Lois Greiman Read Online Free

watching from inches away.
    “I’m naught but a thief,” Keelan gasped. “A thief and a cheat.”
    “A cheat?” Roland said, removing his cigar and rolling it between his fingers. Keelan watched the movement, transfixed, horrified. The smell of his own ruined flesh made his stomach churn. He was lucky indeed there was nothing in it.
    “’Twas naught but a friendly game of dice between meself and three others.”
    “Dice?” Chetfield scowled.
    Fook! His mind was muddled, scrambling back to ancient times, happier times. “Hazard!” Keelan corrected.
    “I haven’t heard it called dice in some long years.” Chetfield smiled. “Please, continue.”
    “We be playing hazard,” Keelan said. “Big large lads they were. And well-to-do.” He shifted his gaze to Roland and back. “It weren’t na terrible deed. I but wanted enough to get a decent meal in me poor shriveled belly.”
    “How much did you fleece them for?” Roland asked, still watching the tip of his cheroot flare.
    “Three pence. Enough for a pint and a bowl of stew. Na more.”
    Roland glanced up, brows raised, so close every speck in his dark-angel’s eyes was clear and bold.
    “A few shillings,” he corrected quickly. “Truly. But in the end I felt shamed and freely left the lot of it—”
    Pain again, but low now, below his navel, charring the blood that clung to his flesh. Keelan gritted his teeth, struggling for lucidness.
    “They learned the truth,” he rasped through the pain. “Knew I was cheating and threatened me life, they did. Ye were right. ’Twas just as yesuspected.”
    “Let me venture a guess. They planned to use your hide to make themselves a fine belt?”
    “Hang me.” The cheroot moved. Keelan watched it. There was no need to pretend panic. No way to gracefully deliver the carefully polished lies he had planned to insinuate himself into Chetfield’s presence. If the truth would save him, he would gladly use it, but it would not. That much he knew. Thus he would play the cards dealt him. “They were to hang me, but I got me hands on a nearby chair and swung with all me might.”
    “Kill someone, did you?”
    “Nay! Nay, I but—”
    Roland grinned. Chetfield only stared, face devoid of emotion, slanted eyes bright.
    “I dunna think him dead,” Keelan corrected, “but I canna be certain. I dashed out as soon as I could. ’Twas dark. I slipped into the hills.”
    “And found yourself on Lord Chetfield’s property.”
    “I did na ken what I was doing.” And that was the bloody truth. “I swear to the saints. I did na ken. And I was hungry. ’Twas three days since I had so much as a bite. I saw a meadow filled with sheep and thought sure a man of such astounding wealth would na miss onesmall lambkin.”
    Roland turned his smug gaze to his master.
    There was a momentary pause from Chetfield, then: “There is nothing to salvage here. Let me know when it’s finished,” he said, and turned stiffly away.

Chapter 3
    C larity speared through Keelan’s muzzy system. Death rushed at him, dark maw wide.
    “Nay! Nay, me lord!” he rasped. “Dunna do this. I can be of service to ye. I swear it.”
    “Oh?” Chetfield stopped, turned slowly back, golden eyes blank, face unconcerned. “What is it you can do?”
    Keelan wet his lips with a tongue as dry as a severed stump. “I’ve a fair voice,” he said. “I can sing a—”
    “Kill him before he shames himself completely,” Chetfield said, and turned toward the door. But in that instant Keelan felt the deep burn of the old man’s pain in his own loins. Felt it and did not deny it, though it was not the pain his informant had told him to expect. Not the goring of an enraged bull, but something else. Something far more sinister.
    “Heal ye,” Keelan said. His words were no more than a whisper, yet they echoed in the sudden silence, dragged from the bottom of his questionable soul.
    The world stood still.
    Chetfield turned back. “What say you?”
    “I