Free The Crimson Lady by Mary Reed McCall Page B

her; breathing deep of the scented new growth and moist dirt, she felt the sun soak into her hair and cloak to chase the chill of morn away.
    After a little while she opened her eyes again with a sigh, reluctant to face reality. She’d needed that moment of blissful reverie to steel herself for what was to come this day—both in the next few moments, then later on, once they reached Will’s encampment. It would be soon,if Will’s missive held true. Another quarter hour’s travel should bring them very near the spot he’d chosen as their meeting place.
    And that meant she could postpone no longer, even though what she was about to tell Braedan irked her in the mere thinking of it, no less the actual doing—especially after the way he’d spoken to her yestermorn. The sudden, dark slant of his mood then had taken her by surprise, his cutting remarks about her value for Draven in the stewes seeming designed purposefully to wound. And she had been hurt; she couldn’t pretend otherwise. She’d spent years trying to distance herself from the shameful feelings she’d endured as the Crimson Lady, but it was clear that Braedan de Cantor wasn’t going to allow her to forget that that was all she was in his eyes. An infamous thief and whore.
    But one he needed desperately if he was to find his beloved Elizabeth.
    Mollifying herself with that thought, Fiona pursed her lips and prepared to give Braedan his final instructions. He wasn’t going to like what she had to say any more than she did, but he would have to accept it if he wanted his search for his foster sister to go forward without delay.
    A small clearing opened ahead. Reining in her mare as they entered the glen, Fiona twisted in her saddle, and murmured, “We must stop. There is one thing else I need to tell you if we are to ensure that you’ll be accepted by Will and his men.”
    Braedan raised his brow, not commenting, though he halted his steed near hers. At her nodded gesture, they dismounted and left their horses to graze while they walked to a spot a little ways off, out of the direct slantof sun. She stopped and turned to face him, feeling a little shock as she did. He had been either ill or astride a horse for so much of their time together that she was startled anew by his height and powerful build. He stood patiently with his arms crossed over his chest; in general, she’d noticed that he carried himself like a man used to being in charge, and she found that it annoyed her beyond measure.
    But then he spoke, and her irritation pitched infinitely higher.
    “So, what is it, then? What did you neglect to tell me that is so necessary to being welcomed by your criminal friends?”
    Gritting her teeth, Fiona reminded herself to maintain composure, not for his sake, but for her own. He’d not be able to gloat later over any loss of control on her part. “I did not neglect to tell you—I simply hadn’t settled on a feasible solution to this dilemma until recently.”
    “Very well then,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Get on with telling me so that we may proceed. Too much time has been wasted on my illness already.”
    “By the saints, but your manners could use some polish,” Fiona couldn’t stop herself from snapping. “If you hope to survive the next few weeks, you should make an effort to sweeten your tongue. And have a care, too, in how you choose to describe Will and his men. They do not consider themselves criminals; most came to the outlaw’s life through means as unjust as your own seem to be, and you would be wise to remember it.”
    Dead silence greeted her. When Braedan at last deigned to speak, it was with a tight jaw and scowling expression. “As you wish.”
    For a moment Fiona thought that he might accept herrebuke without further comment. But then he straightened before bending into an elaborate bow, adding, “And now I beg of you, my lady, to proceed with my instruction. I humbly await the knowledge that you have offered to