If You Dare by Kresley Cole Read Free Book Online Page B

shortcomings.”
    He waved her statement away with his cast, which was also streaked with mud. “I was going to send it back.”
    â€œIs that why, of all the horses in the stable, our ranch’s stud was found saddled and with a-a . . . he was saddled and wandering?”
    â€œNo, I took him because—” He broke off. “Just forget it.”
    â€œI want to know why!” Why that and why he would just leave. Without a word of thanks. And why should that nettle her so much? She wanted him gone.
    â€œAnd I said”—he leveled a forbidding glare at her—“to forget it.”
    Obstinate man! “I want you out of my house today.”
    â€œAnd how should I accomplish that, since I could no’ sit a horse last night and barely got back inside?”
    â€œI don’t care if you have to roll down the mountain. Pascal’s men will come for you, and when they do, we will all pay for your selfishness.”
    â€œUnlike you people, I canna run up and down sheer mountains all day—like bloody mountain goats—when I am strong. Much less with bashed ribs and a stone of muscle lost.”
    â€œIf you could make it outside last night, you’re well enough to leave a place that holds no welcome for you.”
    He crossed his arms, his eyes growing darker.
    â€œSo, MacCarrick, if you have no other objections—”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œNo. I meant no, I’m no’ leaving.”
    Remain calm! Ignore the increasingly familiar urge to close in on his face and screech at him. “You will, because this is my home.”
    â€œWho’s going to throw me out? The old man? The bairn? No’ a single man in sight who can do it.”
    Mare de Déu, she wished he’d stop saying that. Because hewas right. He could stay for as long as he pleased. Wrestling with her temper, she forced herself to say in a soft voice, “I saved your life, and I’m asking you to leave my home. If you are a gentleman that must count for something.”
    â€œIf I honor your wishes, you’d have saved my life in vain. So it’s bloody convenient that I’m no’ a gentleman.”

Five

    I f Pascal’s first letter had been the judgment, his second had been the sentence. Annalía stood dazed at the oak desk, the paper in her hand crumpled and damp from her palm.
    She’d waited for his instructions, more nervous than she’d ever been. The last four days had been more nerve-wracking even than when a coach-and-six unexpectedly crunched into the white gravel drive of her school. If a carriage came, no one raised an eyebrow. A carriage meant a day trip. But a coach-and-six struck fear into the hearts of the girls, and they would all tear across the schoolroom to look out from the balcony, praying their family’s crest wouldn’t be emblazoned on the door.
    A surprise coach-and-six meant some girl’s life was about to drastically change.
    As drastically as Annalía’s was.
    Pascal had called for her. The hours had dragged by as she’d awaited his summons, hours made more miserable by hearing the Highlander restlessly stomping all over her home.
    He’d been like a loosed bull in the manor, which necessitated her behaving like a frightened hare to avoid him. Their game would end tomorrow. The general expected her to join him then and marry him by the week’s end.
    She wasn’t even near Pascal, and yet already his hand stretched far to control her.
    She burned the letter in the study’s fireplace then paced until her legs ached and the sun had set, uncaring as to what her father would have thought. Apparently, she couldn’t help it. She remembered another time when she’d been home briefly from school and he’d caught her at it. She’d been sixteen. That time his hard, weathered face had looked grave, his eyes full of pain. “Elisabet used to do that.”
    Of