Sutherland's Secret Read Online Free PDF

wasn’t particularly pleased to be standing here now.
    His wife had loved the color blue. Not Sutherland blue. Oh, no, that would not do for Alisa. It had to be sky blue. Everywhere. His gaze touched on the ornate bed done up with an overabundance of pillows and bed coverings and curtains, to the blue carpet, the blue walls, and finally the woman who was not his wife but would live in this chamber.
    She was on the other side of the room, her shoulders thrown back, her eyes defiant. Even from this distance, he could see the fear that made her tremble.
    He forced himself to enter the room. Lachlan was not happy that Brice had brought the woman home, and Brice could not say he blamed his friend. He’d brought danger to his people, but what else was he to do? Leave her on the side of the road again? That seemed exceptionally cruel.
    He approached her. She cowered, the defiance he’d first seen gone, replaced with a hollow, resigned look.
    “I’ve called for a bath for ye.” He motioned to the large steaming tub as if she hadn’t seen it herself. He felt tongue-tied around her. He wished she would talk. Then he would know how to respond.
    Her gaze flicked to the tub, then quickly back to him. Her breathing was harsh. He was in mind of a trapped animal that knew its time was up. He stopped a few feet from her. She whimpered and crossed her thin arms over her stomach.
    “Who are ye?” he asked again. As usual, she didn’t answer, and it frustrated him to no end. “If ye tell me yer name, I can help ye get back to yer people.”
    Her eyes widened in panic. She looked over his shoulder, at the door behind him, then back at him.
    “Ye do no’ want to go back to yer people?”
    She neither nodded nor shook her head.
    “Christ, woman, how am I to help ye if ye do no’ tell me how?”
    Her bony shoulders shook. She’d lost so much weight that her gown was falling off one shoulder. Her bones were prominent, her skin fragile and pale.
    He took an involuntary step closer. To do what, he didn’t know. Hold her? Comfort her? Warm her? Christ, he was a fool.
    She made a small noise and buried her chin in her chest, hunching over herself as if waiting for a blow. She’d done the same thing the other night. What the hell had happened to her?
    “Look at me,” Brice said softly.
    Slowly she lifted her head and stared at him with such a desolate expression that his heart skipped a beat.
    “Ye have my word that I will no’ hurt ye. I know you do no’ believe me.” He reached into his boot and slowly pulled out a dagger. Her eyes widened, and she pressed her hands into the wall behind her as if she could push her way through the thick stone.
    He held the dagger out to her, hilt first. She stared at the weapon for the longest time before she raised her eyes to him. She had blue eyes. Not sky blue, like the color of this room, but a deep, dark blue. Sutherland blue.
    “Take it,” he said gruffly. “For protection.”
    Her breath hitched. Her fingers twitched. He knew she wanted to take it, but she did not trust him. Not yet. He found that he was powerfully induced to earn her trust. Why, he didn’t know. It was just that he wanted her to look at him without distrust.
    He backed away from her and placed the dagger on a small table by the bed. “It’s yers. Bathe. Sleep. I’ll send food up for ye.”
    He turned his back, trusting that the dagger he’d given her wouldn’t end up embedded between his shoulder blades, and walked out the door. Once he closed it behind him, he leaned against it and breathed deep.
    He’d seen the injuries to her body the other day; now he was beginning to glimpse the injuries to her soul.
    —
    Stunned, Eleanor watched Brice leave the room and close the door. Her gaze went to the dagger on the small table.
    He’d left her a weapon for her own protection. That’s what he’d said. So she could protect herself.
    That didn’t sound like a man who wanted to kill her.
    Then again, maybe he wanted