The Princess and the Huntsman by Patricia Green Read Free Book Online Page A

this for a moment, but decided ‘twas still not appropriate. “No, Tom. I think it is best do you sit on the floor.”
    His bright expression dimmed, but he turned away and sat near the hearth. “You are a hard one, Princess,” he said. “But your wish is my command.”
    “And well it should be,” she said, though she felt rather foolish over the entire affair. He had done her a great service and the repayment was poor at best. She stuck the knife in the succulent pheasant and cut off a bite, savoring every sense as she put it in her mouth. Tom watched her, not eating, as he sat at the hearth. Brandywyn had second thoughts. “Tom, I have reconsidered. You may attend me at table. You may cut my meat.”
    Again, his mouth tilted with a grin. “Aye. I shall be most honored. Shall I sit with you as I do so?”
    It was inappropriate in the extreme, but who was here to know it? She eyed him for a moment. “Aye. You may.”
    He picked up his bowl and took a seat across the table from her. Whereas she sat in a proper, sturdy chair, he sat on a three-legged stool. It looked a bit rickety, but serviceable. Brandywyn nodded at her bowl, and Tom pulled it toward himself, cutting her fowl into bite-sized morsels efficiently.
    As she ate, Brandywyn queried her savior. “How come you to be here, Tom Huntsman?”
    He shrugged, but answered. “I was a lad in the village—there is one about a mile from here—and as I grew, I found I had a talent for hunting. My desire to live in the village, however, was tainted by my love for a lovely maiden who chose another for her groom.” He appeared focused on his food for a moment. “I built this cottage and now I supply game to the villagers in exchange for vegetables and other necessaries.”
    So, he was an honest huntsman, unpretentious, humble. Brandywyn finished her meal and sat for a bit longer. “How far are we from the palace grounds?”
    “Many miles, sweeting… I mean, Princess.”
    She frowned at his slip of the tongue. “Then I had best be off.” Deciding to leave his familiarity be, she moved toward the door to go back to the stream and retrieve the only clothes she had.
    “It is full dark, Highness. ‘Twould be better should you stay here for the night and start off in the daylight.”
    It was true, no light but moonlight spilled in through the windows. A cool breeze through them made her nipples tight. It would be very bad form for her to spend the night in this stranger’s home, unchaperoned. But what choice was there? She had not even a cloak—Smith had made off with it. “Well…”
    “I insist. The bed is big enough for two and I shall do you no harm.”
    Her gasp was immediate, though her nipples tingled again. “Absolutely not! Do I stay, you will sleep ‘pon the floor. We cannot share a bed.”
    His look shuttered. It was the first time she had seen him anything but open. “You do ask much of a fellow, Princess.”
    “I command what is my right. Do you doubt me?”
    “In fact… Aye, I do.”
    “How dare you!”
    “I dared to save you from those scoundrels. I dared to feed you and give you rest,” he pointed out.
    “Those are my due. I am your ruler.”
    He muttered something she could not hear. “Very well. Take the bed and I the floor. I do insist on having a blanket, however.”
    She nodded. “I shall be gracious, in this case, owing to your service of me to this point.”
    He made a bow, but Brandywyn felt it mocked her. “Gramercy, Highness.”
    Tom extinguished the light after she had curled herself up in the blankets on his bed, and naught but moonlight intruded into the peace and safety of his home.
     
    * * *
     
    “Kill it! Oh! It bit me! Kill it!” Brandywyn was beside herself. An insect had made a meal of her as she slept.
    Tom sat up with a start. It was still dark in the cottage, but Brandywyn could see him clearly. He wore his same clothes, though loosened and without his boots.
    “Brandywyn? What?”
    “A ravening creature