Lord of Hawkfell Island by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online

At least he had the presence of mind to pull her to the side of the bed so that the sea water didn’t end up soaking the feather mattress. Kerzog sat there, staring at thevomiting, heaving woman, just staring, not barking, just looking thoughtful at this stranger.
    â€œShe’s a witch,” he said to his dog, and Kerzog looked at him for a very long time, his tongue lolling from his mouth. “I should have let her drown. Keep your distance from her,” Rorik continued, “she just might bite you.”
    He slapped her hard between her shoulders one last time, then turned her onto her back once again. She stared up at him, her lips blue, her face whiter than her very white belly that he didn’t want to look at, that he refused to look at.
    â€œWhy didn’t you just let me drown?”
    â€œYou sound like a wet rag that’s been trod upon by a dozen men.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI should have,” he said, then pulled the blanket up to her throat. He looked at the thick black hair, sopping and matted and filthy, and quickly fetched a drying cloth of soft white cotton. He spread it beneath her head then fanned her hair out like a halo around her head to dry.
    â€œAre you through puking?”
    She nodded, so tired, so beaten, she had no more words. She wished he’d let her drown. She wished she’d let herself drown, but even though she’d wanted an easy death, something in her had rebelled and she’d fought her way to the surface, only to realize that she had no more strength. He’d saved her life, damn him. If he’d just walked away, it would be over. She thought of the past three days, the endless humiliation of it, ignored after a while even by his men, kept bound unless she had to relieve herself or eat. Aye, she wished he’d let her drown. And now there was this massive ugly dog sitting there, staring at her. She wonderedif the dog were as vicious and unpredictable as his master.
    â€œStay here and keep quiet. I’ll bring you some food.”
    He left her. Mirana immediately sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The dog didn’t move. She eyed him, then moved some more. The dog still didn’t move or growl, just sat there, looking at her. She whistled, then sang a verse from a child’s song her mother used to sing to her, but he still just sat there on his raw-boned haunches, looking. The chamber was dim. She was cold, shivering, despite the warmth of the room, despite the warmth of the sun that shone so brightly upon the thatched roof above.
    She wrapped the blanket around her and rose. She stumbled and sat down again. She drew a deep breath and stood again. Her legs were stronger now, but she was so weak, so very weak. Kerzog didn’t move.
    What should she do?

5
    S HE WAS STANDING when he came into the room again, a wooden bowl of stew in his hand. He stared at her as she was bent forward like an old woman, wrapped in a blanket, her hair streaming down her back and over her shoulders, staring at him, her eyes dull, her face too pale. He saw a brief spark of anger, of defiance perhaps, in her eyes, but it was quickly gone. As for Kerzog, he was being watchful, but nothing more. It appeared he’d made no move to stop the woman from rising from the box bed.
    He said to her, “I told you that my men really have no interest in you. You’re skinny, not at all appetizing. A man would have to be starving for a woman before he would turn his eyes to you. Although the dousing in the sea relieved you of the worst of your smell, you still look like a wet scrap. You will not go into the main chamber. Get back into bed. I won’t tell you again. Kerzog, watch her. Keep her here.”
    She didn’t move. His dog, raised by him from a tiny pup, merely kept looking at the woman.
    He frowned at his dog, then at her and took a step toward her. She still didn’t move.
    â€œWhere were you going?”
    â€œI