The Warrior Bride by Lois Greiman Read Free Book Online Page A

neck.
    Hunter turned and he was there, larger than life, his dark eyes gleaming. She raised a hand to straighten his forelock, and Knight pushed his head forward. Resting his jaw on her shoulder he breathed, loud as a bellows into her ear. She stroked his wide brow and felt her knees begin to buckle.
    “Damn!” MacGowan swore and, reaching up, dragged the horse’s head from her shoulder. “Mount up.”
    “What- ”
    “Get up there,” he said and pushing her toward the saddle, tugged Knight’s head forward. “Unless you’re planning to carry him.”
    The ride to Jedburgh was not as far as the brigand had suggested. Neither was it a comfortable one. Nevertheless, Hunter survived the journey and managed to dismount in the gathering darkness without assistance.
    “We are in need of lodging.” MacGowan’s voice was clear enough as he spoke to the innkeeper, so apparently she was still lucid. “For me companion and meself.”
    The proprietor had seen ninety years if he’d seen a day, and each one seemed to weigh as heavily as sand upon his stooped shoulders. “What is it that troubles you?” he asked, and glared askance into Hunter’s face.
    ”There is naught amiss,” she said, and straightened with an effort.
    “You’re as pale as oyster broth. Are you ill?”
    “Nay. Merely weary,” Hunter said and, moving carefully, pulled her cape more firmly over her shoulder.
    “We want no trouble here,” warned the innkeeper.
    “I’ve enough problems what with naught but a simpleton and a doxy to lighten me load.”
    “I am well, old gaffer,” she said, employing her gruffest tone. “Will you house us or nay?”
    He squinted at her for a moment, then nodded stiffly.
    “Aye. Don’t get your comb up, young cock, I’ve a room for you.”
    “We’ll need two,” she said, but he glared up at her with new ferocity. “What’s that?”
    “We’ll need two rooms,” she said, her voice hard. “Well, I’ve got but one to spare. You’ll take it or you’ll not. Which will it be?”
    “I- ” she began, but Lachlan interrupted her.
    “We’ll take it,” he said and reaching out, tugged Knight’s reins from her hand. “I’ll see to the steeds.”
    “Nay,” she argued, and yanked the reins back. “I’ll care for me own mount.”
    “You need rest,” Lachlan gritted.
    “You rest, MacGowan, I’ve no need for your-” she began, but he nudged her slightly. She glared down at his elbow, then looked in the direction he was staring.
    The old man stared back. “What’s wrong with the two of ye?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” Hunter said, drawing herself up again. The ancient innkeeper snorted. “You act like a pair of dolts.”
    “Listen, old man-”
    “Me apologies,” Lachlan interrupted again, and taking Hunter’s arm, steered her toward the stables. “We are but weary. We’ll see to our steeds and find our rooms short-”
    “Room!” the old man corrected, then turned to shuffled toward the wattle and daub inn that listed wearily over the partially cobbled street. ”And I’ll have me monies in advance or you’ll be sleeping with the beasties.”
    “What the devil is wrong with you?” hissed MacGowan.
    “Me?” She yanked her elbow from his grasp and though she regretted the movement, she kept her pain to herself. “There is naught amiss with the likes of me.”
    “You’ve been wounded, if you disremember.”
    “I am well.”
    “You’ve been wounded,” he repeated, “and you need a leech to see to your troubles.”
    “Nay, I do not,” she said and leading Knight into a wide, loose stall, she turned him about and loosened his girth. Removing his saddle was trickier. She grimaced and Lachlan was beside her in an instant, pushing her away as he lifted the gear from her stallion’s back.
    “The old man is right,” he said and tossed the bridle atop her saddle blanket. It was scarlet in color and made of fine wool. Long ago she’d abandoned the blankets woven of straw, for they