feet like cold ashes.
“Why should you?” she asked coolly.
His eyes narrowed. “Because I’m not fond of seeing women burned at the stake,” he replied in a low, warning voice.
“I appreciate your concern,” she heard herself murmur, “but I prefer to take care of myself. I’ll leave alone.”
“Leaving the tavern?” he inquired. “For where, dear lady?” he mocked curtly. “Matthews will seek you out through all of Glasgow—for days.”
“I won’t stay in Glasgow.”
“What will you do? Hire a coach and ride away? That’s quite unlikely. The roads will be guarded.”
“I’ll hide in the forest.”
“Forever? I don’t believe they’ll stop burning witches next month! In time, perhaps, men will know their folly. But that time could be decades away, even centuries. It wouldn’t matter either way; you would long be dust in the wind.”
Brianna swallowed with despair. His words were true. There would be no sanctuary for her in the forest she so loved. But if she could just reach the Powells, they would somehow manage to shield her.
“I’ll have to take you with me,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Her eyes flew open wide. “Take me with you? No! I’ve family in England; all I have to do is get to them—”
“And you’re talking in circles, girl!” Sloan exploded irritably. “Don’t you understand yet? You can’t get anywhere without me.”
“But I just told you, I have family! I—”
“You have to come with me!”
“And where might that be?” she demanded, her voice rising with fury and desperation.
“I’m not sure yet—” he began, cutting himself off sharply as he suddenly stiffened, his eyes sharp and narrow.
“What—”
“Hush!” he exclaimed.
And then she heard what he had. A commotion growing in the common room below, and the tread of footsteps upon the stairs.
A thunderous pounding on their door.
And the roar of a voice. “Open in the name of the king! I know you’re in there, Treveryan, and you harbor a witch!”
Brianna’s eyes met Sloan’s with undisguised terror. He stood, putting his breeches on, his stare willing her not to make a sound. “Get behind the screen!” he whispered.
For an instant she froze, and then she jumped to do his bidding, shielding herself with the screen and peeking around it.
To her horror she saw that he was about to open the door.
Chapter Four
“What the bloody hell do you want, Matthews?”
The Welshman’s voice bellowed angrily within the small room. Behind the screen, Brianna tried desperately to still her shivering, and yet she could not. Her life hung in the balance in these seconds.
Despite the danger she had to peek around the corner of the screen. She could see only Sloan Treveryan, who was clad in nothing but his breeches, while Matthews was in full dress; still, it was the sea captain who appeared the most threatening. Brianna was gratified to see that Matthews took a step backward when challenged by Treveryan.
“You bed with a witch, Milord Treveryan,” Matthews stated, his voice rather politer now. “I ask only for the harlot. For the good of your immortal soul—”
“My immortal soul is my concern, Matthews,” Sloan interrupted coolly, “as are my bedding habits. Get out of my doorway.”
“Milord, I do not care to enter by force—”
“Enter by force and it is your life that will be forfeit,” Sloan interrupted once more with harsh assurance.
“I am on the king’s business—”
“For a king who sits upon a shaky throne. A king who must now placate his nobles, since the Prince of Orange looks ever toward England.”
“Take heed, Welshman.”
“You take heed, Matthews. I would cheerfully run you through with my sword; I spare your worthless life begrudgingly. Trouble me no further. I am soundly aware that James wants no nobles—Welsh, Scottish, or English—disturbed. I would take great pleasure in reporting to your king that you barged into my bedroom and most
“Why should you?” she asked coolly.
His eyes narrowed. “Because I’m not fond of seeing women burned at the stake,” he replied in a low, warning voice.
“I appreciate your concern,” she heard herself murmur, “but I prefer to take care of myself. I’ll leave alone.”
“Leaving the tavern?” he inquired. “For where, dear lady?” he mocked curtly. “Matthews will seek you out through all of Glasgow—for days.”
“I won’t stay in Glasgow.”
“What will you do? Hire a coach and ride away? That’s quite unlikely. The roads will be guarded.”
“I’ll hide in the forest.”
“Forever? I don’t believe they’ll stop burning witches next month! In time, perhaps, men will know their folly. But that time could be decades away, even centuries. It wouldn’t matter either way; you would long be dust in the wind.”
Brianna swallowed with despair. His words were true. There would be no sanctuary for her in the forest she so loved. But if she could just reach the Powells, they would somehow manage to shield her.
“I’ll have to take you with me,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Her eyes flew open wide. “Take me with you? No! I’ve family in England; all I have to do is get to them—”
“And you’re talking in circles, girl!” Sloan exploded irritably. “Don’t you understand yet? You can’t get anywhere without me.”
“But I just told you, I have family! I—”
“You have to come with me!”
“And where might that be?” she demanded, her voice rising with fury and desperation.
“I’m not sure yet—” he began, cutting himself off sharply as he suddenly stiffened, his eyes sharp and narrow.
“What—”
“Hush!” he exclaimed.
And then she heard what he had. A commotion growing in the common room below, and the tread of footsteps upon the stairs.
A thunderous pounding on their door.
And the roar of a voice. “Open in the name of the king! I know you’re in there, Treveryan, and you harbor a witch!”
Brianna’s eyes met Sloan’s with undisguised terror. He stood, putting his breeches on, his stare willing her not to make a sound. “Get behind the screen!” he whispered.
For an instant she froze, and then she jumped to do his bidding, shielding herself with the screen and peeking around it.
To her horror she saw that he was about to open the door.
Chapter Four
“What the bloody hell do you want, Matthews?”
The Welshman’s voice bellowed angrily within the small room. Behind the screen, Brianna tried desperately to still her shivering, and yet she could not. Her life hung in the balance in these seconds.
Despite the danger she had to peek around the corner of the screen. She could see only Sloan Treveryan, who was clad in nothing but his breeches, while Matthews was in full dress; still, it was the sea captain who appeared the most threatening. Brianna was gratified to see that Matthews took a step backward when challenged by Treveryan.
“You bed with a witch, Milord Treveryan,” Matthews stated, his voice rather politer now. “I ask only for the harlot. For the good of your immortal soul—”
“My immortal soul is my concern, Matthews,” Sloan interrupted coolly, “as are my bedding habits. Get out of my doorway.”
“Milord, I do not care to enter by force—”
“Enter by force and it is your life that will be forfeit,” Sloan interrupted once more with harsh assurance.
“I am on the king’s business—”
“For a king who sits upon a shaky throne. A king who must now placate his nobles, since the Prince of Orange looks ever toward England.”
“Take heed, Welshman.”
“You take heed, Matthews. I would cheerfully run you through with my sword; I spare your worthless life begrudgingly. Trouble me no further. I am soundly aware that James wants no nobles—Welsh, Scottish, or English—disturbed. I would take great pleasure in reporting to your king that you barged into my bedroom and most
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