For the Love of a Soldier Read Online Free Page A

short, guttural laugh escaped his adversary. “Right touchy, guv’nor.”
    “Do we have a deal?” he hissed.
    “We do.”
    There was a grunt of acceptance from the taller man. “Good. Now, get the hell out of here before you’re spotted. We should both leave. Better if I had never come,” he muttered the last.
    “Good ’nough.” The French doors opened and closed, and the short man disappeared, leaving his companion alone with his thoughts—and Alex.
    Kendall.
    She closed her eyes. It had to be
him. Again.
But of course. Fate had delivered him like a plague to ruin her night, and the night was far from over.
    Alex’s eyes flew open and her head jerked around at a movement from the patio. She leaned against the tree as if seeking to merge into it. Sweat pooled between her shoulder blades, dotted her forehead. A branch snapped in the distance, and she bit her lip to swallow back her scream.
    The man whipped around.
    Alex froze, holding her sharp intake of breath. Stark white shards of fear pierced her.
    “Christ, bloody cat!” her adversary spat.
    Cleo! Olivia’s wretched black cat. Alex sagged against the tree, weak-kneed.
    The man withdrew his handkerchief and flicked it at the cat. Cleo lifted her paw to bat at it, hissing her feline disdain before she scampered away.
    Alex eyed the cat’s escape with jealousy. Time moved at a tortoise-crawl until the man emitted a vicious curse and stormed inside.
    She waited a beat before she followed. She needed to see him. To identify this man who wanted Kendall dead.
    She eased open the doors in time to glimpse him striding down the corridor. She lengthened her steps, hurrying to pursue her prey. When he turned right, candlelight from a corner wall sconce lit his greased dark hair.
    She followed him to the balcony overlooking the ballroom.Should he descend the grand staircase, he would be swallowed up in the sea of black evening jackets crowding the floor.
    Heart thundering, she rushed to the railing. She could not catch up with him, but when he fled down the stairs, she might see his profile. She held her breath.
    His strides were quick and purposeful.
    She gripped the railing, her eyes locked on the man’s black evening jacket and she willed him to look up.
    As if hearing her plea, the man turned. His eyes swept the upper balcony, briefly lighting on Alex before sliding past. Whirling around, he hastened down the last steps. In minutes, his head and shoulders were engulfed in the waves of guests blocking the edge of the dance floor. He was gone.
    Alex expelled her breath. She did not recognize him.
    His long, lean features were hawkish with an aquiline nose and thin, bloodless lips. His brows were thick and arched. He was but another mirror image of all the other distinguished gentlemen who composed the ton. She would have had to have gotten closer to get a better look at him; she doubted she could identify him again.
    She sagged against the railing. What had she expected? A brand to enable her to recognize him again? A jagged scar lining his cheek? She snorted. Her Langdon luck had run dry, and she had best remember it.
    Straightening, she pondered what to do next. Murder conspiracies were out of her realm. Poverty, hunger, and near ruin, well, she had some experience with those. This was different. Lives were in jeopardy, or rather, the life of one man. One despicable man.
    Kendall
.
    She fisted her hands. She couldn’t sit by and let the man be murdered. Pity there. He was a war hero. Who would have thought? She recalled his lean body and now realized his determined strides resembled a military gait. And his whipcord-thin frame. The man had been wounded and might still be regaining his strength. For what? To have it snuffed out by the hand of that treacherous little man? She shuddered.
    She would go to the authorities. Let the magistrate deal with the sordid matter. There was no time to waste, for she did not know how long she had, or rather how long Kendall had.