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

bathed and washed her hair, which had dried in thick, chestnut waves that shone in the firelight like silk. He couldn’t look full at her. It hurt too much. She was too beautiful. Too precious.
    Even more precious now that he understood just who she was. Anya was so much more than he’d first assumed.
    His mind went back many years, to when he’d been little more than a pup and King Magnus had been newly crowned.
    He followed his sire into the pub in Figcroft feeling like a man, carrying his very own axe and standing as tall as any other in the place, taller even than some.
    His sire thumped him on the back while he addressed the barkeep. “A full draught for my son, and another for me. Your reward for a hard day’s work,” he said to Riggs.
    The barkeep slid two tankards their way. “Heard about the king’s latest scandal? News just come from Chroina by way of a traveler last night.”
    His sire lifted the tankard to take a sip, eyeing the barkeep coolly.
    Riggs mirrored him, sucking down the foamy beer. Behind them were the sounds of men conversing at the tables. A boy sang with the voice of a lark and strummed a lute by the fire.
    Licking his lips and setting the drink down, his sire said, “I prefer to get my news from the messengers who bring the monthly reports.”
    The barkeep made a dismissive noise. “A little gossip keeps things interesting, don’t it?”
    His sire’s friend, Vorish, appeared at their backs, dropping a token onto the bar. “Usual,” he said to the barkeep. Then he greeted Riggs and his sire with slaps on their shoulders. “Let Rolf have his fun. He only feels important when he’s got rumors to distribute.”
    “He’d do better to distribute booze,” his sire grumbled, but he did so with a grin.
    Rolf pushed out his lower lip, pretending offense, but his eyes gleamed with whatever news he couldn’t wait to share. Leaning over the bar, as if the news were for their ears only, he scratched his beard and said, “Apparently, Glerick’s finished the portrait the king commissioned. His Majesty unveiled it two nights ago at a big to-do at the palace. Get this. When the curtain parts to reveal the long-awaited portrait, the ladies and gentlemen gathered in the great hall gasp as one. The subject, it’s not Himself, as tradition holds. It’s a lady.” Rolf’s eyes went wide. He looked between the three of them, waiting for a reaction.
    Riggs failed to see how this was interesting. Everyone knew King Magnus honored the ladies. It was probably a portrait of Diana or something. He drank some more and turned his attention to the boy, wondering how close they were in age and who his mother might be.
    He caught snippets of the conversation at the bar, but was trying to listen to the boy’s lyrics. He sang about a world where women ruled and men fought each other to the death for the right to breed with their queen. Riggs lost himself in the fantasy, imagining himself a full-grown warrior, wielding a battle axe, wearing a breastplate and armor on his arms and legs, winning exclusive breeding rights to his queen.
    “But not just any lady, I heard,” Vorish said.
    “A dark-haired beauty,” Rolf piped in. “Visited the king’s dreams the night of his coronation, I heard.”
    Riggs’s ears perked up. His mother had dark hair, like him. And she was lovely enough to dream about.
    “Not overly dark,” Vorish said. “The color of roasted chestnuts. If you’re going to gossip, be specific, man.”
    Not Hilda then. Riggs tried to return to his fantasy. His queen welcomed him into her bedchamber. She waited for him on her bed of fine furs, naked and glorious.
    “Yes, yes. Chestnut hair,” Rolf was saying. “But that’s hardly as notable as the fact her breasts were hairless. Pink little nipples in the center of smooth ivory orbs, like twin moons.”
    Riggs abandoned the fantasy. Hairless breasts deserved his undivided attention. He turned back to the bar to find Rolf cupping his hands