Free Dark Rider by Iris Johansen

way to get out of the cottage and down to Kamehameha’s village.
    •   •   •
    Bradford looked up as Jared strode out on the veranda. “How is she?”
    “Stubborn,” Jared said curtly as he dropped down in the chair opposite his uncle. “Other than that I’d say she’s recovering rapidly.”
    “She’s fond of her father?”
    “Yes.” Jared poured a whiskey. “God knows why. He apparently ignores her most of the time and has clearly brought her up as a savage.”
    “The life of a savage can be very pleasant.” Bradford leaned back in the chair and lifted his glass. “And it’s not uncommon for a woman to love an undeserving lout and give him her loyalty. Though not many of them would go to the lengths she did. She must be brave.” He shuddered. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go sliding along that mountainside in the dark.”
    Jared took a long drink. “It wasn’t altogether dark.”
    “Close enough for me.” Bradford tilted his head. “You’re still angry with her. Why? You would have done the same in her place.”
    “I wouldn’t have been in her place. My father was not a butcher.”
    “He was no angel either,” Bradford said quietly. “John was a brave man but he had his faults. Even though you were only a lad of thirteen, you must have realized that he was arrogant as the devil and even more of a womanizer than I was.”
    “That didn’t mean he deserved to be murdered.” He took another drink. “He was in Danjuet to save lives, and Deville betrayed him.” His hand tightened on the glass. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see them slice him to ribbons. I think even you would have learned to hate, Bradford.”
    “Perhaps.” Bradford’s eyes were sympathetic. “Iwish it had been I who had seen it instead of you, lad. But you shouldn’t be angry at the daughter for the father’s sin.”
    “Shouldn’t I?” He looked down into the amber liquid in his glass. “Stay out of this, Bradford. I won’t have you interfering. She’s the key I need to get to Deville.”
    “And what happens if she won’t cooperate?”
    “Then I do whatever I have to do.”
    Bradford frowned. “I don’t like this. There’s too much anger in you.”
    He finished the brandy and poured another. “I’ve waited a long time.”
    “Not to hurt the innocent as well as the guilty.”
    “Only if the innocent help the guilty.”
    “You seem more angry with her than with him.”
    Because he would not have it any other way, dammit. Jared’s anger at Deville was cold and sharp, honed through the years, but he had to work to keep his anger at the girl fresh and hot. In the past twenty-four hours she had aroused him to anger, pity, fear, and an admiration he would not admit even to Bradford. Anger was safe. If he yielded to a softer emotion, then he would lose his key.
    But lust need not be soft. It could be hot and frantic and iron hard.
    The thought came so swiftly that he knew it had been waiting just beneath the surface. She was not the child he had thought was forbidden to him. He could reach out and take …
    Christ, what was he thinking? Who could be more forbidden than Deville’s daughter? He was her enemy, and he wouldn’t pretend to be anything else. Frustration surged back in a storm of rejection.
    “That’s your third brandy,” Bradford observedwith interest. “Are you returning to your days of depravity?”
    He hadn’t realized he’d poured another brandy. He was tempted to drink the whole damn bottle. No, he was too close to his goal and would need a clear head in the next few hours. He pushed the glass aside. “No.”
    “Too bad.” Bradford sighed. “It’s a sad and mournful cross for a man to be forced to be depraved alone.”
    “You bear it well.” He stood up. “Come along.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “To the stable.”
    Bradford immediately brightened, as Jared had known he would. “Is there something worth looking at?”
    “You thought there was last night. I