Teresa Medeiros Read Online Free PDF Page A

riding.
    Making a valiant attempt to swallow around the knot of terror in her throat, Tabitha timidly croaked, “Excuse me, sir, but have you seen my mother?”

CHAPTER4
    H e thought the creature was female, but he couldn’t be sure. Any hint of its sex was buried beneath a shapeless tunic and a pair of loose leggings. It blinked up at him, its gray eyes startlingly large in its pallid face.
    “Who the hell are you?” he growled. “Did that murdering bastard send you to ambush me?”
    It lifted its cupped hands a few inches off the ground. “Do I look like someone sent to ambush you?”
    The thing had a point. It wore no armor and carried no weapon that he could see unless you counted those beseeching gray eyes. Definitely female, he decided with a grunt of mingled relief and pain. He might have been too long without a woman, but he’d yet to be swayed by any of the pretty young lads a few of his more jaded comrades favored.
    He steadied his grip on the sword, hoping the woman hadn’t seen it waver. His chest heaved with exhaustion and he was forced to shake the sweat from his eyes before stealing a desperate glance over his shoulder.
    The forest betrayed no sign of pursuit, freeing him to return his attention to his trembling captive. “Have you no answer for my question? Who the hell are you?”
    To his surprise, the surly demand ignited a spark of spirit in the wench’s eyes. “Wait just a minute! Maybe the question should be who the hell are
you?”
Her eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. “Don’t I know you?” She began to mutter beneath her breath as she studied his face, making him wonder if he hadn’t snared a lunatic. “Trim the hair. Give him a shave and a bath. Spritz him with Brut and slip him into an off-the-rack suit. Ah-ha!” she crowed. “You’re George, aren’t you? George … George …?” She snapped her fingers. “George Ruggles from Accounting!” She slanted him a glance that was almost coy. “ ’Fess up now, Georgie boy. Did Daddy offer you a raise to play knight in shining armor to my damsel in distress?”
    His jaw went slack with shock as she swatted his sword aside and scrambled to her feet, brushing the grass from her shapely rump with both hands. “You can confide in me, you know. I promise it won’t affect your Yearly Performance Evaluation.”
    She was taller than he had expected, taller than any woman of his acquaintance. But far more disconcerting than her height was her brash attitude. Since he’d been old enough to wield a sword, he’d never met anyone, man or woman, who wasn’t afraid of him.
    The sun was beating down on his head like an anvil. He clenched his teeth against a fresh wave of pain. “You may call me George if it pleases you, my lady, but ’tis
not
my name.”
    She paced around him, making the horse prance and shy away from her. “Should I call you Prince then? Or will Mr. Charming do? And what would you like to call me? Guenevere perhaps?” She touched a hand to her rumpled hair and batted her sandy eyelashes at him. “Or would you prefer Rapunzel?”
    His ears burned beneath her incomprehensible taunts.He could think of several names he’d like to call her, none of them flattering. A small black cat appeared out of nowhere to scamper at her heels, forcing him to rein his stallion in tighter or risk trampling them both. Each nervous shuffle of the horse’s hooves jarred his aching bones.
    She eyed his cracked leather gauntlets and tarnished chain mail with blatant derision. “So where’s your shining armor, Lancelot? Is it back at the condo being polished or did you send it out to the dry cleaners?”
    She paced behind him again. All the better to slide a blade between his ribs, he thought dourly. Resisting the urge to clutch his shoulder, he wheeled the horse around to face her. The simple motion made his ears ring and his head spin.
    “Cease your infernal pacing, woman!” he bellowed. “Or I’ll—” He hesitated, at a loss to