Blackheart by Raelle Logan Read Free Book Online Page B

for strangling you.”
    “Are you?”
    “It was not my intension to cause harm,” Lochlanaire muttered, standing and then turning away from her perceptive eyes, eyes which seduced him to drown in their depths.
    “What demons possess you?”
    Lochlanaire sighed. “You needn’t burden yourself.”
    Siren accused, “You attempted to kill me at the waterfall. You owe me an explanation for your treason.”
    Lochlanaire roamed to the cavern’s entry. “I possess no memory…or little of who or what I am. My past has been torn…it is in shambles.”
    “How…is it possible to live without a memory?”
    Lochlanaire wondered such himself. “I cannot say. Alas, whenever I suffer my reflection, I behold the image belonging to a stranger.”
    “What do you remember?”
    “Jumbles of nightmares…death, destruction, murder.” Facing her, Lochlanaire saw terror poisoning her eyes.
    “Have you kidnapped me longing to kill me?”
    He explored the fire light as it frolicked over her. Lochlanaire could see that she did not sincerely covet the answer to her question. “I have not kidnapped you for the purpose of slaying you. However, so you may attest, I could at any time. Guard yourself, lady.”
    Siren dared, before he pursued his retreat…“My ring…I want my ring.”
    Looking at the ruby signet and then upon her, Lochlanaire avowed, “The ring is in my possession, thus it’s become a bloody pirate’s plunder.” Chuckling, Lochlanaire sauntered from the cave.
    Siren’s heart thumped wildly. He’s a pirate . How, God Almighty , how could she have landed in the arms of a vicious pirate?
    Desperate, Siren yanked on the chain, teeth clenched, her wrist bleeding for her ferocity.
     

CHAPTER FIVE

    Gypsy Wedding

    With Lochlanaire’s extensive absence, Siren loosened the iron tethering her wrist. Blood dripped over the shackle under her constant tugs, the iron then eased down her hand, for she folded inward her scratched fingers. She lurched her attention to the cave mouth and tiptoed to it. Not seeing Lochlanaire anywhere, Siren stepped in the other direction of the escape she’d tried in her first attempt and eased around the waterfall. She faltered on its misted shore, but she quickly gathered her tattered wits and continued her flight for freedom, twigs and rocks lacerated her naked feet. Voices drifting in the distance commanded her to run in another direction. The path guided ashore. Siren’s heart jumped with every noise the forest chirped. She searched for anything to garner as either raft or weapon. Siren discovered nothing of significance.
    As Siren circled the broad jut that split the wave-thrashed island, she came face-to-face with a dark brown haired, bearded man whose black eyes proclaimed how stunned he was to see her. His reaction, unfortunately for her, altered, and faster than she could procure an escape, he grabbed her wrist. He wrenched Siren in the direction of a fire lit camp. Here, she found a large throng of… gypsies ? Huddled under the moon-dazzled sky were a mass of gypsies sitting around a cozy bonfire. They were dressed similar as she, wearing colorful shirts, skirts and breeches…women, men and children. The throng halted the lilting music they played, enchanted by Siren’s unexpected presence among them. Siren was dragged forward, cutting between the imposing faction and she was commanded to sit on a felled log, which lay forefront of the warming fire.
    The gypsies surrounded her in a frightful crush. Whispers arose between the agitated men, their fingers pointed in her direction.
    A woman wearing a red scarf glinting wavy brown hair, her skirt whipping her legs, the gypsy’s once white linen shirt drooping from her shoulders, pierced the swarm. She sat next to Siren and raised one hand. The men quieted. She explored Siren’s fretful eyes. “Wed?”
    Siren balked. “Ah… what ?” The woman’s question puzzled. Siren peered at the charmed men, who hung on her every word. Their