Raven Saint by MaryLu Tyndall

Author:MaryLu Tyndall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction/Christian Romance
ISBN: 9781607421467
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2009-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Every step Rafe took over the muddy street sent a thunderous ache through his head. Doffing his cocked hat, he wiped the sweat from his brow and trudged forward. Irksome noises assailed him from all directions. Bells chiming, people screaming, horses clomping, the grating crank of carriage wheels, the lap of waves, and the incessant chatter of the mob, all increased in a cacophony of clatter in his pounding head.

Greetings and hails shot his way, but he dismissed them, in no mood for talking today. The fetor of manure, stale fish, and rotten fruit curled beneath his nose, causing his stomach to heave and nearly spew its contents—if there had been any.

Last night was a dismal, nightmarish blur. But beside his aching head and a knife wound on his arm, Rafe suffered no permanent damage.

When Monsieur Thorn had met him at the graveyard and informed him that Mademoiselle Grace had changed her mind and would be leaving with his father on the morrow, Rafe had ordered him to make ready the ship, then he leapt upon his horse and galloped to his favorite tavern at the edge of town. After he had downed the first several drinks, the rest of the evening transformed into broken memories floating in his mind, none of which fit into any sensible pattern.

Femme exaspérante. Non. Liar, deceiver, traître. Just like all women. Why had he been foolish enough to expect this one to keep her promise? Why had he not known she would run into his father’s arms just as Claire had done? Rafe clenched his fists as he sidestepped a passing horse and rider. He heard his name called from a shop to his left, followed by another shout, but he ignored them.

Such intimacies he had shared about his mother with the mademoiselle at the graveyard; his face heated. And the way she had cried for him. A ploy? Another feminine trick to soften a man’s heart into mush? He spit onto the ground and shoved his way through a mob of fishermen, ignoring their protests. Like her father, like all British, she wore a cloak of honor and kindness that did not exist once circumstances tore it from her.

Rafe had been duped again.

After he had vowed never to allow another woman access to his heart. The lovely raven-haired mademoiselle had pretended to care about Rafe only so he wouldn’t kidnap her on the spot. Rafe kicked a rock across the road. Je suis un imbécile!

But it wasn’t too late. If the mademoiselle could toss her vows so quickly to the wind, why couldn’t he?

His father had won again. He had stolen another woman from Rafe. The thought sent waves of searing fury through him. He needed to leave this place as soon as possible. He must bid adieu to Abbé Villion, wipe the mud of Port-de-Paix from his boots, and head out to sea where he belonged—away from devious women and his depraved father.

Edging around the stone church, Rafe headed toward an oblong brick building.

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