Devil's Angel by Mallery Malone Read Free Book Online Page B

is dead,” she said as gently as she could. “But Lady Erika is here, and well.”
    She would not tell him that his sister was locked in Conor’s private chamber and had been for the past three days while Conor hunted down raiders to the north. She would not tell him that Erika slept in chains for two days prior to that. She would not tell him how close his sister came to being raped and killed. Gwynna remembered the anguish her brother had endured on her behalf. She would spare Olan that.
    He blinked several times, and she wanted to weep for him, for causing him this pain.
    His eyes found hers again. “I would see for myself how my sister fares.” His free hand gripped the covers, lifting them away.
    “Please don’t!” Gwynna rose to her feet to stop him, knocking over her stool in her haste. Even if he could rise, he wore nothing save his bandages. Despite having seen that body injured and bleeding, it would be quite another to see it hale and hearty. Quite another.
    Olan came to the same conclusion she had, for he fell back to the pallet, the cover tight to his body. “I feel as shaky as a new-birthed foal.”
    “Your wounds were grievous, my l—Olan.” Gwynna hoped her face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. “Many a time was it that I almost lost you.”
    The smile returned, illuminating his brilliant eyes. “Yes, I remember. I was on the path to heaven or Valhalla, I’m not sure which, and an angel blocked my way.”
    “An angel?”
    He nodded. “An angel. But unlike any heavenly being I’d ever heard of.”
    Gwynna was drawn into the tale, mesmerized by cobalt blue eyes. “In what way?”
    “The monks describe angels as golden-haired creatures of light, with wings upon their backs. This angel had hair as black as a raven’s wing, and eyes as green as this land in springtime. Her beauty outshone the sun.”
    His quiet, compelling tone stole her breath. Could he be talking about her? True, she had dark hair and green eyes, but she was no beauty. “Go on.”
    “She was also different in that, instead of wearing white robes, she wore a simple dress soaked with blood.”
    He smiled at her startled gasp. “Yes, you were that angel. Each time I tried to continue on the path, you denied me passage.” He gazed at her, his expression apologetic. “I was very angry with you.”
    Despite his warm gaze, Gwynna shivered. “I remember.”
    Even more than his sister, this Northman had fought her. She looked down at his hands, remembering how they had wrapped around her wrists as he raged with fever, leaving her bruised.
    “I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asked, his remorse clear. “Forgive me.”
    Touched by his concern, she leaned towards him, laying a hand on his in an impulsive move. “There’s naught to forgive,” she said. “You were wracked with fever and pain. As long as you fought, you’d live. Neither I nor your sister were ready to let you go.”
    His hand turned beneath hers, lightly clasping and leaving her breathless. His gaze was like a caress to her flushed skin. When was the last time a man had looked at her like that, she wondered. Had she ever been regarded in that way? She felt as if he wanted her to draw closer so that he could touch her, kiss her. Gwynna leaned towards him, closing her eyes…
    A low rumbling sound rose between them. Startled, her eyes flew open. “What was that?”
    Laughter, deep and strong, answered her. “My stomach,” Olan said with rueful good nature. “I believe I will survive after all, if my hunger is any indication.”
    There were many kinds of hunger, she knew. At the moment, staring into the intense blue of his eyes, she was unsure if he was speaking of food.
    She moved toward the door, of a sudden needing to put space—leagues—between them. “I will see to a meal for you.”
    “I would like to see my sister.”
    Gwynna froze, her back to him. She had dreaded this request, and now that it was upon her, she was struck by indecision. How would he