An Original Sin Read Online Free PDF Page A

Fortune. Put on what I brought ye.”
    He glanced around. A weapon. He wouldn’t leave without some means of protecting them from whatever dangers lay beyond this room. Striding to the small table beside the bed, he studied the object that rested there—it had a solid, squarish base with numbers on it, with a smaller piece cradled on top. The top was connected to the base by a curled cord. It would have to do.
    Lifting the cradled piece, he almost dropped it when it buzzed at him. With a jerk, he yanked the cord loose from the base. Satisfied, he wrapped the end of the cord around his hand.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    He turned to face Fortune’s outraged tone.
    “We must have a weapon. ’Tis the best I can find.” He swung his newly made weapon to demonstrate its possibilities.
    She ducked even though he came nowhere near her. “I don’t believe you. There’s never an excuse for violence. Any disagreement can be solved with reasonable discussion.”
    Amazed, he stared at her. “Ye’re a fool, woman.”
    “And you’re a savage.”
    She looked a little uncertain about her insult, and well she should. He’d beaten men senseless for less. But how could he deny the truth? In her eyes he must seem both primitive and savage. “Aye. Now dress yerself.” He headed for the door.
    He’d opened it, then stepped into the hall before he realized she hadn’t moved. He turned to find her still planted in the center of the room, feet spread and arms crossed defiantly.
    “This woman’s not moving, primitive person.”
    He silently groaned. Would his punishment never end? What had he done during his life to deserve this woman? It had to be more than just his wish to send a few Mac-Donalds to hell. His last raid? Maybe. He’d relieved several clergymen of their worldly goods—helping them live up to their vows of poverty. No . More likely it was the willing women he’d taken. He savored the memories. There’d been a lot of women in his life, all willing.
    “Come wi’ me, lass, so I can protect ye from danger. Ye need a strong man to fight for ye. Trust me.” He smiled the smile that had convinced Mary McDougal a heated night spent in his arms was worth the loss of her questionable virginity.
    Fortune looked him up. She looked him down. She sniffed her disdain. “Not only primitive, but violent. The only danger I see is standing in front of me. Any problem I meet, I’ll solve in a civilized way—calmly, logically.”
    He should leave her. The temptation called to him, but he’d sworn on his mother’s grave never to desert a helplesswoman, and Fortune was helpless, with her fantasies of a world with no wickedness or violence. He might know nothing about this time, but he knew human nature. Men had laughed and raised drinks to each other before the blood flowed at Glencoe. The possibility of violence lurked in even the most peaceful setting.
    “A peeping chick in a forest of hungry wolves,” he muttered. Resigned, he returned to her side. “Why would ye stay here?”
    She stared at him as though he were mad. “I don’t know how this horrible thing happened, but it happened in this room and this is where I’ll stay until someone sends me home.”
    A troublesome woman. A vexing combination of defiance and stubbornness with the body of an angel. He narrowed his gaze. The body of an angel with tousled hair the color of the vixen whose den he’d found last week, and eyes like a cloudless sky. The devil could at least have provided him with a shriveled crone, one who wouldn’t torment him with her attractions.
    He’d try reason, although it was a strategy that often proved useless with women. “Ye canna stay in this room. Ye heard the woman say others would soon arrive. Besides, what if ye ne’er return home?”
    “Never go home?” Her horrified expression mirrored his own feelings.
    Home . He pushed aside thoughts of Hugh, of Glencoe. He couldn’t allow them to sour his memories. Home was the