The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) by Jessi Gage Read Free Book Online

Darcy. And his nether regions were comparably awe-inspiring. Years ago, she’d ridiculed Darcy for his size to humiliate him for refusing her offered virginity, but deep down, she’d found him pleasing. Until Riggs, she’d never seen a match to the weapon Darcy carried under his kilt. What would it feel like to have a lover so large, so powerful?
    Och, bloody waste of time, such idle ponderings. She was through with men. No good ever came from bestowing affection upon them, and no decent one would have her the way she was now. Riggs might want her for a tup, but she’d stake her flask he’d leave off with wanting her once he saw her mangled legs. Better not to encourage his affections, or heed her growing affections for him.
    Besides, he wasn’t even human. What he was, she didn’t ken, but she’d be finding out before long.
    In the meantime, she forced her attention back to her surroundings. After all, this might be her new home.
    Though small, Riggs’s home was cozy in a den like way. It contained everything a body needed in an arrangement that pleased her. She could see herself rolling dough on the workbench, which sheltered an assortment of tools and grain sacks. It would require a good cleaning first, since the surface was only slightly less dusty and disheveled than the recess beneath. Mayhap that would be her first project, once she’d slept off her headache. Riggs may not have accepted her offer to do his cooking and cleaning, but if he was going to keep her here, she was bloody well going to make herself useful.
    And if he doesn’t keep you here?
    What if he intended to sell her to the highest bidder? Selling one’s self was one matter. Being sold, without choice or dignity, was another. If Riggs thought to do that to her, she’d snip off his bollocks in his sleep.
    Speaking of sleep, the bed took up most of one wall. As long and wide as Riggs, framed in beveled wood, and piled high with fawn-colored animal skins, it practically begged her to burrow into its soft, warm depths.
    She bathed with the water he’d left her first, and found a linen shirt in one of the two finely-crafted drawers beneath the bed. When she put it on, it draped around her like a sheet. Tying the laces as tight as they would go ensured the garment wouldn’t fall off her shoulders, but she had to roll the sleeves four times to expose her hands. There was nothing to be done about the hem. On him, it would fall to his knees. On her, it reached her ankles like a nightgown. As far as the width of the garment, three of her could have easily fit in the space Riggs normally took up with his upper body alone.
    Refusing to dwell on the excited flutter in her stomach, she turned down his bed and climbed beneath the animal hides. Their weight settled on top of her. Odd, but with Riggs’s scent of pine and loyal, dusty dog surrounded her, she found herself not fashing over returning to Ackergill. In fact, she was curious about Riggs and his world. What was he? Were all the people in this place like him? Could she possibly belong here?
    Sleep beckoned. Her quest ions would wait for the morrow.
    The scent of baking bread woke her. It felt as though mere moments had passed, but morning light peeked from behind the closed shutters. Across the cabin, Riggs crouched near the workbench, stuffing supplies into a large leather sack with more straps and buckles than she’d ken what to do with. He was working quickly, almost hurriedly.
    “Are you going somewhere?” she asked around a yawn.
    He stopped and looked at her. He didn’t answer.
    “Going somewhere?” she repeated.
    His brows pinched until a hard line appeared between them. He rose from his crouch, and his head came nearly to the roof of the cabin. The sight of him before her so large and virile made her toes curl beneath the animal skins.
    He said somat, but she didn’t understand.
    “Pardon?” she said.
    He said it again, this time with a shake of his head. She still couldn’t make