Donovan's Woman by Amanda Ashley Read Free Book Online Page A

beards and unkempt hair. And feral eyes that seemed to bore into her. She was certain they would as soon slit her throat — or worse — as look at her.
    Gryff gestured to an empty booth near the front. Marri slid over by the window, and he slid in beside her.
    Marri kept her gaze fixed on her folded hands. All those disreputable men staring at her made her feel dirty.
    “Marri, what do you want to eat?”
    “Anything,” she said, not looking up.
    Gryff ordered steak, fries, and coffee for both of them.
    When their meal came, Marri kept her gaze on her plate, hardly aware of what she was eating. All she wanted to do was get out of there, the sooner, the better.
    Gryff ordered coffee and sandwiches to go and paid the check. He handed the take-out sack to Marri, then followed her out the door, one hand on the knife sheathed beneath his jacket.
    She breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped outside. She had just opened the door of the skiff when she heard loud voices behind her.
    Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that three men had followed them out of the café. One was tall with dark skin, the second was thin and wiry, the third perhaps an inch taller than Gryff.
    “Get inside and lock the door,” Gryff said from behind her.
    She quickly did as bidden, then peered out the window.
    The three men surrounded Gryff, taunting him about what they would do to his woman after they finished with him.
    She sucked in a deep breath when she saw the flash of sunlight on steel. Three against one. What chance did Gryff have?
    She watched in awe as he parried the trio’s thrusting blades. Whirling, ducking, jabbing, he moved with a feral grace she had never seen before.
    It was exciting, exhilarating. Frightening.
    What would she do if he lost the fight?
    But he wasn’t losing. Even as she watched, he slit the throat of the man nearest him. The man went down amid a spray of crimson, convulsed, and lay still. A second man met a similar fate when Gryff’s blade slid between his ribs. The man fell to his knees; then, hands pressed against the killing wound, he pitched forward and lay still.
    Marri watched in horror as Gryff and the third man circled one another. Knees bent, chins tucked in, arms outstretched, they slashed at each other in a silent dance of death. She couldn’t take her gaze from Gryff. Eyes narrowed, teeth bared, his face and body splattered with blood, he was the most frightening, fascinating being she had ever seen.
    Her breath caught in her throat when the tall man’s blade opened a long gash in Gryff’s left arm. Gryff went down on one knee, and then, almost quicker than her eye could follow, he feinted left, dodged right. With a wild cry that reminded her of a wolf’s howl, he plunged his knife into his opponent’s belly and jerked it upward.
    Choking back the bile that rose in her throat, Marri closed her eyes, sickened by the sight of the man’s intestines spilling out like fat pink worms.
    She heard the driver’s side door open as Gryff climbed into the Landskiff, felt the craft lurch forward. Who was this man sitting beside her that he could dispatch three attackers so skillfully, who killed so efficiently?
    Whoever he was, she was glad he was on her side.
    Opening her eyes, she glanced at him. While watching the battle, she had been so intent on the fight, she hadn’t realized he had received so many wounds besides the one on his arm. Now, a wordless cry of alarm rose in her throat when she noticed the many dark stains spreading across his shirt and trousers. “You’re bleeding everywhere!”
    He grunted softly.
    She stared at the blood soaking his clothing, at the gash on his arm, the cut on his left shoulder. “Your arm needs stitching. Shouldn’t we find a doctor?”
    “I don’t think that would be a very smart thing to do.”
    “Who were those men?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe just drifters.” Or maybe Serepta’s henchmen. Forcing that disconcerting thought aside, he slanted a glance in