Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(19)

walked out to the stable, signaling to the cat. The master didn’t care much for animals, but Margery had proven a valuable employee, so he allowed her to have her pet if she kept it away

from the main house and fed it in the stable.

Margery had saved the cat from some street urchins who’d

been torturing it, and had nursed it back to health. Anne suspected the housekeeper cared more for the cat than she did for

her fellow humans.

Hurrying to the low brick building on the other side of the

courtyard, Anne glanced up at the clear sky overheard. The air

was brisk.

Leaving the door ajar to allow some light into the dark

interior, she dumped the meat onto the floor and watched as

the cat pounced, her back rippling with pleasure. From her

pocket Anne pulled out the carrot. Then she approached the

stall that housed the young master Drummond’s horse. The





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stallion pawed the earth when he saw her and nipped at the treat in her hand.

Patting his black neck, Anne breathed in his smell. “You

weren’t meant to be cooped up like this, now, were you? Barely

a chance to get out, with your master gone to sea. What would

he do if I took you away from this place?”

“Perhaps you should try it and see what happens.”

Gasping, Anne clutched her chest as she spun around.

Leaning against the wall in the shadow of the door was the

young master himself, dressed in a riding jacket, breeches, and

riding boots.

“You should have made your presence known,” she said,

hating the breathlessness in her voice but unable to stop it.

“And ruin all the fun?” he asked, strolling toward her.

“It’s not right to sneak up on someone.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he said, his eyes not leaving

her face.

Taking a few steps to the side, she attempted to reach the

doorway. “I have work to do.”

Once again he blocked her path. “Your work can wait.”

“I don’t think Margery or your father would agree.”

“I don’t care what Margery or my father thinks. I’ve been

looking for you. Now stand still. I’m getting tired of this constant cat and mouse,” he said.

“Well, I’m tired of being chased,” she snapped, forced to tip

her head back and look up at him.

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“Then stop running,” he said. “I merely wanted to inquire after your hand.”

In the dim light, half of his face was hidden in shadow. The

other half looked tired and ashen. Gone was the arrogance from

the previous day. He didn’t appear as intimidating as before,

with his shoulders now slightly hunched.

Anne spoke without thinking. “Does your future wife know

you’ve been looking for me?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and he paused for a moment,

before a look of annoyance crossed his face. “You forget your

place,” he said.

“And you, yours.”

He laughed shortly, his teeth flashing white in the gloom.

“Tell me, Anne. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“And where did you serve before coming here?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to know how you’ve made it this far with

that tongue in your head. You don’t speak like a common maid,

and you certainly don’t act like one. I intended to give you a

good tongue-lashing, yet I find myself on the defensive where

you’re concerned. Why is that?”

“Perhaps you are too used to people bowing to your believed

superiority, and don’t understand when your presence is not

desired.”

“‘Believed superiority’? Good Lord, you almost act as if you





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were the lady of the house and I were no more than a common footman.”

Her back stiffened. “I’m sorry it appears that way, sir, but

I refuse to be treated like a common maid,” she said, for it was the truth. Her father had never required her to work. Anne’s mother had been the one to insist that Anne at least learn how

to cook, although she’d often been overruled by Andrew Barrett’s stronger personality.

Stepping around the young master, Anne prepared to return

to the kitchen, but his hand shot out and he grasped her wrist,

his skin warm against hers. A bolt of awareness shot through

her, and Anne stumbled backward, her head hitting the door of

the stall. Tears sprang to her eyes from the pain.

His voice when he spoke was weary. “Please, I’m sorry.

Don’t run away again. I’ve just spent the last twelve months

on a ship and have quite forgotten how to behave. I promise to

leave you alone, if you’ll simply stay put for one moment.”

Rubbing her head, she gazed at him warily. This could be

some kind of trick.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.