Blessing The Highlander Read Online Free PDF

Garrick leapt from the saddle running to the still figure to examine it for life.
                 Behind him, his men were busy dispatching the remainder of the pack. He sprawled on his knees as a second wolf plowed into him snarling and snapping his strong jaws. Having lost his sword, Garrick rolled over drawing a dirk from his boot just afore the beast was on him again, straining to rip out his throat. He clamped his hand under the wolf’s jaw as he thrust upward with his dirk stabbing it in the chest. The wolf yelped rolling off of him and Garrick speedily slit its throat.
                 He rested on his hands and knees for a moment drawing in great gulps of air. That was too close . I have never seen such resolve before. They were too brazen. As Garrick’s heart slowed to a sounder beat and his breathing steadied he glanced at the still form a few feet away. His mouth fell open as he forgot to breathe altogether. Stunning! That was his only thought as he gaped at the striking woman before him.
                 She was the most beautiful lass he had ever seen. Her face was heart-shaped with high cheekbones and thin dark brows arching at the outer edges. Her small pert nose had the slightest upturn at the tip above the sensuous rosy lips. Her eyes were exotically raised at the ends. All of this perfection was surrounded by lightly bronzed skin and crowned with glorious light auburn hair. For a moment, all he could do was drink in the sight of her… feasting on her beauty.
                 That is when he detected the pool of blood beneath her head. He shook off his stupor and quickly determined that she was still breathing. He ran his hands gently along her limbs and ribs, checking for broken bones or swelling. He could not seem to stop himself from tenderly brushing his fingertips over her full breasts. That is when he found the parchment tucked inside. Garrick shoved it into his sporran for reading later and ran his hands behind her neck and down her spine.
                 Satisfied with his examination of her, he rotated her over toward him placing her head on his powerful thigh to have a nearer look at her injury.
                 She did not make a sound as he prodded the lump the size of a hen’s egg on her temple.
                 “Angus, we will make camp here. Build a fire and make a pallet close by. Get me spare plaid ta cover her,” he added as he perceived the rents in her gown, “and me undertunic.”
                 His men set about following his commands as he assessed the cut of her clothing. They suggested that she was highborn but not excessively wealthy...a chief’s daughter perhaps. But what was she doing on Brodie land? He shook his head. Taking his dirk, he cut a strip of cloth from his tunic wetting it in the burn and began wiping the blood and mud from her face. The bleeding had ceased.  He was wrapping a loose binding on her head when Angus approached him with the tunic.
                 He sucked in his breath when he saw her. “Jesu! What a feast for the eyes this lass be! Do ye ken who she be?”
                 “Nae. I do nae ken her but I would like to. Help me with the tunic so I can move her.” Once she was settled on the pallet Garrick examined the trappings on her steed.
                 “There be nae help there, Laird. I saw naught that revealed her clan colors. Mayhap when she wakes she can tell us.” Angus shook his head. “If the lass wakes atoll. Her breathing is nae good. Tis scarcely a breath she takes. And she is excessively still...nae a flicker of movement or sound.”
                 Garrick nodded to himself. He was disturbed with her motionlessness, too. He had seen enough injuries like this one to know that it was not a normal sleep and some never woke again. He prayed that this was not this lass’s destiny.
                 He walked back to the