The Skylighter (The Keepers' Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

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    The girl had certainly faced her father’s anger a time or two, most recently as Inimigo had rushed to depart Santiago a few days earlier. It had been an ugly scene, starting at the dinner table, where the duke received an urgent message from one of his underlings that described problems rising in Maringa, and then continuing into the courtyard.
    Inimigo dragged Maribelle by the arm out to his waiting carriage, whispering fiercely. Dom wasn’t able to hear the words they exchanged, but their body language was clear. She kept her head down, waiting for a blow to fall. The audience of DeSilvas and staff on the stairs might have been the only thing that saved her from a beating.
    “Is everything well, Maribelle?” Lady DeSilva asked as Inimigo’s carriage bumped down the road.
    “Yes, my lady,” Maribelle said, folding her arms to cover the red marks her father had left behind. “My father cannot abide disobedience, and one of his closest advisors has gone against his word. With that and the peasants’ rebellion, he’s quite discomfited.”
    “Is that what he was reminding you of?” Lady DeSilva’s tone was kind, concerned, but the question was worded so as not to pry.
    “As always,” Maribelle said with a dramatic sigh. It would have been a believable act, but Dom caught the quick grin she exchanged with one of her attendants—a bit too pleased, considering the circumstances.
    Now, standing on the manor roof, and knowing the stories of Inimigo and his gift for treachery, Dom was certain something nefarious was afoot. Leaving Maribelle behind had supposedly been an effort to foster a good relationship between families and to allow her to seek Rafi as a suitor. But with Rafi on the hunt to find Johanna and her kidnappers, Maribelle had every opportunity to gather information about the DeSilvas and stir up trouble in the household.
    Dom was determined to stand in her way at every turn.
    “What’ve you got?” He took her hand.
    “Nothing.” She kept her face down and wouldn’t open her fist.
    “This doesn’t look like nothing.” The edges of a crumpled paper stuck out from between her fingers.
    Gently he pried it free. The paper was rolled into a tight scroll, ready to be attached to a pigeon’s foot. He released her so he could slide off the twine that held it shut.
    She snatched the roll and lunged toward the nearby chimney, where a hint of smoke was rising.
    Dom reacted instantly, grabbing the girl around the waist, tripping on her skirts, and landing them both in a heap on the rooftop. He scrambled up her body and knelt over her, snatching the paper before she could shred it to oblivion.
    “What is this?” He picked up the scattered pieces of paper and tried to fit them together.
    She answered him with a glare sharp enough to gut a rabbit. “It’s not what you think it is.”
    Lindo,
    Remember the night in Cruzamento? I think of it often. You must be more careful when approaching me in public. . . .
    He read the words once, twice, a third time, before turning over the scraps and studying the back. “Is this . . . a love letter?” It could have been written in code—and probably was—but to the casual eye it appeared innocuous. “Who’s Lindo? Is that a real name or a code name?”
    Maribelle pushed him away and rolled to a sitting position. “I’m not answering any of your questions. My personal correspondence is none of your affair.”
    “You’re a guest on my family’s estate. Any secret message that will bring trouble—”
    “It won’t!” Tears glistened in her dark eyes, and her cheeks had gone splotchy. “It’s a love letter, just as you deduced.”
    He didn’t believe her. Ladies like Maribelle used tears as tools, shedding a few salty droplets when they needed a little leverage. They’d cry and sniffle, and expect a man to bend to their will. But Dom wasn’t falling for it.
    “You’re in Santiago to gain my brother’s affections, and you’re sending a