Beloved Beast (The Ravenswood Chronicles) by Karyn Gerrard

Author:Karyn Gerrard [Gerrard, Karyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-02-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 13

With her wig pinned in place and the black-framed glasses slipping down her nose, Gillian had to admit she looked rather drab. Wearing the padding and her old coat, the long, straight, straggly hair of the wig screamed “plain spinster,” which is what her and Luke wanted to convey. The glass frames were huge, obscuring part of her face. With a wool muffler tied about her throat and her gloved hands clutching a battered purse, she made her way to the village proper.

The ground was slushy under her boots, and small banks of snow still remained where the sun could not reach. By the time she crested the hill, her ankle boots were covered with a viscous mud. The gray clouds hung low as if threatening a possible snowfall. As she made her way toward the village, her thoughts turned to Luke. Why did she mention she could fall for him? Despite her spy training, in matters of the heart she found it hard to falsify any deeper emotion. A good thing she became smitten with Otto or the mission would not have lasted as long as it did. Or have been as successful.

But the previous night. Dear God, it was the most intense, sensuous experience of her life. Granted she’d only been with one other man, but Luke’s lovemaking was a curious and enticing mix of savage tenderness. She craved him. The most feminine parts of her throbbed from the ardent sex as if he were still inside her. She would have to make an effort to keep a tight grip on her emotions, as she could not put her battered heart through this again. Yet, she agreed to the affair. Shaking her head in confusion and sadness, Gillian picked up the pace.

The village was smaller than she thought it would be, but still a fair size. The main thoroughfare consisted of two rows of buildings on either side of the pavement with an ancient stone church sitting at the head of the long street. Numerous trees and hedgerows surrounded the area, giving the place a stately look. But the businesses appeared to be thriving. In one brick structure was a small pub called The Stag and Keg. The old wooden sign swinging above her head claimed it was established in 1888. Boisterous laughter emitted from the structure. Already? She glanced at her watch. It was barely noon, perhaps the lunch crowd.

There was a bookseller, a draper, a chemist, a dry goods shop, a post and telegraph office, and a repair shop. The largest building was the grocer, T. Robertson and Sons. A sign in the window claimed they sold baked goods. She entered and the bell jingled over her head.

A few customers mingled about, but there wasn’t much merchandise on the counters. No doubt kept out back to dole out according to the ration rules. However, the enticing scent of freshly baked bread filled her nostrils. Thankfully, there was a large display. Picking up a basket, she selected a loaf of bread and a dozen pan rolls along with oatmeal biscuits and raisin cake.

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