Once a Warrior by Karyn Monk Read Free Book Online Page B

proceeded to give the Black Wolf a good trim. Once she had combed out the tangles and removed a ragged length, his dark-brown hair began to wave as it spilled over his shoulders. He endured her ministrations in hostile silence. Taking courage from his cooperation, however unwilling, she quickly plaited a small lock on one side. Then she wrapped a fresh bandage around his injured arm and declared herself finished.
    “Then do Gavin and let us be off,” said Malcolm, reaching for his shirt.
    Ariella gazed in disgust at the filthy, worn garment crumpled in his hand. “Don’t you have anything better to wear?”
    “When we set out to find you, I did not anticipate needing a fine outfit,” he drawled.
    “But I did.” Gavin went to his horse and withdrew some garments and a pair of boots from his saddlebag. “Here.”
    Malcolm stared at the clothes in astonishment. They were from his own wardrobe when he had been Laird MacFane. After being cast out, he had abandoned his belongings, even though Harold had generously told him to take whatever he needed. Evidently Gavin had been more prudent. But why had he brought this outfit, Malcolm wondered, when they had planned only to make sure the MacKendricks were all right and then return home that same night?
    “A pity you didn’t think to pack more wine for the journey as well,” he commented acidly.
    Gavin shrugged. “There wasn’t enough room.”
    Malcolm scowled and dropped his plaid.
    Cheeks flaming, Ariella turned away. “If you come over here, Gavin, I will trim your hair for you.”
    She took her time with the task, wanting to be sure Malcolm was dressed before she looked again. After packing her scissors and comb in her bag, she cautiously turned.
    The stranger standing before her bore no resemblance to the filthy, drunken hermit she had met four days earlier. This man was truly splendid in his saffron shirt, leather jerkin, and magnificent plaid of brown, green, and black, which was pinned to his shoulder with an old, battered brooch. A strong belt strapped his sword to his waist, and new deerskin boots were laced up his calves. He regarded her calmly, his blue eyes clear and faintly taunting. Everything about him spoke of power and confidence, the stance of a man who knows he has strength and is ready to wield it. This was the Black Wolf her father and Alpin had spoken of. This was the warrior who led an army of a thousand, who performed deeds of unparalleled bravery, and who emerged unscathed and victorious from virtually every battle.
    It was an illusion, she reminded herself bitterly. He was a drunk, and under those clothes he was slashed with scars, and if he took a few steps, he would betray the weakness of his back and leg. But in this moment, with the sun shining warmly upon him, she found herself captivated by the glorious figure he presented.
    “Well? Do I finally meet with your approval?” he demanded sullenly.
    She turned, suddenly aware of her own filthy clothes, her tangled hair, and her grimy skin. Because of him she had no choice but to look this way. Because of him her home had been attacked, and she was no longer free to be Ariella MacKendrick.
    “You’ll do,” she snapped, mounting her horse. “Let us be off.”
    She dug her heels into Shena’s sides and galloped away, feeling a need to have distance from him, lest her hatred surface and drive him back to where she had found him.
                      
    It was nearly dusk when they reached the MacKendrick border. Warm anticipation swelled within her as Ariella neared her lands. She had never been away from her clan before, and on this journey she had been gone nine endless days. Her desire to see her home made her race ahead of the others, seeking solitude as she caught the first view of her beloved castle and the cheerful cottages surrounding it.
    She saw the bodies first.
    They were lying in the low grasses that grew in the meadow beside the woods. She would have missed them,