My Shadow Warrior by Jen Holling Read Free Book Online

She turned away, shaken by the way he still stared at her and her own urge to lay hands on him.
    “I must go. Thank you.” She turned and hurried toward the end of the hall.
    She was crossing the courtyard when she heard his swift steps behind her. “Where are you going? The gatehouse is that way.”
    “I know, but I left my things outside the postern door.”
    He did not reply to that but stayed beside her, so she could only conclude he meant to make certain she did leave. But once outside the door, a guard closed and bolted it behind them both. Rose held her bundle in her arms and frowned up at Dumhnull.
    “You are unlike any groom I’ve ever known.”
    “Have you known a great many?”
    “I’m a healer, remember? Grooms have a nasty habit of getting kicked and stepped on and sometimes even bitten by their charges.”
    “Ah,” he said, and she thought she detected a hint of a smile. He took her bundle from her and began to walk. The berm was wide enough for two, so Rose fell into step beside him.
    “I suppose I don’t seem like a groom because…I’m not really one.”
    She looked at him cautiously, putting more space between them. “You’re not?”
    He lifted a shoulder. “I am…sometimes. I’m related to Strathwick…and we’re friends.”
    “Oh,” Rose breathed, nodding. “I knew there was something more there. You don’t have the… presence of a servant. So you’re not in terrible trouble.” She looked up at him. “I’m glad.”
    He looked away, his mouth a stern, hard line. Did this man ever smile? She studied him as they walked. He kept the pace sedate, unlike when he’d led her through the castle. She inhaled the scent of rain and earth, strong after the storm. They walked for several minutes in silence but for the muted sound of their footsteps and a distant dripping. His presence calmed and comforted her. Was he a bastard son? She saw the resemblance to the MacKay chief in the black hair, the eyes, the fine, strong bones of his face, but the resemblance ended there. Dumhnull was clearly older, but it was more than silvered hair. It was something about him, world-weary and wise. Something that drew her dangerously.
    “Why do you keep trying to help me, Dumhnull?”
    He shook his head, seemingly perplexed by his own actions. “I know not.”
    Rose thought she knew but didn’t offer up her opinions. Though she’d only met the groom the night before, she’d liked him immediately, and a bit more than was wise for a woman betrothed. Not only that, but he was a groom, and a bastard if she read his meaning correctly, and she thought she did. A hopeless attraction, nevertheless strong and undeniable. She’d indulged in such a doomed affair once before, and had learned her lesson; there would be no repeat of that folly here.
    He stopped at the bridge, staring out at the gray, misty morning and the villagers emerging from their cottages.
    “I can take you no further.” He did not hand over her bundle.
    She looked up at him expectantly. It seemed as if he couldn’t look at her. He stared hard at the village with penetrating blue eyes that seemed to pierce the stone cottage walls and see the inhabitants within.
    “I’m sorry you came all this way for naught,” he said.
    She shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”
    He exhaled impatiently, looking skyward for a moment. “I feel as if I should have been able to do more.”
    Rose placed her hand on his arm, drawing his gaze to her. “I always feel that way. That’s why I’m here. All for naught it seems. Wasted time away from my father when his time is so short.” She sighed. “But I don’t suppose I would have done anything different had Lord Strathwick written back and said no. For some reason I felt that if I could just speak to him he would say aye. But he’s not the man I thought he’d be—or hoped he’d be. But I had to know, and now I do.”
    He stared down at her, his beautiful gaze moving over her upturned face.