Diablo by Patricia; Potter Page B

putting food on the table. She avoided his glance, but her cheeks flushed again, and he thought how pretty she was. Her hair was like a curly cap, golden tendrils framing the elfin face. Her eyes suddenly met his, and for a moment he thought of a startled fawn. They were so large, so brown, so … defenseless. That wasn’t true, of course. She had killed a man. She had lived among outlaws all her life. Yet there was something so innocent about her.
    He smiled. He smiled often, and he was good at it, but for the last few years his heart hadn’t been in it. This time it was. He wanted to reach out to her, to wipe away the worried frown that didn’t fit the face.
    â€œThank you,” he said as she placed a platter of steaks near him.
    She spared him a glance then, and her face softened, as if she hadn’t been thanked much. But then she turned and was placing other platters on the table, this time fried potatoes and a bowl of tomatoes. Finally, she took a chair herself, the last empty one, across from her uncle and next to himself.
    He tried not to watch her as he ate. Nat Thompson lapsed into silence, shoveling food into his mouth as if he’d never had a meal. Robin ate in a similar fashion.
    The steak was better than the one at the hotel, and the potatoes were the best he’d ever had. As uncomfortable as he was at the table, as uncertain as to Thompson’s intent, Kane enjoyed every bite.
    Still, uneasiness gnawed at him. Although Thompson had thanked him for the hawk, Kane didn’t believe for one second that was the real reason for the invite. Nor, he suspected, had it been the pleasure of his company.
    Nicky was silent during the first part of the meal. She finally looked at him, and their eyes clashed. The side of her mouth curled up in a slight smile. “And how do you like Sanctuary, Mr. O’Brien?” she asked sweetly. It was a voice he decided he didn’t trust. “Are you still restless, or have you found some … more solace?”
    â€œJust being alive is solace,” he said, noticing that Nat Thompson had stiffened in his chair.
    â€œYou escaped the day before they were going to hang you,” she noted conversationally, and a challenge was in her eyes. “What did you think about?”
    â€œEscaping,” he said with some humor.
    â€œHow did you do it?” Robin said eagerly as Nicky gave him a censorious look that had absolutely no effect.
    â€œBy the grace of God,” Kane replied.
    Robin looked puzzled.
    â€œA priest,” Kane explained. “A man of God who wanted me to repent. I knocked him out and took his clothes. The rest was easy.” Nicky appeared taken aback, Robin incredulous, Thompson delighted.
    â€œI’ll have to remember that,” Thompson said.
    â€œI think they’ll be searching priests more thoroughly,” Kane said dryly.
    Thompson laughed, but his gaze was thoughtful as he watched Kane.
    â€œWill you teach me something about hawks?” Robin said eagerly, unaware of the tension in the room.
    â€œWhat little I know,” Kane said. “You will have to teach him to hunt on his own, since his mother can’t.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œWhen he can fly. And once he learns to hunt, you should let him go free.”
    â€œBut I want to keep him.”
    â€œBirds are born to be free,” Kane said. “Just as men are.” He heard the hard edge in his own voice, a trace of the pain that lingered from his various imprisonments.
    â€œIs that why you fought for the South?” The question came from Thompson. After the past hour, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Like a boy playing with a fly, Nat Thompson had been picking away at him since he arrived.
    â€œNot particularly,” Kane answered carelessly, keeping his gaze on Thompson’s. He didn’t want to see the expression on Nicky’s face, not as he was about to say words that would kick her in the stomach.