”
“You don’t have anything I want,” Shannon said rudely, plopping down on the green earth, her skirts tucked beneath her.
In spite of himself, the stableboy smiled. Shannon wasn’t like the other ladies he knew, those powdered and coiffed dames who sipped tea delicately and ignored him as if he were a fixture in the barn. No, she treated him with all the harsh affection of a sister, one moment chiding him, the next laughing at some teasing trick.
“I think you’ll want this.” He thrust the letter forth. “It’s in Marisa’s handwriting. You know her mother will have the vapors when she sees you like that.”
“Marisa!” Shannon snatched up the letter, tearing it eagerly apart. It was indeed Marisa’s writing—she wouldn’t mistake that precise, controlled hand anywhere. Her breath caught as she quickly scanned the note. Her friend was safe. Rereading the part about the highwayman, Shannon’s mouth sagged open.
Kyle MacLeod. Good Lord, the same man who had kissed Marisa the night of the party! Shannon did not need to read the next lines; she knew exactly what he looked like. Who could forget? The Angel, they called him, and Shannon cursed her own stupidity for not realizing it before. Kyle had the face of an angel, a Lucifer incarnate, and the body of a…
“What’s it say? I promise, I won’t tell.” Evan leaned closer.
Shannon pushed him away. “Be still.” Thoughtfully, she scanned the letter again.
I don’t know what’s the matter with me. He touches me and I cannot resist him. I’m afraid I will dishonor my vows, that I won’t be able to hold myself from him. It’s frightening, Shannon. As if he can control me with little more than a glance. He promises that I shall be returned, for a ransom, something that Devon can give him. But I am afraid it will be too late
….
“Let me think,” Shannon snapped, seeing Evan’s curious glance. She leaned back, closing her eyes against the sunshine. “I cannot resist him….” Mother of God, was it possible? Marisa, falling in love with Kyle, the Outlaw Angel?
It was not only possible, it was probable. Especially after seeing him, Shannon did understand. There were people in this world who were magnetic, compelling, who could make one forget vows, loved ones, promises. Kyle was one of them. Curiously, so was Marisa. She had seen the effect Marisa could have in a roomful of men, the way she would lift her lashes and peer straight into the heart of a man. Unnerved, he would gather up his courage and dare to approach, only to find out she was not interested. Yes, they were alike in that respect and, in other circumstances, would have made a wonderful couple. But Kyle was wanted for murder; he was an outlaw, a rogue. What kind of existence would he offer any woman, Marisa in particular?
“Where are you going?” Evan asked, disappointed as Shannon climbed onto the mare. Offering an arm, she lifted the boy onto the saddle behind her.
“To Sutcliffe’s,”
Chapter Seven
The afternoon sunlight was already fading from the room when Mac returned. Marisa glared at him from her post near the window, grimacing as he placed a steaming dish on the table.
“Porridge again. I can’t wait.”
“Now what’s the matter?” Mac’s normally stern expression changed to
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