In Bed with the Duke by Christina Dodd

Author:Christina Dodd
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2010-03-02T19:29:26.357000+00:00

As he had for so many nights, Jean-Pierre sat on his drowsing horse, quiet, immobile, concealed by the brush beside the main road. He was alone; for too long the Reaper had evaded him. And the prince would not wait forever.

As he had so many times before, Jean- Pierre touched the whip slash that had opened his face to the bone. It was red, infected, a reminder, as Prince Sandre had hoped, of his failure.

So Jean-Pierre had shed the company of his men, the men who grew impatient with the long hours of waiting, who gossiped among themselves about Sandre’s obsession with catching the Reaper and, with their gossip, let servants know where they were going and what they were doing.

Now Jean-Pierre slept by day, and by night he watched the road, his rifle loaded and at the ready.

Tonight it was after midnight. The shadows were thick. The half-moon sailed high in the sky. In the distance, he heard the inevitable thunderstorm, and cursed viciously.

Every night, another storm rose over the horizon, bringing gusts of windblown rain and lightning flashes to set the world on fire. As if the damp weren’t miserable enough, he knew the peasants pointed to the tempests as proof that the Reaper controlled the weather. For didn’t he always appear in a clap of thunder and disappear in a flash of lightning?

Superstitious serfs.

He stiffened.

Nearer at hand, he heard the clop-clop of a horse galloping down the road.

Silently, he slid the rifle from the leather holster.

The rich Irishman, Mr. Gillespie Cosgair, rounded the corner, leaning over the neck of his gelding, glancing behind and urging him on as if in a panic.

In a panic? Because he was being chased by the Reaper?

Jean-Pierre put the rifle to his shoulder.

Another horse came around the corner in hot pursuit.

Count Belmont Martin raced down the road, his eyes fixed on Cosgair’s back, his face contorted in a killing rage.

Once again, Martin’s wife had made him a cuckold.

Jean-Pierre slid his rifle back into the holster.

And waited.

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