Free The Huntress by Susan Carroll

stop when her head throbbed and the covers threatened to slip.
    “Damned little,” she grumbled. “Not without making my head explode or affording you a view of my bare arse. Even if I could drag myself out of bed, I don’t imagine I’d see much beyond rooftops.”
    “The rooftops of a vast city.”
    “Dirty, noisy, crowded. Too full of bloody Englishmen.”
    “You are right.” Martin smiled, but as he stared out the window, a dream-ridden expression stole over his face. “But it is also a city teeming with energy, enterprise, and opportunity. A place where any man can make his fortune, bury his past, and lose himself in the future.”
    Cat regarded him with barely suppressed exasperation. “Is that what you believe you have done? Lost yourself? I admit it took me awhile to track you, and I have some skill at hunting. But so does the Dark Queen. If I could find you, so could she, especially with you strutting about on a public stage.”
    “That was a mistake, I grant you. But when our lead actor fell ill, I could not resist the temptation to—” He checked himself, a tide of color washing into his face. Letting the drapery fall, he turned away from the window. “I won’t be so careless again.”
    “So you will what? Quit the company? How will you provide for your daughter if—”
    “That is not how I provide for her
now.
” Martin swept his arm in a gesture that encompassed the room. “Do you think I afford all this on an actor’s wages? When we first arrived in England I might have been nothing more than a vagabond player, but my fortunes have risen greatly since then. I am actually an investor in the Crown Theatre, and I have powerful friends.”
    “Those actors?” Cat asked scornfully. “A grand help they would be with their fake cauldrons and blunted swords.”
    “My own blade is sharp enough, as you nearly discovered. And I have acquaintance beyond Master Roxburgh and the company. I have acquired a patron, a man of vast resources and influence.”
    “Who?”
    “That’s none of your concern,” Martin snapped. He compressed his lips in a taut line, and then addressed her in a more moderate tone.
    “Look, Mistress O’Hanlon…Cat. Don’t think I am not grateful to you for coming to warn me. I realize that you did so at no little inconvenience to yourself. I shall see that you are generously rewarded.”
    “Rewarded! Why, you ignorant lout.” Cat sat bolt upright, ignoring the ache in her head and the fact that she was close to giving Martin another eyeful. “I came because Ariane asked me to, and I serve the Lady of Faire Isle out of love and devotion, not for any reward or—or—.”
    “Forgive me.” Martin flung up his hands in a defensive gesture to stem her flow of fierce words. “I have no wish to offend you or Ariane. I appreciate her offer of sanctuary, but even if Faire Isle was not so close off the coast of France, it would be the last place I would be inclined to take my daughter. As I told you before, I mean to bury the past.”
    “Whose past? The child’s or yours?” Cat retorted.
    When Martin arched one brow in haughty inquiring fashion, Cat knew she might do better to hold her tongue, but that had always been a wisdom she lacked.
    “I know all about your relationship with Miribelle Cheney.”
    “Indeed?” Martin inquired politely, but his eyes flashed a strong warning.
    Cat ignored it, rushing on. “Ariane told me how much you loved her sister. And that your heart was broken when she married Simon Aristide. I understand how awkward and painful the thought of seeing Miri again must be, but you needn’t worry. She hardly ever comes to Faire Isle these days.”
    Martin frowned. “Why is that? Faire Isle was Miri’s home. She loved it there beyond any place on earth.”
    “Yes, but her husband, the erstwhile witch-hunter, is not exactly welcome there.”
    Martin approached the bed. Curling his fingers about the newel post, he peered anxiously down at Cat.