The Drifter by Susan Wiggs

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By Susan Wiggs

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Jackson prompted. She already regretted the turn the conversation had taken. Yet it was surprisingly easy to talk to him. 3/10/2010 11:27 AM 44 de 221 file:///C:/Documents%20and%20Settings/Clecia%20Medeiros/My%20D... Probably because she knew that he was only here for a short time; then she'd never see him again. He couldn't use the things she told him to hurt her. "He never quite understood my insistence on practicing medicine for the good of humankind rather than to make money. He thought I should spend my leisure time pursuing drawing-room etiquette.

This, he knew then, was what drove men to murder. " he asked again. "Where? " "Already heading…down the Big Muddy—" Brother Anthony stopped abruptly. Strong arms grabbed Jackson from behind. Fists clad in brass knuckles beat him senseless. He'd awakened hours or days later—he couldn't tell which—in a windowless cell in the basement. One eye swollen shut, a constant ringing in his ears, broken rib stabbing at his midsection. It had taken him days to recover from the beating, and still longer to ambush the luckless boy who brought him his daily meal.

Her owner was down on his luck, but I'm told in her day, she sailed the Far East, plying the waters around the island groves, looking for rare teas. I mean to go there someday," he said, almost to himself. " "I'm not sure. Someplace far. Exotic. " The gruffness in his voice caught at her. "And what's that, Mr. " "Paradise. " His ears reddened after he spoke. "I guess. " He shrugged dismissively. " She handed it to him, frowning a little. " "I find you quite hard to understand," she admitted. "My profession is the motivating factor of my life.

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