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

Marri’s direction. “Maybe your brother’s assassins.”
    She didn’t want to think about that. “Well, shouldn’t we at least stop and bandage your wounds before you bleed to death?”
    “Yeah, I reckon so,” he agreed, though it wasn’t really necessary. Some of his minor injuries were already healing. Still, he needed to let her tend the others. She’d think it strange if he told her it wasn’t necessary.
    * * *
    Marri braced herself as the skiff bumped its way along a road that grew bumpier and narrower with each passing mile.
    She was about to ask Gryff if he knew where the path ended when he pulled up underneath a tall tree and switched off the engine.
    “Where are we?” she asked.
    “Nowhere.” Opening the door, he got out of the vehicle and made his way around to the hatch.
    Marri glanced out the windows, making sure there were no animals lurking in the bushes before she followed him to the rear of the skiff.
    Gryff was already inside. He had removed his shirt and she saw that he had sustained even more cuts and gashes than she had thought. In addition to several deep knife wounds, there were a number of small cuts and shallow gashes across his back and shoulders.
    “Do you have any bandages?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
    “I don’t know.” He sat down on one of the benches. “Check the drawers and see what you can find.”
    He didn’t know? She thought it odd that he didn’t know what supplies he had onboard. Searching through the drawers, she found an unmatched set of silverware, a box of matches, a flashlight, a deck of playing cards, several towels and washcloths, a can of antibacterial spray, and a couple of faded shirts. No bandages. She put the antiseptic on the table, then looked at Gryff.
    “Hand me one of those shirts,” he said. “then soak one of those towels in cold water and bring it here.”
    While he tore the shirt into strips, she did as he’d asked, picked up the soap, threw a second towel over her shoulder, and then, taking a deep breath, she knelt in front of him. The wound in his left arm seemed to be bleeding the most, so she started there.
    A muscle throbbed in his jaw when she began washing the blood from the wound.
    When she finished cleaning the injury, she patted his skin dry, sprayed the cut with antiseptic, then bandaged it with one of strips he had torn from the shirt.
    Marri tried not to notice how well-muscled he was as she washed the blood spattered across his chest and shoulders. The cuts here were mostly superficial, as was the one across his back. All had stopped bleeding by the time she had him cleaned up.
    Muttering, “Thanks,” he stood. Taking one of the shirts from the drawer, he tugged it over his head. It was a tight fit, but it was relatively clean.
    “Let’s go.”
    * * *
    Marri glanced out the window at the never-changing landscape. They had been traveling for several hours, stopping only for a meager lunch of meat and cheese. She was hungry and tired and, though she was loath to admit it, afraid of what lay ahead? What if the nuns refused to admit her? Lost in thought, she closed her eyes.
    When she woke, the night was as black as the ebony caves of Brynn Tor. She glanced at Gryff, wondering why they had stopped.
    “We’re spending the night here,” he explained.
    Marri looked out the window. “Here?” she asked tremulously.
    “You know a better place?”
    She shook her head.
    When he got out of the skiff, she followed him around to the back.
    Opening the cabin door, he gestured for her to get inside. “I’m gonna go have a look around.”
    “Do you have to?”
    “’Fraid so. Lock the door.”
    With a nod, she did as she was told, then looked out the window, but there was no sign of Gryff. How could he have disappeared so quickly?
    Filled with nervous tension, she picked up his blood-stained shirt, wondering if she should try to mend it or just throw it away.
    She was still debating when a wolf’s