The Wife Test by Betina Krahn Read Free Book Online

thud, and Hugh staggered but managed to remain upright, bracing on his thighs to gulp air.
    The sudden stillness was just as disorienting as the sudden violence had been. As his breathing returned to normal, he sheathed his blade and turned back to check his men and see to his charges. There had been no casualties on their side, and the maidens were still here. As his men watched anxiously, he helped the young women to their feet and handed them off to Graham. Four … only four?
    He knew instantly which one was missing. The bold and presumptuous one … the brazen and audacious chit who always … He spotted a lump of faded black in the tall grass not far away.
    Chloe of Guibray lay in a crumpled heap. He dropped to his knees, rolled her over, and gathered her unwieldy but thankfully not-dead weight into his arms. The bastards had struck her; she had a red mark on one cheek, just below a lush crescent of dark lashes.
    “Sister …” He gave her uninjured cheek an awkward pat. “Chloe of Guibray.” Alarmed, he gave her a gentle shake. “Can you hear me? Open your eyes.”
    His heart began to beat again as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked and licked her lips as if to speak, but no words came out. Her arm flopped uncooperatively as she tried to reach up to touch her injured cheek.
    A wail went up from one of the others, and immediately he was assailed by hysterical females talking and weeping all at once. They bore down on him and Chloe with outstretched arms, reaching for and demanding reassurance of each other.
    “Stop—you’re going to make me drop—”
    He felt a brief, disorienting tilt and then a jarring thud that was accompanied by squeals. He was suddenly on his back at the bottom of a jumble of limbs and veils and straw-stuffed habits. He froze with a protest trapped in his throat as the scent of women—ripe, lilac-and-linen scented femininity—engulfed him. They were pressed against every living inch of his overheated body and showed no inclination toward vacating that volatile territory.
    “For g-godssake!” he finally sputtered, pushing at something alarmingly small, round, and pillowy. “Get up—get off me!”
    Graham’s ruddy face appeared above him, and the maidens were lifted from him in short order. He pushed up to a sitting position and found a limp, familiar form still draped across his lower body. The injured Sister Chloe came to life, struggled up onto her arms, and raised her head. This time her eyes focused and looked up to meet his. They were big and blue … astoundingly clear … as open and unsullied as an April morning. He experienced a strange sinking sensation … as if he were being drawn into a pool of warm, soothing water …
    After what seemed an eternity, she seemed to realize where she was and scrambled off him, landing on her rear with a thump.
    “Chloe!”
    “Ohhh, look at you!”
    “Are you all right?”
    The other maids crowded around to pull her to her feet, right her veil, and smooth her habit. She collected herself with a deep breath, then brushed aside their concern to confront him. The change in her caught him a bit off guard.
    “Who were those men?” she demanded.
    “B-brigands and thieves,” he answered, struggling to recover his own self-possession. “Exactly the sort of danger I’ve been warning you about.”
    It was a lie, out and out. He had been so concerned about his own men’s wayward impulses that he hadn’t even considered someone else might try to assault them. Lying
and
ineptness in his duty.
More
to confess when he got back to the—
    “Uncommonly good fighters, for common thieves,” Graham mused, breaking into his thoughts.
    The observation jarred together several impressions in Hugh’s mind, and he strode over to where the injured thief lay. He scrutinized the man’s ragged garments and then stooped to brush back a torn flap on his shirt. Beneath it was an expanse of mail. Scowling, he picked up the man’s weapon and then examined