Free The Huntress by Susan Carroll Page A

“So—so Miri is not happy then?”
    “I didn’t say that. Miri might have loved Faire Isle, but she loves her husband more. She is completely besotted with the man, more so than ever since the birth of their daughter and—” Cat checked herself at last, glancing ruefully up at Martin. “I am sorry. This is likely the last thing you wanted to hear.”
    “No, it is exactly what I wanted to hear. I am glad that she is well and—and happy.”
    He truly meant that, Cat was astonished to realize. Lord knows she had not been so generous when Rory O’Meara had broken faith with her all those years ago, roundly cursing the man’s name every time it was mentioned.
    But Martin’s voice had softened as he spoke of Miri, his eyes full of such tenderness and regret, it roused a strange ache of envy within Cat’s bosom. She wondered if Rory ever still spoke of her with such fondness. No, she thought bleakly, very likely the O’Meara never spoke of her at all, never even spared her a thought. She was not like Miri, fey and gentle, full of feminine graces, the sort of woman a man would never forget.
    Martin’s gaze turned inward as though caught up in some poignant recollection of the past. Then he gave himself a brisk shake.
    “Miri and I parted as good friends. My reluctance to go to Faire Isle has more to do with Meg. When I rescued my daughter from that coven, I vowed to expel all witchcraft and magic from her life.”
    “You can hardly equate the women of Faire Isle and Ariane with those evil witches of the Silver Rose.”
    “I have nothing but the greatest respect for Ariane Deauville—”
    “And so you had better,” Cat said fiercely.
    “But I don’t see where studying this ancient knowledge ever did anything for Ariane except get her charged with witchcraft. I envision a far better, safer future for Meg. I intend to see her become a great lady one day, happy, prosperous, and well married.”
    Cat regarded him incredulously. “And you think what? That the past will all go away just because you will it so? From what I have been told, your daughter possesses certain gifts and abilities that she inherited from Cassandra Lascelles.”
    “That woman’s name is not to be mentioned beneath my roof,” Martin snarled. “Meg inherited
nothing
from her mother. Nothing. As far as I am concerned that part of her life is over and done with. Now where are the rest of your belongings?”
    “My belongings?” Cat faltered, jolted by the abrupt change of subject. “I didn’t have much, just a small saddlebag. I left it at the inn where I stayed last night. The Fighting Cock in Southwark, near the riverbank. But regarding your daughter—.”
    “I know the place. I will send one of my servants to fetch your pack.” He strode toward the door.
    “But Monsieur le Loup—I mean Master Wolfe.” Clutching the covers and ignoring her aches, Cat tried to struggle to the edge of the bed. “Martin!”
    He paused at the door, turning to look back at her. Something had shut down in his eyes, his expression so cold and forbidding, for once Cat was stilled to silence.
    “Understand this, Mistress O’Hanlon. As a friend of Ariane, you are welcome to remain here until you are recovered. But there will be no further discussion of my daughter. When you are well, you will return to Faire Isle and convey to the Lady my compliments and thanks for her concern. But Meg is staying right where she is.”
    Sketching a civil bow, he swept from the room, leaving Cat staring openmouthed at a closed door. Then she flopped back down upon the mattress with a groan, frustrated and fuming.
    She had been warned that Martin le Loup might be a trifle stubborn, but even Ariane had not prepared Cat for a man as blockheaded as this. She needed to get up, find her clothes, go after Martin, and pound some sense into his thick head. Even if she had to use old Agatha’s cane to do it.
    If only her own head wasn’t still throbbing as though a