Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Read Online Free

grip on her arm. She gasped with relief as he fell to the floor to lie at her feet. Too astonished to move, she was quickly enfolded in Nicodemus's arms, and he turned her away, hiding her face from the grim spectacle, but not before she had seen the knife protruding from the man's back.
    The landlord approached the dead man cautiously. Placing his tray on the table, he bent down and felt the man's pulse. "He be dead sure enough," he proclaimed to the man who stepped out of the shadows.
    A quiver shook Lavender's body as she turned to face the stranger who had saved her life. He was tall with sun-bleached hair and twinkling gray eyes. His smile was genuine as he bowed to Lavender. "I cannot believe you were mistaken for a boy. I knew you were a woman the moment I laid eyes on you." Before the bewildered Lavender could answer, the man turned to the landlord, Angus McCree. "Dispose of the body, my friend. It would not bode well for you if he were discovered in your tavern."
    Lavender took a quick step toward the door. She had seen murder done right before her eyes, and she felt sick inside. She just wanted to flee for home where she would be safe.
    "Nicodemus, would you tell this young lady who I am. I have already guessed her identity. She can be no other than Chandler's twin sister."
    Nicodemus grinned. "You are right, sir. This is Miss Lavender Daymond. Miss, this is Captain Brainard Thruston, of the Virginia Militia. He is assigned to special duty, of course, which I am sure you have already guessed."
    Lavender nodded briefly. Her heart was still pounding, and she couldn't get rid of the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She acknowledged the man's polite bow with the nod of her head. "You know my brother, sir?"
    "Indeed I do, ma'am. I count myself fortunate to be numbered among his friends."
    "The man you killed also claimed to know my brother. Why should I trust you?"
    Brainard Thruston laughed heartily and plopped down on a chair. "You are right to be cautious. You see, the contact that was supposed to meet your father here was killed just outside of town and this man took his place. Angus McCree is a true patriot and alerted me that something was wrong."
    "How did you find out about the contact?" she asked, still skeptical.
    "Never mind that. Have you got the document?"
    Lavender felt her knees go weak, and she sank into a chair. "Have you no other way to identify yourself, Mr. Thruston? My father gave me specific orders, and I was told to follow them explicitly."
    For the first time Brainard Thruston's eyes went to the ale mug that was on the table in front of Lavender. "Ah, yes, I almost forgot." A smile lit his eyes. "What flower blooms in the winter?"
    Lavender was flooded with relief. Her voice shook as she replied, "The cactus blooms in the desert." Reaching into the folds of her cape, she removed the documents and handed them to Brainard Thruston. "I hope these are worth a man's life."
    Brainard smiled and rose to his feet. "They are, Miss Daymond. The fact that the British went to such lengths to capture them should have alerted you to their importance. Now, tell me before I go, why are you here instead of your father?"
    "He was wounded."
    There was a light of concern in his eyes. "I am sorry. I trust it isn't bad. I will be seeing your brother, and he will want to know your father's condition."
    Her heart skipped a beat. "Chandler is alive?"
    "Yes, of course. At least he was a week ago when I last saw him."
    Lavender had lived through so many different emotions tonight that she suddenly felt numb. "I. . . Tell my brother that Father is wounded. I do not know how badly. The danger lies in the fact that he has lost so much blood."
    "I do not think anything as insignificant as a bullet will stop your father." With a flash of white teeth, Brainard Thruston bowed to Lavender. "I will inform your brother that I met you tonight." He looked Lavender over as if he were trying to find the woman beneath the disguise.