Bound to the Wolf Prince by Marguerite Kaye Read Free Book Online

them?”
    â€œI’ve told you, you can go when I can take the time to escort you.”
    â€œAnd when will that be? Never, Eoin. Three years I’ve been waiting. And Grada is supposed to be so beautiful.”
    â€œNowhere is as beautiful as Kentarra.”
    â€œNo, but Struan says…”
    â€œYou forget yourself, Sorcha.” Eoin pushed back his chair. “How dare you question my authority!”
    To Freya’s eyes, Eoin looked as if he had grown again. He seemed always to do so when angry. She wondered at his sister, glaring up at him defiantly, seemingly quite unaffected by this display of raw power. Even as she watched, an exquisite silver wolf swam into view.
    â€œStop that at once,” Eoin said coldly.
    The wolf narrowed its eyes, her hackles rose, then Sorcha reappeared. She glared at Eoin defiantly for a long moment, chewing her lip. Then she shrugged, and turned towards Freya. “You must be Laird Ogilvie’s daughter,” she said. “I heard my brother had found you.” Her smile faded abruptly.
    â€œWhat is it? What is wrong?” Freya exclaimed. Sorcha was staring at her, her eyes wide, her hand covering her mouth, as if she had seen a ghost. Freya shivered.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Sorcha said. “It looks like—I thought for a moment it was — it’s nothing.” She poured herself a goblet of juice, holding the silver ewer carefully with both hands. Until now, her second sight had been confined to routine matters such as predicting the sex of a child or the coming of a storm. She drew Freya a sidelong look. The creature was still there, though the Highland female obviously had no idea of its presence. Not a part of her then, but some sort of portent, or an omen, perhaps. It was perplexing. She had no idea what it signified. She turned to Eoin and caught a fleeting glimpse of his wolf, which was unusual. He was obviously unsettled about something. She had no intentions of upsetting him any further. “Don’t mind me,” she said airily, “I’m always seeing things.”
    â€œOne of these days you might even see sense,” Eoin said grimly.
    Abandoning her breakfast, Sorcha made for the door. Whatever the apparition signified, one thing seemed certain. There was change in the air.
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    For the next few days, Eoin managed to maintain his remote princely demeanour. Freya told herself she was glad. He was obviously set on maintaining the barriers he had built around himself. Even if she did want to break them down—and she didn’t!—what was the point? She would be going home soon. There was no place for her here on Kentarra, though the more she experienced it the more she grew to wish that there could be. Freya had discovered that everything here on Kentarra was brighter, more colourful, more intense than home which seemed flat, dull and grey in comparison.
    After two days, having proved to himself that he was perfectly capable of resisting her, Eoin relaxed. He began to seek Freya out more often. Since she was not Faol, he could talk to her of things he would not share with his people. It was an unexpected relief to have someone to confide in, someone to listen and challenge andquestion and sympathise. He felt—less lonely. Two more days passed, and her company had become a habit he was reluctant to break. She blossomed in his presence. He relaxed in hers. To a point. The allure between them bound them both like a rope, pulling them ever tighter, closer, fraying the resistance of their wills. It took six days before it finally snapped.
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    They had climbed high up on the cliff top, intending to visit the hot springs, having gained the plateau by means of a spiral staircase cut into the rock, emerging through an elaborate grilled trap door, blinking in the brilliant sunlight. From this, the highest point on Kentarra, the circle of azure-blue sea which surrounded the