Jed's Sweet Revenge Read Online Free

face. When he finished, he awkwardly pulled his hand back and reached for the dog’s small body. “Let me take him.”
    “No.” Her voice was firm, and a little cold. Jed looked back into her eyes and found the cold reflected there. She had the kind of lovely, intelligent face that told a man his heart would never be safe if she wanted to capture it. Now he saw that his was very safe, as far as she was concerned. “I’ll take him myself. I don’t need help from a mainlander.” She paused. “I knew you were coming. I knew you’d cause trouble. Now go away and take your trouble with you.”
    “How’d you know I was coming? Who told you?”
    “A fellow witch,” she said sharply, and gave him a curt, sarcastic look.
    Then her delicate lips trembled and she turned her head away, gazing down at the still animal in her lap. Jed grimaced in distress as he heard her hoarse sigh of grief. She rose to her feet, cradling Cyrano’s body in her arms, and started down the path.
    The horse—what was that funny name it had? Cendrillon? Jed remembered—followed her, along with the two big dogs. He picked up the shotgun and trailed behind with grim determination.
    Fifteen minutes later the forest opened, revealing a big, two-story house weathered to oyster gray. Jed glanced over it quickly, surprised at its homey appeal. It sat in the middle of a sandy yard dotted with flower gardens that had been tended by an obviouslyskilled hand. The tin roof came to a central peak that disappeared under the umbrellalike arms of a giant oak tree.
    The house and the porch that skirted all four sides were built high off the ground, on a thick stone base. A set of wide plank steps went up to a porch inhabited by old rocking chairs. He watched Thena carry her dog’s body past the house, across the clearing toward the forest on the other side. She turned around and looked at him when he started to follow.
    “I’ll bury my friend without your help. Go back where you came from.” She whipped around and kept walking. Jed halted and nodded to her. But he had no intention of leaving.
    When she wearily reentered the yard an hour later, she found him seated on the top of her steps, his arms propped on his knees and his fingers idly toying with a seashell. Thena’s quick flare of anger mingled with a disobedient surge of curiosity.
    His hair was the color of rich coffee softened with cream, a luxurious brown. It was straight and he wore it moderately short, but it looked untameable, much like the man, Thena decided. His face was as lean as the rest of him, the nose blunt and a little bashed looking, the eyes deep set, the jaw almost too strong.
    He was much taller than her own five feet five inches, and old jeans and an equally old short-sleeved shirt encased his taut, athletic body. She looked at his feet and her eyes widened. Cowboy boots? He was traipsing around her island drawling like Clint Eastwood and wearing cowboy boots?
    He looked up suddenly, and she retreated behind a wall of reserve. For the first time, Thena noted that despite the rough edges and despite the fact that his presence was unwanted, she had on her porch a very handsome, very unusual man. He stoodas she walked across the yard, and Thena hid the discomfort his silent scrutiny provoked. She stopped at the base of the steps and glared at him.
    “Why are you still trespassing on my island?” she asked coldly.
    For a second his mouth flattened in a line of frustration. Rasputin and Godiva trotted up, growling, and pushed their noses against her leg. The man spoke then, his voice deep and sad.
    “If there was any way I could bring your dog back, I would.” Thena closed her eyes as his voice produced an unexpected quiver down her spine. “I … don’t know how to put things into real nice words, ma’am. But I’m just about as sorry as a man can be. I … I really am sorry.”
    She looked up, found him faltering for more apologies and frowning, and wondered what made such