Morganna (The Brocade Collection, Book 4) by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online Page A

serve me now. I am your master. Everything you have is mine. Everything.”
    His words were making every part of her feel like was jumping . Morgan frowned at such a sensation. ‘‘What have I done to deserve the likes of you? What?”
    “I d oona’ know, lad. Been poor long enough, I reckon.”
    “I’ve no wish to be a squire.”
    “You ever been one?” he asked.
    “Nay,” she answered.
    Then how do you ken you will na’ like it?”
    “If it’s anywhere near you, I will na’ like it,” she answered.
    He sighed hugely, his chest rising and falling with it. She watched it. “You were sorely in need of the employment, if your skinny hide, tattered sett, and hole-filled boots were any indication. You also have no family, or if you do, you doona’ claim them, and let’s not forget that you forced me to do it.”
    “Forced?” She didn’t have to pretend the confusion.
    “You tried to rob my dead body. That calls for action.”
    “I dinna’ rob anyone, dead or no.”
    “You lead robbers, therefore you are one.”
    She hung her head a moment, allowing him the victory. He’d earned it, for she’d thought much the same every time she had to do it. “There’s bound to be dozens of young FitzHugh clansmen to choose from, for the honor of serving their laird. Why me?”
    “Lo ok about you, lad. We’re leagues from FitzHugh land. There’s a shortage of my clansmen at present, and I’m na’ the laird. My brother is.”
    She was reeling, and it wasn’t from the shock. It was from the despair that opened right in front of her eyes until she couldn’t see him. She closed her eyes to keep it in. She’d vowed since the age of eleven, to avenge the KilCreggars. She’d honed a skill at knives, swords, sling-shot, bow and arrow, any weapon at her disposal, just so she could accomplish that one thing. She was prepared and willing to die with the deed, too.
    That meant taking their laird, The FitzHugh . Taking him and slitting his throat, and leaving him to bleed every drop in honor of the KilCreggar clan. She’d been trying to find her courage, and hating herself just last night for not having taken him when she had it gifted to her. She still didn’t know why she hadn’t, although she was beginning to suspect.
    Morgan gulped, trying to suppress what it was before she had to face it. She wasn’t used to being female, and he was more male than she’d ever been near. She was having to fight a response her body was woman enough to feel, and every prolonged moment in his company was making it intensify, and now she finds out he wasn’t even the laird?
    He was speaking when she opened her eyes again. She watched him. He might not be the laird, but he was the means of getting to him. She’d use Zander to do it and force herself to stifle any reaction to being near him. All of which meant that she wouldn’t fight herself free of him, after all. She wondered how to convince him of it.
    “...must have thought myself desirous of company, and you were the handiest one about. Now that I know your lack of nursing skill, I’d have lief just taken your hand for stealing from the dead and r idden away.”
    “I was na’ stealing from the dead. I get tired of repeating it, and I have great skill with a knife, just not on your thick hide.”
    “I grow tired of your tongue, too, as tired as I am of your laziness. Relieve yourself. We’ve a gathering to attend.”
    And, so saying, he parted his kilt. Morgan averted her face, felt the huge blast of heat to her entire body, and cursed herself for that reaction as he finished. “I’ve no need,” she replied stiffly.
    He glanced sidelong at her, and waited until she looked. “You have the sickness?”
    “I’ve no fever, if that’s your worry.”
    “You’ve a flush to your skin and no need to do what every other man needs to. Both signs of the fever.”
    Morgan’s eyes dropped. He’d noticed the blush she’d have given anything not to show? She was going to have