Blood Ties Read Online Free PDF Page A

breasts. She knew that look, too. It wasn’t desire, but lust, and took no account of what she thought or felt. Men who looked at you like that never met your eyes.
    “Why not come down and talk?” He held out his hand invitingly.
    “No, thank you.”
    He looked at her face then and she saw him register her black hair and eyes, saw the contempt in his face. She could see it made him angrier that a Traveler was resisting him. He drew himself up in the saddle, puffed out his chest like a ten-year-old boy trying to impress. She nearly laughed, but he was no less dangerous for that.
    “Stop playing games, missy. You know why I’m here. Give me the wolf skin and I’ll forget about your stealing it from me.”
    “If you’ve got a claim on something of mine you can take it to the village voice and he’ll settle the dispute,” Bramble said.
    A voice was elected by each village and made decisions in disputes between villagers, as well as representing them in dealings with the warlord. The warlord’s men never showed much respect to them. She didn’t think the man would like to submit to the voice’s ruling, but it was worth a try. The roan was fidgeting, ears back; Bramble could see it getting nervous as the man grew impatient. She refused to let her own nerves take over. It was better to be annoyed than afraid.
    “We don’t ask favors of villagers,” he said with derision. “Where did you get it?”
    “From a wolf.”
    “From
my
wolf.” He swept a black-fletched arrow out of the quiver at his back and shook it at her. “It had a black arrow in it, didn’t it, when you found it?” He shot the arrow back into the quiver with a thump that made the roan flinch. Bramble felt a quick surge of fellow feeling for it. “You found the carcass and skinned it . . . well, there’s no harm in that. But it’s my skin and I want it.”
    “Did you kill the wolf?” she asked quietly.
    He hesitated. “I shot it.”
    “But
I
killed it. If you won’t go to the village voice, perhaps the warlord should decide it?”
    He didn’t like that idea, having to admit to his overlord that he’d failed to finish off the wolf. The roan jumped as he put in the spurs. It took a step forward, only to be reined in hard.
    “Just give it here or you’ll be sorry.” He loosened his sword in his scabbard deliberately.
    Her toes gripped the bark firmly. She was suddenly angry past common sense or reason at his arrogance. It was typical of the warlord’s men, of all the men who carried sword and shield. Typical that he hadn’t followed the wolf and finished him off, as any compassionate hunter would do. That wolf had looked at her with pleading in its eyes, and she knew enough of animals to know when it was for help, and when it was for a quick end to pain. She had done this man’s job for him, and she would keep the results.
    “I think I’d rather go to the warlord.”
    It had been a mistake to stand up. She saw him looking up at her legs, bare under her skirt. Her stomach turned over with revulsion at the thought of him touching her and there was a flutter of panic beneath her breastbone. She pushed it down. Men like him lived for the fear in others.
    The intention to hurt was in his eyes and in the hands hard on the reins, but he hesitated. The warlord allowed his men great license, but there were limits. He couldn’t just beat her and take the skin. She might go to the warlord and say that she had been happy to accept his judgment on the matter. If the blond just took things into his own hands, he knew he’d be in trouble. The roan snorted and backed away a little. He curbed it savagely but otherwise ignored it. She could see the thoughts move behind his eyes, saw him looking for a way to discredit her before the warlord. It chilled her.
    “Black hair and black eyes,” he sneered. “You’re a Traveler wench, aren’t you? Is it true what they say, that you’ll go with anyone?”
    “No.” Her voice was as cold and firm as