Daughters of the Dagger 03 - Amber Read Online Free

sure of anything any more.
    He no longer knew what was truth and what was a lie. He’d heard a story from an old woman while on his pilgrimage overseas that she was once passing through Bowerwood years ago. ’Twas a stormy night and she was hiding under a tree until the rain let up when she spied a wagon pull up to the church. A noblewoman got out and laid a bundle atop the church stairs. She’d thought it to be food for the poor until she’d heard the crying of a baby. Then a priest ran out and picked up the baby, and she saw the woman hand him a large pouch that she could tell was filled with coins.
    The pilgrim woman had said she went to the church the next morning and found Father Armand with the baby. He’d told her the child was abandoned on the church steps and when she’d asked the baby’s name, he thought for a moment and then replied that the baby’s name was Lucifer. It was the devil’s name and that is why to this day the pilgrim woman had not forgotten it. And she said the baby had the same pale blue, piercing eyes as Lucas.
    Too m uch of a coincidence, in his opinion. Could this noblewoman she spoke of possibly be his birth mother? It was too damned similar to have been someone else. Did Father Armand know who his mother was all these years and keep it from him? If so, he would kill the man, he swore. He would find out the truth from that deceptive cur that called himself a priest if it was the last thing he ever did.
    Amber reached out and gently applied the wet rag dipped in a poultice of healing herbal water to his scratched arm. He reveled in the soft touch of her fingers as they accidentally skimmed across his skin. He closed his eyes, trying not to look at her, and trying not to think about his dreams last night.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, am I causing you pain?” she asked.
    “More than you’ll ever know,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice the tent under the sheet at his waist.
    “What happened to you anyway? Were you perhaps in a battle?”
    “Attacked by a band of ruffians while on pilgrimage,” he said in a low voice.
    “What were they after? Did you have a lot of money or valuables on you perhaps? I am surprised they didn’t take your weapons, or that you didn’t use them.”
    “I used them,” he said. “If not, the bandits wouldn’t be dead right now.”
    “Oh!” she said, holding her hand to her mouth. “So you killed them.”
    “It was either them or me. And as you can see, I almost joined them.”
    “I suppose it was self-defense then,” she said, making it seem as if it didn’t bother her that he’d killed several men, but he could see in her eyes that it did.
    “If it’ll make you feel any better , I also protected and saved the lives of several woman, children and an old man.”
    “Well, I suppose it was for a purpose then.”
    “Where is my traveling bag anyway?” he asked, hoping to hell he didn’t lose everything after he’d almost died to save its contents.
    “’T is on the table next to the bed,” she said with a nod of her head. “And the metal badges you wore from each of the shrines are next to it as well. I had to burn your tunic as it was torn beyond repair. Your sword and dagger are being held by Father Armand as he said you were dangerous and he didn’t want you striking out with them.”
    “Aye, I am dangerous,” he agreed, thinking of how he’d wanted to use the weapons on the priest right there in the church. But even as angry as he was, his upbringing made him hesitate to pull a weapon in a house of worship.
    “ What is in that bag anyway?” she asked, curiously eyeing his possession. “It is full and very heavy for having been on pilgrimage. After all, pilgrims usually only have the clothes on their backs and a travelling staff and naught else.”
    “You ask too many questions,” he told her, assuring himself the bag was still there and then closing his eyes with a sigh. “Don’t worry yourself with things that don’t concern