Knight In My Bed by Sue-Ellen Welfonder Read Free Book Online Page B

eyes. "As for the slurs you find so distressing, were I to voice what I truly think of you, you would abandon your ill-chosen plans for misplaced revenge and run for the safety of your mother's skirts."
    Isolde flinched. Would that she could seek the comfort of her mother's understanding. But the light had gone out of her mother's eyes long ago, and with it, her senses.
    It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the insolent lout what she thought of him, his stance arrogant, his legs spread beneath one of her bed-sheets, hands braced on his lean hips, and his too-bonnie face darkened with displeasure. But she said naught, for her mouth had gone too dry for her to speak.
    The blackguard appeared as much a mind reader as old Devorgilla. And he made her feel as exposed as if she already stood before him wearing naught but her indignation.
    Turning away, she rested her hands on the back of a chair. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and she was weary from the chaos and turmoil that had swept into her world since Lileas's death.
    Damn the MacLean for reminding her she'd lost her mother as well. Isolde blinked back the hot sting of tears. Though, even now, the lady Edina sat below-stairs in Dunmuir's great hall, comforted by warm blankets and the elders' respectful attentions, Isolde's vacant-eyed mother might as well be long in her grave for what little notice she took of the world around her.
    A hesitant cough sounded behind her, but she wasn't about to turn around. Some wild-brained notion entered her mind that he sensed he'd pushed her too far, that his next words might be different entirely from the insults he'd spewed at her thus far.
    But she did not want his comfort.
    Saints forbid.
    She had ample solace from the cailleach, and from Bodo, when she needed it. She also had the rough-hewn devotion Niels and Rory afforded her. And she had the crone's anti-attraction potion.
    Should she need it.
    Not that she'd seen a fig of the MacLean's legendary charm. Still, his looks alone would've stolen her heart were he any other man.
    And the fluttery sensations that whirled and eddied through her each time he turned his dark gaze on her were surely caused by irritation and naught else.
    Isolde slipped her hand into the folds of her skirt and fingered the leather-wrapped flagon of anti-attraction infusion. The potion would purge her of any possible flarings of interest his alarming resemblance to her dream man might awaken in her.
    Before she could think better of downing the bitter-tasting tincture, she unstopped the flagon, and lifted it to her lips. Three rapid gulps were all she could manage before a convulsive shudder swept over her.
    "Mother of God, woman, what are you about there?" came the MacLean's outraged voice behind her.
    "Naught that concerns you." She wheeled to face him, a leather-wrapped flask clutched tight in her hand. Her creamy skin had gone a shade paler, and her beautiful eyes were wide and over-bright.
    "So long as I am chained to your bed, lady, what you do does concern me," Donall said dryly. "I would know what foul brew you've swallowed and why?"
    She pressed her lips together and simply stared at him. Proud, indignant, and obviously struggling to ignore the shudders still wracking her elegant, and temptingly supple body.
    A body whose tremors he wouldn't mind stilling by drawing her tight against him in a crushing embrace, saints preserve him.
    As if she sensed her victory over his flagging will to resist his attraction to her, she lifted her chin and gave him a tiny, grudging smile.
    A smile that sank into him like the sun's warmth on a fine midsummer's day.
    Donall closed his eyes and concentrated on the cold iron pressing against his ankle until its chill vanquished the stirrings unleashed by a single, fleeting smile.
    When he looked at her again, she was replacing the little flagon's stopper. She'd moved to the hearth, and the fire's glow highlighted her curves and gilded her thick braids with pure gold. His