The McKinnon Read Online Free PDF Page A

uncle’s hands would never look like this man regardless of her thoughts just moments earlier.
    She was not going to delude herself. The beating she would receive for this escape would be severe. The punishments had been getting more violent and frequent over the last year. With this escape attempt, she had just given her uncle the excuse he needed to kill her should he ever get his hands on her again.
    She could never go back. Not while Lester was alive.
    Years as a soldier had finely honed Nic’s senses. He noticed the pulse racing in the hollow of the boy's throat. He smelled the boy’s fear, and knew the young man would try to run at the first opportunity. Nic's conscience, slight as it might be in many instances, would not allow him to leave the filthy, skinny creature until he was sure the lad was fit to travel alone . He would be easy pickings if someone was set on evil.
    “Easy, easy, I’ll not harm you,” Nic spoke softly. “You’re lucky nothing is broken, but rest assured, my young friend, you will be very sore. Lucky for you the bog broke your fall and I happened along to pull you out of the mire before you went completely under.”
    Nic waited for acknowledgement. There was none forthcoming, making him suspect the boy was more injured than any outward appearance might suggest.
    “Can you speak?” Nic asked.
    She was fully awake and mesmerized by the soothing voice of her rescuer. His face was only inches from hers and she thought it was the most handsome she had ever seen. In his late twenties, his jaw was square and his lips wide and sensual. Below that tempting mouth was a deep cleft in his chin, keeping his lips from seeming overly soft. She had the inexplicable urge to pull his face closer to test the softness for herself.
    However his eyes struck her the most. Those pools of brown reflected the real depths to the man thinly veiled by cynicism and worldly knowledge. He may be young, she thought, but he had seen much. A seasoned warrior undoubtedly hardened by endless battles and loss, and this only added to his appeal.
    Oh, get over it, her mind mocked.
    She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. It was a mistake. That action sent the world spinning.
    Nic saw the color drain from her face. He had seen it before. Head injury and vomiting went hand-in-hand.
    “You’re going to be sick,” Nic  said as a matter of fact. His reaction time was quick, his movements done with little care given. Turning her to her side, he kept the boy's breakfast off his boots.
    “Don’t swallow it. Rinse and spit,” he said handing her some water. “Better?”
    Morgan shook her head in the negative, as she spit the water out and vomited, again. This time Nic was not quick enough to have it miss his boots.
    "Well, it isn't a first time," he said with a sigh as he shook it off.
    Nic also realized the boy did not apologize or speak. There could be several logical reasons for his silence beside simply being an ingrate. Not that he was ruling it out at this point. Could be the boy had a deep lack of trust or was in  shock. More likely the boy just was incapable of speech. 
    “Are you mute?”
    Morgan jumped at the opening that the knight unknowingly provided her. It was a brilliant cover and one she would not have considered. If he thought she could not speak, it would keep her from having to answer any questions. She had no idea how long the ruse might hold up, but even a day would buy her time.
    Impulsively, she nodded. The slight movement cost her dearly as the world began to spin again.
    “Ahhh,” she let the sound of agony slip past her lips. She balled her fist into the front of his shirt to make the world slow down.
    “You need to move slowly. Give yourself a chance to recover,” Nic said as he stood up and extended his hand.
    Sitting on the soft moist earth, Morgan looked at one of the largest men she had ever seen. 
    She studied his extended hand that was offered in assistance. She hesitated to