Guardian Angel Read Online Free
Author: Julie Garwood
London WC2R 0RL, England
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Published by Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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Copyright © 1990 by Julie Garwood All rights reserved
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eISBN : 978-1-101-53156-3
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PUBLISHERâS NOTE
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Â
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authorâs rights is appreciated.
http://us.penguingroup.com
This oneâs for you, Elizabeth.
Chapter One
London, 1815
T he hunter waited patiently for his prey.
It was a dangerous deception the Marquess of Cainewood was playing. The infamous Pagan of Shallowâs Wharf would certainly hear of his impersonator; heâd be forced out of hiding then, for his pride, monstrous by all whispered accounts, wouldnât allow another to take credit for his own black deeds. The pirate would certainly try to extract his own form of revenge. Caine was counting on that possibility. Once Pagan showed himself, Caine would have him.
And then the legend would be destroyed.
The Marquess had run out of choices. The spider wouldnât leave his web. Bounty hadnât worked. No, there wasnât a Judas among the seamen, which was surprising given that most ordinary men would have sold their mamas into bondage for the amount of gold heâd offered. It was a miscalculation on Caineâs part, too. Each seaman voiced loyalty to the legend as his own personal reason for refusing the coins. Caine, a cynic by nature and past sour experiences, guessed fear was the real motive. Fear and superstition.
Mystery surrounded the pirate like the wall of a confessional. No one had ever actually seen Pagan. His ship, the Emerald, had been observed countless times skimming the water like a pebble thrown by the hand of God, or so it was reported by those whoâd boasted of seeing the ship. The sight of the black beauty sparked terror in the titled gentlemen of the ton with fat purses, snickers of glee from the downright mean-hearted, and prayers of humble thanksgiving from the deprived, for Pagan was known to share his booty with the less fortunate.
Yet as often as the magical ship was sighted, no one could describe a single shipmate on board the vessel. This only increased the speculation, admiration, and awe about the phantom pirate.
Paganâs thievery extended beyond the ocean, however, for he was a man who obviously enjoyed variety. His land raids caused just as much consternation, perhaps even more. Pagan was discriminate in robbing only from the members of the ton . It was apparent the pirate didnât want anyone else taking credit for his own midnight raids on the unsuspecting. He therefore left his own personal calling card in the form of a single long-stemmed white rose. His victim usually awakened by morning light to find the flower on the pillow beside him. The mere sight of the rose was usually quite enough to send grown men into a dead faint.
Needless to say, the poor idolized the legend. They believed Pagan was a man of style and romance. The church was no less effusive in their adoration, for the pirate left
Â
Published by Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Â
Â
Copyright © 1990 by Julie Garwood All rights reserved
Â
eISBN : 978-1-101-53156-3
Â
Â
PUBLISHERâS NOTE
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Â
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Â
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authorâs rights is appreciated.
http://us.penguingroup.com
This oneâs for you, Elizabeth.
Chapter One
London, 1815
T he hunter waited patiently for his prey.
It was a dangerous deception the Marquess of Cainewood was playing. The infamous Pagan of Shallowâs Wharf would certainly hear of his impersonator; heâd be forced out of hiding then, for his pride, monstrous by all whispered accounts, wouldnât allow another to take credit for his own black deeds. The pirate would certainly try to extract his own form of revenge. Caine was counting on that possibility. Once Pagan showed himself, Caine would have him.
And then the legend would be destroyed.
The Marquess had run out of choices. The spider wouldnât leave his web. Bounty hadnât worked. No, there wasnât a Judas among the seamen, which was surprising given that most ordinary men would have sold their mamas into bondage for the amount of gold heâd offered. It was a miscalculation on Caineâs part, too. Each seaman voiced loyalty to the legend as his own personal reason for refusing the coins. Caine, a cynic by nature and past sour experiences, guessed fear was the real motive. Fear and superstition.
Mystery surrounded the pirate like the wall of a confessional. No one had ever actually seen Pagan. His ship, the Emerald, had been observed countless times skimming the water like a pebble thrown by the hand of God, or so it was reported by those whoâd boasted of seeing the ship. The sight of the black beauty sparked terror in the titled gentlemen of the ton with fat purses, snickers of glee from the downright mean-hearted, and prayers of humble thanksgiving from the deprived, for Pagan was known to share his booty with the less fortunate.
Yet as often as the magical ship was sighted, no one could describe a single shipmate on board the vessel. This only increased the speculation, admiration, and awe about the phantom pirate.
Paganâs thievery extended beyond the ocean, however, for he was a man who obviously enjoyed variety. His land raids caused just as much consternation, perhaps even more. Pagan was discriminate in robbing only from the members of the ton . It was apparent the pirate didnât want anyone else taking credit for his own midnight raids on the unsuspecting. He therefore left his own personal calling card in the form of a single long-stemmed white rose. His victim usually awakened by morning light to find the flower on the pillow beside him. The mere sight of the rose was usually quite enough to send grown men into a dead faint.
Needless to say, the poor idolized the legend. They believed Pagan was a man of style and romance. The church was no less effusive in their adoration, for the pirate left
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