Only For A Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

propitious moment.
     
At the thought, Robbie paused in his circular rubbing of the maid’s back, a quick stab of guilt piercing straight to his conscience. Many were they who’d claim his encounter with the fiery beauty anything but propitious.
     
Vowing to hush any such tongue-clacking should the like arise, he compressed his lips until the moment passed, then resumed kneading the cold, smooth shoulders pressed so close against his heart.
     
“Fear not, lass, I will let naught befall you,” he murmured against her hair. “No matter who you are or what troubles follow you. Just waken, you fine braw lassie, and I promise all will be well. . . .”
     
All will be well.
     
Ne’er forget you are a fine braw lassie . . . naught will befall you while I am away.
     
I promise. . . .
     
The familiar words slid past Juliana’s ear, softly spoken but strong enough to penetrate the cold darkness pressing all around her, powerful enough in their dimly remembered assurances to echo in her mind with the same throbbing insistence of the pain pulsing in her forehead.
     
But then the voice faded, leaving only a dull ache and blackness. That, and a sweet, all-enveloping warmth that cushioned her from the little nigglings of dread licking at her from the whirling shadows.
     
Dread, and a maddeningly elusive sense of . . .
     
purpose.
     
Something she must do.
     
If only she could remember.
     
Or stop the red-hammering agony in her head.
     
“Come you, lass. Open your eyes,” the man spoke again, his voice still close by her ear yet louder this time, more clear. And laced with a definite tinge of concern.
     
Deep inside Juliana, a part of her still hazed and sleeping reached toward him, yearned to soothe his worry. All the saints knew, he bore a heavy enough weight upon his shoulders without her adding to his burden.
     
And he’d spoken naught but the truth. She’d always fared well during his absences for she was indeed strong—steely-backed, he’d often declared in jest, his dark blue eyes twinkling when he teased her.
     
But much as she wished to reassure him, her lips wouldn’t form the words.
     
Truth be told, she couldn’t move at all.
     
Not until he touched probing fingers to her forehead and a lancing pain such as she’d never known streaked clear to her toes.
     
“Eeeeeeeee . . . ow!” she cried, jerking violently in his arms.
     
Arms that had only ever held her in loving, joyous reunion or sad, parting embraces—till now.
     
She blinked, peered through stinging eyes at the beloved face. But billowing red-tinged fog still swirled all around her, blurring the edges of everything and even making the familiar features appear somehow different.
     
She just couldn’t say what was different.
     
“Whate’er have you done to me?” She pulled back from his tight embrace, fixed all her confusion on the concern-filled eyes watching her so strangely.
     
“My head—” She raised trembling fingers to her forehead, felt the tenderness and pain, the warm stickiness of congealing blood. “I am bleeding,” she stammered, more startled than anything. “What hap—”
     
“Hush, sweeting, dinna you fret,” he soothed, brushing his cheek so closely against hers she would have sworn he kissed the tip of her nose.
     
Something he always did when he meant to tease or comfort her.
     
At the remembrance, the sweet golden warmth of familiarity swept through her again and she leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his broad, naked shoulders.
     
Naked shoulders?
     
A tremor of . . . something . . . skittered down Juliana’s equally unclothed spine but the throbbing in her head wouldn’t let her make sense of what bothered her.
     
What was so different and . . . wrong.
     
So she gave herself defeated and sank back into the cushioning warmth, nestling her head against the welcome strength of his shoulder. Whate’er plagued her, he’d fix it. He always did, e’er knowing her very thoughts before they even left her lips.
     
They