Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] Read Online Free

smoke than heat, filling the small cabin with a haze that burned her eyes. She was more than ready to leave.
    But how?
    She had saved his miserable life. Why wasn’t she gone from this place? Rachel sucked in her cheeks and looked up toward the ceiling. Ignoring the blackened rafters hung with more animal skins, she whispered under her breath. “Take me back... please.”
    “What be you mumbling about?”
    Rachel’s head snapped down, her eyes locking with his. “I don’t mumble.”
    “Nay, of course you don’t.”
    “I don’t.” Rachel turned her face away, then looked back quickly. “Where are you going?” He opened the door wider and stepped through, still carrying the rifle.
    “I’ll be taking a look about for your friends,” he said, ignoring her assurance that she came alone.
    At least he was gone.
    Rachel took a deep breath and, gathering her skirts, stood. Now all she had to do was... Hugging herself, Rachel pursed her lips. Whatever was she supposed to do? Certainly God knew her task was complete. He knew all, didn’t He? Then why wasn’t He putting her back in her real life? Or at least returning her to those two meddlesome spirits?
    The cabin was small. No more than ten paces took her from end to end, from hearth to window. She measured the dwelling several times before inspiration struck her. “Of course.” With a sigh of relief Rachel returned to the disheveled pile of furs and dropped to her knees. She took a moment to spread her silver and blue skirt about her.
    How could she be so foolish... so irreverent to think she could speak with God or His angels standing up. Piously she folded her hands. Her wig cocked forward over one brow as she bowed her head.
    “Blast this—” Rachel bit off her blasphemous words, glancing nervously toward the crude ceiling before impatiently setting her hairpiece to rights. Then she lowered her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to clear her mind of all but the purest thoughts.
    “God in Heaven, hear my humble prayer.” She paused, waiting for the Heavenly Spirit to flow through her. It didn’t. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary. After all, she was one of God’s instruments. An angel herself. An angel returned to earth to do God’s work. Buoyed by that thought, Rachel continued. “I have done what you asked of me.” And not without considerable hardship and—Perhaps she shouldn’t complain of the inconvenience. “I have rescued your... your... lamb.” Somehow she found it difficult to describe the man she saved as a lamb. A bull, perhaps. Or a bear. Rachel choked down a giggle, deciding it didn’t matter how she referred to him. The Lord knew whom she meant.
    “As you can tell, I have completed the task described to me and wish to return home.” She paused. “To Queen’s House, if you please.” A smile curved her lips. That appeared to be everything. But her “amen” was drowned out when the aforementioned lamb burst through the door.
    “Where in the hell did you come from?” Logan slammed the door behind him. “You heard me wench, I want an answer.” This last was spoken in a more subdued voice as he realized what she was doing. Though certainly no saint, he drew the line at interrupting someone’s prayers. Except that he wanted some answers and he wanted them now.
    She seemed to be finished anyway, for she stood, facing him, her chin raised in that haughty way she had as if she did him the most wondrous favor deigning to receive him. Except crude and primitive as it was, this cabin was his. She’d shown up on his mountain, his mountain, without so much as a by your leave, and he couldn’t find a footprint or a broken twig to indicate how she got here.
    And now she looked at him as if to say he could die and shrivel up before she would answer him. All from a slip of a woman with a skirt full enough to hide a scalping party. And hair that would do any warrior proud... if he displayed it on his scalp pole.
    Logan took a deep breath