Gail Eastwood Read Online Free Page A

of us?” She raised her voice a fraction. “He was standing right there when you advertised our fat purse to the innkeeper and half the population of Taunton.”
    She had not forgotten that strangely charged moment when she had first looked up, straight into Brinton’s eyes in the middle of the crowd. As she had stared, suddenly spellbound, she had seen the odd expression that slipped across his face. When she tried to analyze his unorthodox behavior and the peculiar way she kept reacting to him, that moment took on great significance in fueling her distrust. Why didn’t Gilbey see?
    For a moment the heartache she was trying so desperately to ignore threatened to break through her overlaying anger. Didn’t they have enough trouble already without borrowing more? Despite her pose as the Great Adventuress, she would not have left home if there had been any other way to escape her uncle’s plotting. She and Gilbey had tried everything else they could think of to scuttle the ill-begotten betrothal their Uncle William had arranged. She was homesick already, yet she and Gilbey had not even been gone a full day!
    Where was the excitement she had felt in the morning when they had first set off?
Washed away in the cold rain
, she thought miserably. At this moment doubt and fear weighed on her in place of that eager anticipation. Could she and Gilbey elude their guardian long enough to reach Scotland? She was no longer sure they had wits enough to make it to their second day.
    Gillian got herself in hand with a little shake. She would not give way to the megrims any more than she had given in to her uncle’s bleak plan for her future. She looked at the heap of wet things by the fire and sighed, wishing they could stay long enough to dry them. She hated the thought of putting her feet back into the heavy, wet leather boots. But the thought of Brinton and his cohort prodded her. She and Gilbey must not let anyone stop them from getting to Scotland. She padded back over to the portmanteau.
    “Are you finished?” asked Gilbey, still with his back politely turned. Gillian wasn’t sure if he meant her toilette or their halted conversation.
    “Near enough,” she replied. She searched the bag for her stockings and the short stable jacket she knew must still be in it. She felt comforted when her fingers came in contact with the soft silk of her Spitalfields shawl, wrapped around the square shapes of her mother’s Scottish songbooks. She wondered if Gilbey suspected why the portmanteau was so heavy.
    She found the stockings and jacket just as her brother moved to the hearth and began spreading out his clothes to dry.
    “Gilbey, you don’t truly expect to stay the night!”
    “Of course I do Honestly, Gillie, don’t you trust my judgment at all?”
    Gillian frowned. She avoided his gaze by concentrating on buttoning her jacket. “Don’t you think those two have guessed that I’m a woman?”
    Gilbey returned to the table and reclaimed his chair. “‘Those two’, as you keep calling them, happen to be gentlemen. They can’t openly dispute my word when I say you’re my brother. They’ll go along with it.” He began to work on the mutton again, cutting the meat into small pieces.
    Gillian gave a most unladylike snort. Brinton’s incessant staring could hardly be considered gentlemanly behavior. It was rude at best and would have been shockingly forward if she was supposed to be female. But Gilbey obviously had not noticed.
    “I expect they think we are easier marks than ever if they have already guessed. I say we pack up our things this moment and be on our way.”
    Gilbey said nothing. The expression on his face was mulish.
    “If you will not do this, Gilbey, at least tell them we have a pistol. Perhaps if they think we are armed, they will not be so quick to chalk us.”
    Brinton and Spelling had headed straight for the kitchen upon leaving the twins.
    “I thought service to my country had hardened me, Archie,” the