Nightingale Read Online Free Page A

lips twitched and she thought he almost smiled, and then appeared to catch himself. “I am merely assuring you that the animal you rode to my rescue here tonight is not my horse.” The man suddenly puckered his lips and gave a sharp, clear whistle.
    Beyond the foliage, the horse whickered.
    The man scowled, bleated a dismissive, “Ahh,” and set his sightless eye back on his companion. “What is your name, child?”
    She stumbled getting to her feet, but answered curtly. “My name is Jessica Blair, sir, and I am a woman grown, not a child.”
    Eying him, she puzzled as another smile nearly escaped his constraint. She had real difficulties to overcome at the moment without wasting precious time speculating about this stranger’s mercurial smile.
    Jessica stepped to her right just as a breeze sorted nearby leaves, masking the sound of her movement. The man’s face did not follow. As he continued looking sternly at the place she had been, he lowered his voice to a coaxing tone.
    “You sound like an intelligent girl, Jessica Blair. Have you not learned that lies seldom improve one’s position?”
    He tried to stand, but as he did so, his poor, injured head grazed a low limb. He flinched and bent, looking uncertain and thoroughly vulnerable.
    Jessica wanted to be as truthful as possible with this man whom she now felt certain had no sight at all. “I lie, sir, only when I deem it entirely necessary.”
    Still stooped, he turned abruptly, addressing the place where her words originated. “And stop calling me ‘sir.’” He hesitated, then lowered his voice to a kinder tone. “I am properly addressed as ‘Your Grace.’”
    Again he tried to straighten, presumably to assume the regal stance of someone of importance, and again banged his poor head into the same low-hanging bough.
    “A duke? You, sir, are a nobleman?” She took his hand and tugged him a step forward, out from under the abusive bough. As she did so, she tried to see beneath the dirt, the injuries, and his general dishabille. Except for the expensive clothes, he didn’t look the part he claimed.
    Still, she saw no benefit in arguing. “I fear the blow to your head did more damage than shows, Your Grace,” she muttered. He had nerve, chastising her for suspected lies, then feigning lofty position.
    The leaves whirled again and he started, obviously uneasy. She hurried her next words to placate him.
    “Sweetness — that is, your horse — is strong, Your Grace, and uninjured. He doesn’t even seem tired. You, on the other hand, are spent. We will get you mounted and deliver you to an inn. Surely there is one nearby where we can summon a physician.”
    “No.” Fumbling, he flung a hand forward to brush then catch her wrist in a grip so firm she gasped. “You will convey me to my home.”
    “Tonight?”
    He relaxed his grip slightly but maintained his hold on her arm. “Yes. At once.”
    “But you need a doctor.”
    “No.” His grip on her wrist tightened.
    She forced herself to hold silent.
    “You must take me to Shiller’s Green. My home, Gull’s Way, is near there. Do you know the place?”
    “No, Your Grace. I live near Welter. This is my first journey beyond the river valley.”
    “What are you doing here now then, alone, and at night?”
    “As I told you … Your Grace,” she stammered again over the title, “your horse brought me.”
    “A horse, like a soldier, goes where he’s commanded.”
    “Your horse does not, Your Grace, to your good fortune.” She didn’t like seeing this large commanding man at a disadvantage, stooped as if he were cowering in the shadows. “Do you plan for us to cower here among the thistles and weeds debating all night?”
    He seemed caught off guard by her brash words, then covered his surprise with bluster. “Of course not. However, I do expect you to provide a believable explanation of your presence here before this night is over. You would do well to come up with a more convincing