Jeanette Cooper's Novels

Pulling a door shut behind her, Gabrielle paused, and turned to face Jonathan. His stare had her blood boiling up into her face. An odd moment hung suspended between them, and then exploded into a burst of shared intimacy felt by each. Gabrielle found her inner control floundering with confusion. Old rules of habit were no longer effective for dealing with these new feelings cropping up all too frequently.

     Like a shot of electricity, his penetrating gaze played havoc with her involuntary nervous system, causing her heart to react violently, her hands to sweat, and her breathing to become so short she nearly had to gasp for air.

     If she had not lowered her chin causing her long lashes to cover her blue eyes, she might have seen the tiny grin that sped across Jonathan’s lips and then disappeared. He had an uncanny aptitude of reading behavior, and what he read in Gabrielle’s behavior was a boon for him. He believed it would be easy to break down her armored defenses.

     “M’sieu Jonathan," she said slightly breathless, "there's a matter I feel you need to know.” They strolled leisurely down the hallway.

     At first, Jonathan guessed she might remind him she was a nun and not prone to more worldly pursuits as he surely was. “Feel free to tell me anything you like, my lady,” he invited cordially, mentally preparing for a reprimand of sorts.

Trina paced the floor in her room at the Gooseneck Inn, not bothering to stop when an adjoining door opened between her room and the one next door. “Trina, will you stop that damn pacing. You’re getting on my nerves,” Malcolm hollered.

      “Not near as much as you’re getting on mine,” she shouted. “If you had done what you planned to do, that wedding would never have taken place. How do you suppose we’ll eat now that Jonathan has cut off my allowance? I told you to get rid of that little bitch yourself, but no, you had to go hire that worthless jackass carpenter to do it for you. Because of your stupidity, I lost the best opportunity I’ll ever have again for a decent future. He would have married me. I am sure of it if not for that bloody nun, of all things! What could he possibly see in the simple little fool?”

“Apparently more than he saw in you! Let’s face it, sister dear, you’ve lost your touch. You just don’t have the knack anymore for what you once did best. You’ve lost your ability and you might just as well ask the inn keeper for a job as a serving wench since that’s about all you’re good for anymore.”

      “Go to hell, Malcolm. None of this is my fault. I’ve done all I set out to do. You are the one who ruined it by sending a fool to do your errand. With that little twit out of the way, we would have had everything we wanted. There would have been no one who could tie us to that situation in Paris, and I could have had Jonathan and his fortune. You can accuse me all you want, but it’s you who fall short of doing your job.”

      “Simmer down, you crazy bitch, or do you want the whole village to hear your caterwauling?"

      “Simmer down, he says,” she mocked in a screeching voice. “You want me to simmer down when we barely have the funds to buy another meal. I told you not to spend our last capital traveling to Paris to find out where the little twit was staying. In time, she would have come to town and you could have followed her. Instead, you’ve spent all our pittance of funds, bungled the damn coach job killing the driver instead of the twit, and hired an idiot who couldn’t get his mind out of his pants long enough to finish off the little fool. When, in the name of Satan, are you ever going to do something right, Malcolm?”

      “Use your damn head, Trina. No one could have known the outcome of the coach incident; and if I had tried to wield that dagger into Gabrielle’s heart, I would likely be sitting in jail in the place of that idiot I hired. I may be a fool in many ways, but I’m a hell of a lot smarter than you are in keeping my head out of a noose. Anyway, the trip to the convent wasn’t a waste. At least we know she can’t identify us unless her memory returns. Just keep the hell away from her so you don’t stir up her memory.”

      “You have to do something, Malcolm. There might still be a chance for Jonathan and me if she’s out of the way. I hope you bloody well don’t bungle the job next time, you stupid idiot.” She turned her face aside, tired of his presence. 

      “Watch your damned mouth,” Malcolm hissed through nicotine-stained teeth. “Do you truly think Lord Jonathan Briercliff will ever be yours? Have you forgotten, you stupid bitch, who you belong to?” His face turned red and his eyes glinted with steel coldness. 

      “How can I forget?” Trina retorted, looking like she might puke from the site of him.