Blackstone's Bride (26 page)

Jay and Raven crawled out next, a matched pair of ruffians at ten. She handed out more slates.

Finch came out, bringing her bag. He gave it to her and accepted a slate in exchange. The boys sat, looking at each other’s slates without speaking until a voice from within the pyramid muttered, “Idiots.” Dav knew their dilemma and wondered if they would admit it to a stranger.

At last Swallow admitted, “We can’t read.”

Lark and Rook slid out of the tunnel and stood, arms crossed over thin chests. “And wot do we care? Words don’t slay ogres.”

“Besides Daventry can read. As long as we’ve got ’im, we don’t need ’er.” Rook looked to Dav for support.

Instant debate started.

“She could stay until she teaches us to read.”

“But only seven words.”

“A week, then.”

“’Oo wants a blinkin’ girl around for a week? Girls, useless as warts.”

Dav held up his sword, and they fell silent. “We vote then. Who wants to keep her for a week?”

“A fortnight.” The girl’s voice shocked him. There was an unmistakable hint of desperation in it that woke all the instincts that had kept him alive for three years in the streets of London. She was not the ancient scholar he’d expected, nor was she what she appeared to be.

“I will stay a fortnight. No less, or not at all,” she declared firmly. She had control of herself again, except for her eyes.

He felt the boys’ gazes on him. He knew the smart thing to do, the thing his brothers would advise. But his street self was awake in him now, alert to snatch any good thing that came his way. She was a prize, a windfall from a passing wagon, a treasure washed in on the tide. The desperate flash of need in those blue eyes told him so, told him that whoever had once possessed her had let her go. She was his for the taking. He would have the end of her story.

“Miss Portland, you may have your fortnight. Prove yourself a worthy tutor to my boys, and you may have the position.” He made it sound like a gentlemanly request, reasonable and aloof.

She did not thank him, but he did not miss the relief in her eyes.

“Tea, lads. Take the sword,” he ordered. Lark took the hilt, and Jay and the others lined up to carry the long blade. Where he could lift it with ease, the weight of it made them stumble awkwardly, like pallbearers shuffling solemnly under their burden.

Dav was left with the beautiful stranger he’d hired without a glance at her credentials, wondering irrelevantly, where she would sleep.

Berkley Sensation titles by Kate Moore

TO TEMPT A SAINT

TO SAVE THE DEVIL

TO SEDUCE AN ANGEL

BLACKSTONE’S BRIDE