The McKinnon by Ranay James Read Free Book Online Page A

would protect anything he felt worthy of his efforts. Did he now consider her worthy?
    “Yes, Morgan, you will eat,” he commanded softly. “You promised to follow my instructions back at the old Roman wall. Did you not?”
    Nic waited for her to acknowledge his question.
    She nodded. She did agree at the time and felt certain it was still a smart move. After all, he did manage to get them safely away from the search party.
    “I’m your Overlord, now, and you will not disobey me in any action which is to your greater good.” Nic waited for Morgan to take the food.
    But she was rooted to the spot. Nic stood.
    Oh, boy, she thought understanding that she had crossed some imaginary line with him.
    “Eat, Morgan.” His voice had dropped to a rough whisper.
    He had succeeded in shaking her to depths far greater than her uncle had ever done with his rafter-raising tirades. He took a step forward. Morgan stood her ground, straightened her back, and held her head high before taking the food he offered. And after her meager display of bravado, she also made for a little safer distance from him. 
    As she ate, she took the opportunity to pilfer a look at Nic and found him distant and deep in thought. She wondered what a man like him gave his mental energies to?
    Women? Maybe, but not in this instance.
    Gambling? Probably not.
    Hanging his enemies from the tallest tree? Now, that she would believe.
    In reality, Nic was mulling over his problem of having a skittish runaway bride with a large search party in hard pursuit. Nic knew the day had gone downhill quickly. The only plus was she was eating. That certainly could not hurt her, considering she was skinny as a bean pole.
    Morgan’s mind was also racing. She did not know this man. What if he sought out the search party and turned her over to them? She was certain her uncle would pay dearly to have her returned. But she shook the thought away. He could have done that already.
    What sort of man was he, she wondered.
    Could her uncle bribe him? No, she felt not.
    Still, he was worth watching. Every man was worth watching. Nic was no exception.
    She took this opportunity to take a closer look at him physically. He was tall by modern standards and broad through the shoulders. Her father had been a tall man. However, her father's coloring had been light blonde to Nic’s dark good looks. Her mother had told her once that her father was a descendant of the Vikings. Those marauders of the island eventually settled, assimilating into the local culture. She would be very surprised if Nic did not have some Viking ancestry in his linage. Men of his stature certainly did not come along every day.
    Nic’s size did not intimidate her in the least. His height made her feel protected and safe, much as when her father was alive. It was a feeling that Morgan had long ago forgotten and realized she missed. Nonetheless, she would experience this feeling from a distance, but not up close.
    From an artist's perspective his proportions were perfect and beautifully pulled together. Nature got it right where this one was concerned, and she would love to do a charcoal  rendering of him on his equally magnificent horse. Morgan doubted that she would get him to sit still long enough to accomplish much more than a rough sketch. 
    His arms and legs were long and well-muscled from the years of fighting and training. It stood to reason that his shoulders would be muscled, toned, and cut. Upper body strength was necessary for any warrior. It was a given. Hauling sixty-five pounds of armor around on one's body and being able to move in it like it was a second skin would require body development out of sheer necessity.
    There was not an extra ounce of fat on him. 
    His hands were large and tan. He had long fingers with clean nails that were free of the grime most fighting men sported. She knew Nic could kill her with one blow if he decided to. However, he did not strike her as a man who would use brute