Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) by Michelle Willingham Read Free Book Online

how he had drifted in and out of consciousness. And then, too, it felt so intimate to be here with Cain . . . almost as if they truly were married.
    His long black hair was covering part of his face, and she smoothed it back. Gently, she began unfastening his plaid and shirt, lifting the garments away until she revealed his wounds.
    His back was bleeding and raw, the skin terribly burned. Blisters covered his back, and she strongly suspected he was suffering a fever. Near his shoulders, the skin was an angry red color.
    Margaret found a handkerchief and soaked it in cool water. Then she brought it over and laid it upon his burned skin. He shuddered a moment but didn’t awaken. She couldn’t even imagine the pain he must have endured, suffering in such a way.
    She ran her fingers over the base of his neck, and he stirred slightly. The last time she’d touched him like this was when he’d stolen a kiss. And though men had kissed her hand a time or two, Cain Sinclair’s mouth was the only one she’d ever tasted. He kissed like the Highlander he was, demanding and fierce. She’d never forgotten the recklessness he provoked or the way he’d coaxed her to surrender. A man like him would never court a woman or ask permission to touch her hand. No, he knew just how to steal her senses, how to push away the edges of propriety to reveal a very different woman within.
    Margaret touched his hair, so afraid that she wouldn’t be able to save him. She didn’t want him to suffer or die because of her. Regardless of the past between them, they were friends.
    Or at least, they had been once.
    Within the cottage, she found a wooden cup, and she filled it with water from the bucket. She helped turn him slightly, supporting his head with her arm. Guiding the cup to his lips, she tried to get him to drink. Though his eyes remained closed, his body seemed to instinctively know what she was offering.
    It occurred to her that she would have to cook for both of them. She knew nothing about preparing food, but she supposed she’d have to learn how. They were already in the vicar’s debt, and she didn’t want to see his wife looking down on her as if Margaret were incapable of caring for herself.
    Her stomach was growling, so she decided to find something to eat. She found a bag of oats, unsure of whether they were meant for people or the horses. But perhaps she could make porridge or a gruel from it.
    Surely there couldn’t be much more to it than boiling the grain and water together. She didn’t know how much to use, but she guessed at the amount of oats and poured two handfuls into a pot of water, setting both over the fire to cook. While the water heated, she pulled a stool beside the fire and thought of her sister. Trying to find Amelia was the most impulsive decision she’d ever made. She hadn’t considered that she might not find her or that she might be stranded out here.
    In her heart, she feared that there was no hope for either of them. It had taken nearly three days to reach this place, and she’d had to walk alongside the horse, only stopping for a few hours of sleep. Cain had been barely conscious, unable to get on or off the horse without her help. And now, it was too late to go after Amelia again. Surely by now, her sister had been rescued or ruined. She prayed it was the former.
    Margaret turned back to Sinclair and pulled a stool beside his bed. Gently, she touched his cheek. “I do hope you awaken soon.”
    And she prayed that she could take care of both of them.

    ONE WEEK LATER
    Beatrice’s heart was breaking.
    Although she knew that a wedding was meant to be a day of joy and celebrating, she felt like a brittle shell. Thank the good Lord, her youngest daughter Amelia had been brought back safely.
    But all she could think of was Margaret.
    Why, oh why had her daughter gone off to search for Amelia that night? Why hadn’t she told them the truth and sought their help? Her heart was sick at the thought of Margaret