Rebellion & In From The Cold by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

throat, murmuring, threatening, coaxing all the while. He was shivering, though his skin was like fire to the touch.
    She no longer questioned Brigham’s presence, and she said nothing when he stripped off his coat and tucked back the lace at his wrists. Together they bathed Coll with cool water, forced more of Gwen’s mixture past his dry lips and kept watch.
    During Coll’s delirium Serena spoke to him mainly in Gaelic, as calm and steady as a seasoned soldier. Brigham found it strange to see her so unruffled when from almost the first moment of their acquaintance she had been animated by excitement or fury. Now, in the deepest part of the night, her hands were gentle, her voice quiet, her movements competent They worked together as though they’d spent their lives doing so.
    She no longer resented his assistance. English or not, he obviously cared for her brother. Without his aid she would have been forced to summon her sister or her mother. For a few hours, Serena forced herself to forget that Lord Ashburn represented all she despised.
    Now and then, over the cloth or the cup, their hands brushed. Both of them strove to ignore even this minor intimacy. He might have been concerned for Coll, but he was still an English nobleman. She might have had more spine than any other women he’d known, but she was still a Scots terror.
    The truce lasted while Coll’s fever raged. By the time the light turned gray with approaching dawn, the crisis had passed.
    “He’s cool.” Serena blinked back tears as she stroked her brother’s brow. Silly to weep now, she thought, when the worst was over. “I think he’ll do, but Gwen will have a look at him.”
    “He should sleep well enough.” Brigham pressed a hand to the small of his back, where a dull ache lodged. The fire they had taken turns feeding during the night still roared at his back, shooting light and heat. He had loosened his shirt for comfort and a smoothly muscled chest could be seen in the deep V. Serena wiped her own brow and tried not to notice.
    “It’s almost morning.” She felt weak and weepy and tired to the bone.
    “Yes.” Brigham’s mind had shifted suddenly, completely, from the man in the bed to the woman by the window. The first hints of dawn were behind her, and she stood in shadow and in light. Her night robe cloaked her as if she were royalty. Her face, pale with fatigue, was dominated by eyes that seemed only larger, darker, more mysterious, for the faint bruises beneath.
    Her blood began to tingle below her skin as he continued to stare at her. She wished he would stop. It made her feel … powerless somehow. Suddenly afraid, she tore her gaze from his and looked at her brother.
    “There’s no need for you to stay now.”
    “No.”
    She turned her back. Brigham took it as a dismissal. He gave her an ironic bow she couldn’t see, but stopped when he heard the sniffle. He paused at the door. Then, dragging a hand through his hair and swearing, he moved toward her.
    “No need for tears now, Serena.”
    Hurriedly she wiped at her cheek with her knuckles. “I thought he would die. I didn’t realize how afraid I was of it until it was past.” She swiped a hand over her face again. “I’ve lost my handkerchief,” she said miserably.
    Brigham pressed his own into her hand.
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome,” he managed when she handed it back to him crumpled and damp. “Better now?”
    “Aye.” She let out a long, steadying breath. “I wish you would go.”
    “Where?” Though he knew it was unwise, he turned her to face him. He only wanted to see her eyes again. “To my bed or to the devil?”
    Her lips curved, surprising them both. “As you choose, my lord.”
    He wanted those lips. The knowledge stunned him as much as her smile did. He wanted them warm and open and completely willing under his own. Light broke through the sky and tumbled like gold dust through the window. Before either of them were prepared, he reached out