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

to suppress that, too, and she didn’t know enough about a blush to be able to stop one, or even if it was possible.
    It was stupid, too. It wasn’t as if she’d never been around lads before. She’d been working and living beside them for years. They just lost significance next to Zander FitzHugh, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid of why.
    “If you’ve finished bandying words, come along.” He didn’t ask. He yanked on the cord and Morgan moved. ‘‘We’ve a deer to fetch, a breakfast to purchase and some ground to cover. There’s a fair at Bannockburn. There’ll be many clans represented. I’ve hankering to be there.”
    “A fair? You woke this early to attend a fair?”
    “’Tis as good a reason as any. Besides, who needs a reason to attend a fair? Hurry along.” He walked at a pace that had her jogging, and kept the cord short to keep her near. “Yonder MacPhee lasses are fair of face, although a bit stodgy for my taste, but with the proper flirting, they’ll cook you some eggs, too, and not burn them overmuch. They’ve a dearth of menfolk, too. Lost most of them to another useless clan skirmish. We’ve got to stop that. We’ve got to combine our energies to fight our real enemy.”
    “The FitzHughs?” she asked.
    He stopped and turned, and she plowed into him. She already knew how solid he was. Her face now knew it, as she hit the side of his jaw. She rubbed her nose to keep it from bleeding while he looked at her with a look of surprise, and not one bit of pain.
    “You follow too close.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You’ve the end of my bond,” she replied.
    “You behave yourself, and I’ll take it off.”
    “Oh, I live to serve,” she retorted too quickly.
    “If I cut this bond, I do it for my own reason. You test me, you’ll not enjoy it.”
    ‘‘Nothing about serving you is enjoyable,” she replied.
    He grinned. “You’ve a bit of learning to do, but you are quick. I’ll give you that. Curb your tongue at the MacPhee croft. A squire does na’ toss barbs at his master.”
    “Cut this bond, I’ll curb it.”
    He pulled a dirk out and held it to the braided rawhide on her wrist. “I hope I don’t regret this, Morgan, but I’d not like the MacPhee lasses to think us joined for a reason.”
    She shrugged. “Tell them I’m your prisoner. It’s truth.”
    “A prisoner wearing my own sett? God, grant me patience!”
    “I’ll not test you.” She waited until he raised his head and favored her with that midnight-blue gaze again. Her entire torso was afire with ache, from walking at too brisk a pace and not having the chance to relieve herself. She’d do whatever he required.
    “Your word?”
    “You have it,” she replied.
    He nodded, slit the cord on her wrist, and then his own. She was r ubbing hers where it was red and angry-looking before he finished and looped the cord through his belt.
    “Come along, then, and watch yourself. The lass named Lacy likes to use her hands. Oft.”
    He set off at the same pace, and Morgan kept at his heels until he pulled down and halved her deer. He was concentrating on his task, although she knew he was listening for her. She didn’t go far, but she knew he’d hear her taking nature’s call. He wouldn’t know how she used the time to put the small swath of kilt against her heart and bind herself. S he was surprised at how much confidence it gained her when the band was in place, and she no longer bounced and had to endure every rub of her tunic material. She didn’t think she liked anything about being a woman. The restrictive feeling of her binding reassured her of it. She didn’t want anything to do with Zander FitzHugh as a male, either. He was merely troubling her because she wasn’t used to being around a handsome, virile, full-grown man. That was it.
    She didn’t care a fig for Zander FitzHugh, other than a means to get to the laird. She didn’t even care if he thought her shy, and she did her best to f